Chapter 22 – Fake Opening
(Published: 04.29.13 - Beta: RavingScholar)

Life is a funny thing. One moment you are trying to kill someone, the next you are expecting to share a cup of tea peacefully with that same person.

Such were Waver Velvet's musing while he waited for the last living Emiya to arrive. As agreed with Caster, he had called a week after the deplorable incident caused by the unjustified grudge of his elders.

Truth be told he found Emiya to be relatively calm during their conversation on the phone in spite of being severely wounded during an unprovoked confrontation. If it were him, Waver would have been fairly pissed. Then again the immediate culprits had already paid a heavy toll for their transgressions, and quite frankly a masked vigilante probably had a different outlook on such matters.

A vigilante; now that was an unusual thing among Magi. In the history of Magecraft it wasn't so unusual to see a practitioner of the craft more interested in its applications rather that its development, but never to the best of his knowledge had someone used them in such manner. Even Emiya's deceased predecessor had an approach to his beliefs more in line with how the Clock Tower normally dealt with their targets. Improvement through elimination was a brutally efficient method of getting things done, but the current holder of the Emiya name had a less deadly approach to things. Considering the teenage Magus was in a contract with a Servant, Waver was quite grateful for that.

If the boy had sent Caster after him, the likelihood of Waver getting out of Fuyuki alive were pretty close to zero, even if he managed to escape after their first encounter. The Caster Class' ability with scrying was unparalleled, and in all likelihood superior to a modern Magus's ability to hide from it.

Therefore, while he still did the smart thing and checked the surroundings for eventual traps, Waver entered the Copenhagen feeling relatively safe. The cozy little establishment was devoid of Boundary Fields, both active and dormant, and while it was a familiar place that Emiya frequented there was no indication that it could be considered someplace out of the ordinary.

As such, Waver sat at a table in a far corner and ordered a cup of his favorite type of tea while he waited for his guest to arrive. He didn't have to wait for long since Emiya walked in a few minutes before the agreed time.

There weren't many other patrons, but the boy's eyes zeroed in on him as soon as he walked past the door. As expected from the Cheongs' reports, the young Magus had a keen sense for detecting when somebody was observing him.

With a tap of the finger on the tabletop, Waver activated the array he had drawn. It was a simple enough spell, but would keep their conversation from being overheard accidentally. Waver inclined his head in acknowledgment and Emiya nodded back.

"Good day, Mr. Velvet," he greeted in English as he sat.

"Likewise, Emiya-san," Waver replied smoothly in Japanese. "I'd like to say it's a pleasure, but I'm afraid that the circumstances of our meeting have put that beyond our reach."

"I'm afraid so," the Japanese Magus agreed. "We didn't exactly start off on the best foot. Unpleasantries aside, we have a bit of a situation at hand. As I understand it, you want something from me."

"Indeed," Waver nodded, secretly appreciating Emiya's willingness to let bygones be bygones and look at the matter at hand. "As I've told your… friend, I'm interested in acquiring the late Guilford's Crest."

"That's not exactly a simple request, Waver-san. Rule of Blood was… extremely misused by its previous host," Shirou said, his hesitation implying a vast amount unsaid. "Just giving it up without any form of insurance isn't an option. What's your interest in it?"

"My elders have tasked me with its retrieval for the purpose of transplanting a new Crest into our family. As you might know, the Archibald's Crest was destroyed by your father in the course of the Fourth War."

"Yes, I was aware of that," Shirou nodded. "I suppose that the attempt on my friend's and my life a week ago was due to this old grudge, wasn't it? And according to what Caster told me, you weren't personally aware of your elders' intentions."

"Saying that I didn't expect them to try something like that would be a lie," he admitted, "so I didn't inform them about you. However, the mercenaries they hired saw fit to bypass me and inform them nonetheless. As you must be well aware, that didn't end well for them."

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," Shirou nodded. "About that, how are they doing?"

"Concern for those who tried to kill you, Emiya-san?" Waver asked with surprise mingled with curiosity in his voice. "It's unusual even for normal people, all the more so for a Magus."

"Yes, well, by this point you should have figured that I don't embrace the philosophy of the Magi community. And besides, there is no point in holding a grudge toward simple hired hands. It would be a waste of effort and quite hypocritical of me. "

"A fair point," Waver admitted with a nod. Ah, a practitioner of the Craft who had a measure of common sense: such a rarity. "They are as fine as they could be. Their injuries are serious but not life threatening. They will probably have to change careers, though."

Emiya didn't reply to that besides a small nod. There wasn't much to be said anyway.

"Returning to our previous topic," Waver continued," my elders wanted to get their hands on Rule of Blood to obtain easy access to another Crest in order to restore their status within the Clock Tower. They had an agreement with Guilford to acquire and transplant the new Crest, though I don't know who the donor would have been."

"I do," Shirou replied dryly with a dangerous edge to his voice. Waver went out on a limb and figured that the young Magus in front of him was at least acquainted with Guilford's unfortunate target. "But why are you telling me this? Such information is priceless blackmail material."

"For you? Not likely," Waver decreed, shaking his head. "You are not associated with the Clock Tower, and your own use of Magecraft would hardly be appreciated in there. The only reason you don't have a Sealing Designation is because you've done good work in keeping your and your Craft's existence a secret. Your testimony would hardly be taken into any consideration in London. As for why I'm telling you, well, I have no real reason to lie and every reason to come clean. You might not hold a grudge, but trust between us is still an issue."

"That's putting it mildly, but I agree. So, what reason do I have to part with Rule of Blood?"

"Besides getting rid of something that would cause the Association to come knocking at your door? As I told Caster, I'm willing to silence my elders about your existence, seeing as they are the only ones to know about you besides me. In addition, as the new Lord El-Melloi I can give you apprenticeship if you ever decide to reveal yourself and join the Clock Tower. Most importantly, I'm willing to share my experience as Master during the course of the Fourth War. Would that be enough?"

"No," Emiya replied bluntly without missing a beat. "Your offer is generous and most of what you propose are things I have no way to obtain from someone else, however Rule of Blood's potential to do harm is too great to simply give away without any form of insurance that it won't be misused again."

"What are you proposing then?" Waver asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"A self-geas scroll."

Waver breathed deeply, then exhaled. Slowly, he put his cup of tea back on its plate and stared Emiya squarely in the eyes.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all. Frankly the only reason I haven't destroyed it yet is because it has a great potential to do good things. Its healing properties are out of this world, but I won't entrust it to just anyone. If you want it, you'll have to take responsibility for it."

"How do you expect me to take responsibility for something I intend to return to the Clock Tower?" Waver asked, tapping his finger on the table out of habit.

"Then don't return it to the Clock Tower at all," Emiya said, a glint in his eyes. "Weren't the Archibald looking for a new Crest? And are you not an Archibald yourself?"

Waver, to his credit, expressed his surprise only through a slight widening of his eyes. Certainly doing what Emiya suggested would solve a great deal of problems, but on the other hand it opened an entirely different can of worms.

Since he had discovered that Guilford was dead and the deal with the elders was off Waver had put much consideration into blackmailing the old geezers into submission, knowing that being the one to return the Crest would spare him the repercussions the other Archibalds would have to face for dealing with a Sealing Designate on the run.

However if he took Rule of Blood upon himself and at the same time revealed the elders' dealings, there was a good chance he could wrest control of the entirety of their fortune and resources for himself. He would become the de-facto Head of the family instead of a mere placeholder.

It was a hazardous plan and it meant that he would become a Sealing Designate himself, which in turn meant little to no freedom of movement. Not that he needed much of that anyway. He had spent over five years without leaving the Clock Tower. He was a researcher at heart and had little interest in sightseeing.

The only reason for him to ever leave would be if an experiment could not be performed there, and the Association was more than willing to allow that. He'd probably to be escorted by a few Enforcers, both for his protection and to prevent an escape, but what did he care?

"Your idea…has merit. I have to evaluate a few implications, as well as retrieve the necessary material for the contract. What kind of terms did you have in mind?"

"Only not to perform any harmful Magecraft on unwilling subjects unless in self-defense or in defense of others, and to enforce the same rules upon the next host before passing it down."

"Those are reasonable terms," Waver agreed. Most Magi wouldn't care about harming others in the pursuit of knowledge, but Waver wasn't like that. "Don't you intend to enforce your payment as well?"

"I don't really care about that," the redhead shrugged. "True, we have no particular reason to trust each other, but if we are to establish a working business relationship we have to start somewhere."

"You make a good point. Very well then, I'll see what I can do and get back to you as soon as I can. On an entirely different topic, if you don't mind my asking: what's going on with the Grail War? It's happening fifty years too early, and in the past week there was no sign of Servant activity. I don't believe it's normal."

"It isn't," Emiya agreed. "But there's no reason for you to concern yourself with it, seeing as you aren't a Master this time around. However, just to sate your curiosity: know that the war isn't about to actually start for a few more months. The Grail is being more whimsical than usual and I'm keeping an eye over the situation."

"How convenient," Waver chuckled.

"Let me make it clear, Velvet-san," Emiya replied firmly, a hint of anger his steel-like gaze. "I have no interest whatsoever in the Grail save for preventing it from falling into the hands of someone who'd use it to harm innocents."

Waver shook his head. "You know what? Had I heard it coming from anyone else I wouldn't have believed such a statement, but seeing how you don't seem to give much value to anything but the well-being of others I'm willing to actually consider what you said as the truth."

Emiya nodded his acknowledgement, apparently not really caring if Waver believed him or not. He knew, of course, that the other Magus knew more about the Grail's unusual activities than he was willing to share, but as Emiya had said there was no particular reason for them to trust each other at this point. Perhaps this would change in time, but as it was Waver wasn't particularly interested in the Holy Grail anymore.

The only reason from him to be interested at this point was to summon his King to the world of the living once again, but Iskandar had never expressed the desire for Waver to do such a thing. His orders were to live on and carry his memory, not to fight again. Of course, if the Grail picked him again he would certainly give his King a chance to ride once more. Yet that was beyond his control.

With no other topics to discuss the two Magi bade each other farewell until a later time and Emiya left the establishment, leaving Waver to ponder how to implement his plans for the future.

Waver contacted Shirou three days later to sign the self-geas scroll. Shirou didn't know how Waver intended to deal with the aftermath of returning Rule of Blood to the Clock Tower, but the Contract insured that he would live up to his word.

It might have been hazardous to give away the Crest but Medea assured him that without the ritual she devised, the mind-controlling properties of Rule of Blood were beyond the grasp of modern day Magi. Ultimately, Rule of Blood's capacity for good far outweighed its potential to do harm, which was almost entirely removed thanks to the self-geas scroll.

However, that didn't mean everyone was happy with the outcome.

"Honestly, Master," Medea protested after they returned home from exchanging the Crest and signing the scroll, "you should have asked for something more in exchange for the Crest."

"I already had what I wanted," Shirou replied. "Actually getting rid of that thing was already payment enough. The last thing I needed was having the Clock Tower after me when the Grail War begins. There's only so much trouble I can handle at the same time."

"I see your point, but I still think you should have asked for a better bargain," Medea groused.

"I think I got the best bargain I could have asked for in the long term. Velvet-san sounds like a reasonable and down-to-earth person, which is a rarity among Magi in general, nevermind the Lords. Having him on our good side is better in the long run."

"I can agree to that," Medea acquiesced. "That being said, was there anything useful in his memories of the past war?"

"It's going to be slow going sorting through those," Shirou admitted while rubbing his temple slowly.

It had been Medea's idea to have Velvet literally share his memories with Shirou. The man was less than thrilled to have someone snooping around his brain, so Shirou stipulated that they would stick to the man's experiences of the War and those alone within their contract.

Everything went smoothly, though it had been a strange experience, especially since the memories had been dumped into his mind in a single cluster and a human's higher brain functions weren't able to process so much information at once. In all likelihood, it would take him more than a few weeks to sort them out and review them as his own memories. If it had been a single memory it would have been a different matter, but a week's worth of memories was just too much.

"The likelihood of the same Servant appearing twice is slim, but make sure to examine the way they fought as well as how the other Masters acted," Medea instructed. "Even if it's from a single perspective it's still invaluable knowledge."

"Definitely. Now that I'm home from school I have all the time to practice with you and train with Kuzuki-sensei," Shirou said cheerfully, as if the impending beatings from his teacher were something to look forward to.

"Far be it for me to deprecate your eagerness to learn and improve," Medea chided amusedly, "but isn't this time of the year meant for rest and relaxation?"

"Are you kidding? Now is the best time to focus on my training without interruptions. I'll relax after the war," he concluded with a wave of the hand. "I can't afford to slack off right now. I was thinking of quitting the Archery club as well."

"Really?" Medea was taken a little aback. "I figured you really liked to practice with the bow, it being your primary weapon."

"Eh, don't misunderstand. The bow is my best weapon and I really do like practicing with it, but my skill is already beyond that of a school club and the time I spend there can be used more efficiently. I don't plan to quit entirely, but I'll certainly have to drop the captainship and forget about competitions. Maybe next year I'll pick it up again, but that's then."

"I'm sorry that you have to make so many sacrifices for a conflict you haven't chosen." Medea seemed saddened for some reason.

"Don't be," he shook his head." It's not a sacrifice at all and even if I'd rather not have this war take place at all, it was still my choice to participate in it."

As they walked, Medea reached for his hand where the sword shaped Command Seal was etched, softly running her thumb over the lines. A bit of warmth rose to Shirou's face at the touch.

"Is it truly not a burden?" she asked, her voice low yet unmistakably emotion-filled. "Bearing this mark means having people after your life. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Of course it does," Shirou nodded, "but it's fine. If I'm bearing this mark, then it means that somebody else isn't and that they're safe."

"Sometimes I worry that you don't value your own life at all, Shirou."

Shirou shrugged. "Eh, Kiritsugu said something similar once. He told me that I was distorted because I cared about others more than I do for myself. He made it sound like a bad thing, but I don't care. No matter what anyone says wanting to save someone else isn't wrong. Besides, shouldn't the Command Seal bother you more? It binds you, not me. If you wanted me to get rid of it, you'd just have to ask; you know that, right?"

"Of course you would say something silly like that," Medea chuckled. "You have to be the only Magus who would willing to drop the leash that keeps their familiar at bay for no gain at all. At any rate, forfeiting the seal wouldn't mean forfeiting the contract with me. I would still have access to your Prana until I forged another contract with someone else."

"That you're acknowledging it as a leash is enough of a reason for me to drop it," Shirou all but growled at the thought. "The only reason I haven't is because it's an asset that can make the difference between life and death later on."

"And the only reason I haven't severed the binding myself is because I know you wouldn't coerce me into anything. Or rather, that is the reason why I accepted the contract with you in the first place."

"Then there is no reason for us to question it, isn't it?" Shirou asked as he eyed his marked hand, which Medea was still holding at face level between them as they walked.

"None at all," Medea replied with a smile.

"- so young."

"Uh?" Shirou said, turning his head to look at a couple of women, standing not too far away from him and Medea. They were whispering conspiratorially to each other while simultaneously trying and failing to make it look like they weren't staring at them.

"… been living together in that big mansion by themselves for a while," another one whispered back.

"… a cradle-robber."

Wait. Was it just his imagination, or were those women saying…?

He tried to free his hand and deny their claims, and more importantly to politely demand them to mind their own business. He found himself unable to do so as Medea tightened her grip around his hand. He turned to look at her, blinking in surprise. Hadn't she heard what they were saying?

"Let's go, Shirou," Medea pulled him, dragging him away without looking at him. "Let them think whatever they want."

"But… Medea, they're saying that we are…"

"I don't mind, Shirou," she repeated, cutting off his protest. "Unless you do, of course."

"N…No. If it doesn't bother you, I- I don't really mind either," Shirou stuttered, surprised at her reaction and a more than bit flustered at the prolonged contact.

"Well, then. Let us go home."

"… All right."

They walked back slowly, ignoring the stares and enjoying the company of someone from whom they didn't have to hide anything.

The entire time Medea didn't let go of his hand.

Later that evening

Medea was curled into a ball in the relatively small bathtub of the Emiya household. Her head was poking out of the water, air bubbling out from her submerged mouth.

What the hell had she been doing?

Her behavior had been erratic lately, her mood swinging continuously: anger, happiness, confusion and at times even outright giddiness. There was something wrong with her she couldn't figure out… Oh, who was she kidding? She knew perfectly well what was wrong with her, and while she said she didn't mind the truth was far from it.

She stood up and stepped out of the tub, wrapping her naked form in a towel. Her wet feet carried her over the mirror and there she stood, staring at her own reflection.

She was, she knew, a very attractive woman of apparently thirty years of age. Her status as a Heroic Spirit as well as her divine heritage granted her traits that normal women could hardly hope to possess, but even though she had such qualities it didn't change the fact that by the time of her death she had been nearly fifty years old.

Even putting aside the fact that, technically speaking, she was born well over two thousand years before the current date, she was well over three times his age.

Three times his age!

She didn't mind what random strangers thought of her. She had long since learned to disregard the opinions of those who knew nothing but judged everyone and everything. No, she didn't care about them, but she cared about her own thoughts.

She knew quite clearly what her feelings for Shirou were, and she was utterly terrified of them. Not only because such feelings had been twisted in the past to serve the whims of others, but also because she felt conscious of the years that separated them. She could very well be his mother or even his grandmother considering how early women gave birth back in her time, and even if he wasn't a mere boy he certainly was a very, very young man.

She felt ashamed of even considering him in such a light, but she couldn't quite help the feeling that surged in her chest at the thought of him as well as the fears that followed.

Would he even acknowledge her as a woman? Would he be attracted by her? Would he think her a pervert for having such thoughts about a man a third her age?

A part of her wanted to seal those feelings shut and throw the key away, forever forgotten.

Another part of her knew that there was no other man for her. Even if she ever met another person as caring and as forgiving as him that wouldn't change the fact that it was Emiya Shirou who had saved her, that it was Emiya Shirou who had sheltered her, that it was Emiya Shirou who bled for her, that it was Emiya Shirou who gave her hope for the future and a reason to continue an otherwise pointless existence.

Acknowledging this meant acknowledging her new fears: fear of losing him to the coming war or one of the many other conflicts he would certainly go looking for; fear of her feelings going unnoticed or being rejected if confessed aloud.

She had fallen into the millennia old dilemma that plagued most people. Was it better to embrace these new feelings and jeopardize the bond they shared, or was it better to forget about them and content herself with what she had?

She couldn't quite give herself an answer.

Shirou was cooking dinner in relative quiet, pondering the events that transpired earlier that day. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it wasn't the cluster of unraveled memories inside his head that occupied his thoughts but rather Medea's behavior.

When he first met her she was, understandably, bitter and distrusting. It warmed his heart seeing her open up and expressing positive emotions, but she left him baffled at the apparent ease she had in physically touching him. Perhaps it was a cultural thing. Japanese were a fairly reserved kind of people, and Shirou was a prime example. Direct physical contact was certainly not a taboo, but they tended to give it a deeper meaning to things such as holding hands in public or even just in general.

It was probably just a notion that Medea didn't share or maybe in her country, during her time, it was a common thing and Shirou was over thinking the entire event.

Besides, it wasn't like it had been a negative experience at all.

"Hm, it smells wonderful as usual," Medea declared as she entered the room, still toweling her hair as she approached the red-haired teen. Shirou had to make a conscious effort not to stare at how her purple locks stuck to her still partially damp skin as well as to ignore the scent of shampoo that drifted up his nose, barely covered up by the smell of food. "Do you need any help with that?"

"Ah, no. I'm almost done here. Have a seat. I'll be there in a moment."

As promised, not a minute later dinner was served, just moments before Taiga arrived. Shirou was glad for his surrogate sister's acceptance of the situation. While he was ready to wipe her memories if she hadn't been able to handle the revelations of a few nights prior, it would have pained him greatly to do so.

The ravenous teacher might have been a nuisance nine times out of ten, but her heartwarming presence was something Shirou realized he treasured only when he had risked losing it. He would probably never change his attitude toward her, just like she wouldn't change hers, but beneath that exterior he knew what his feelings were.

Dinner was consumed in loud company, just like any event where Taiga was involved, with the television chattering in the background, barely audible. Taiga was in the middle of ranting about how her grandfather's men couldn't look after themselves when Shirou noticed the images on the screen. If he hadn't been looking in that direction he would have missed it entirely.

"What the…?" He reached for the remote, increasing the sound and interrupting the ongoing conversation.

" … the funeral of Tohno Makihisa, one of the most influential businessmen in the area, will take place in three days. The heirs have been unreachable for comments as well as…."

"Well damn," Shirou muttered, lowering the audio again.

"What's wrong?" Taiga asked. "Did you know that person, Shirou?"

"Yes actually, I had a transaction going on with him. Uh, it was almost time for the delivery too," he said with a frown of thought. "Damn it."

"How did it happen?" Medea inquired. "An illness?"

"He seemed fine when I saw him, but that doesn't necessarily mean he was well. Then again, it might just be a cover up for something else."

"Why would you think so?" Taiga asked, tilting her head.

"Well," Shirou began, "the main branch of the Tohno has dabbled at least a little in the supernatural, and since they provided dad with some dangerous merchandise in the past they certainly have a few illegal dealings going on. Things like that are bound to make you some dangerous enemies, and that on top of their known legal business avenue, which was definite cause for some people to benefit from his death."

"So you're saying that his death was not of natural causes," Medea concluded.

"I'm saying that even if it wasn't, it would be mostly likely hushed up and dealt with internally in the same manner."

"Sounds like something grandfather would do," Taiga agreed. "Our family isn't nearly as big or well off as the Tohno, but if such a thing were to happen the authorities would likely not be aware of the truth, though they might suspect if there were obvious repercussions."

"Uh, sometimes I forget that Raiga-san is a Yakuza," Shirou muttered.

"Well, gramps isn't all that keen on violence, and the times when Yakuza were just criminals are long gone. Now my family's businesses are all legal… mostly," she finished with a wry grin.

"If you don't mind, Fuji-nee, could you please ask Raiga-san if he knows anything about this? If Tohno's death was not as natural as it seems, chances are the underworld might have some rumors."

"I could, but Shirou, you don't plan to involve yourself with this too, do you?" Taiga asked with concern. "Aren't the troubles here in Fuyuki enough for you?"

"I'm already involved," Shirou retorted. "I'll have to contact Tohno's daughter if the materials aren't delivered soon, and frankly if he was killed there's also a small chance that whomever did it might go after his business associates as well. Since I met him just a little over two weeks ago I'm certainly high on the list of his most recent clients. If there is a potential threat coming from that direction I'd do well to be ready of it."

"That's what I was afraid of," Taiga moaned. "Well, stubborn as you are you'll probably go ahead with whatever plans you cook up regardless of the risk so I can at least make sure you're as prepared as possible. But Shirou…"

"What?"

"You are going to owe a week's worth of my preferred dishes for this. Triple servings."

"And that's how I finally went bankrupt," Shirou winced, faking displeasure. The he smiled. "Thank you, Fuji-nee."

"Well, someone has to look after my stupid little brother after all," Taiga replied, her smile wide and warm.

That night, Shirou's sleep was as restless as expected.

His mind had begun to process the memories he received from Waver and though he couldn't make heads or tail of them, he had a few glimpses of a tall, muscled man with a loud laughter and a proud look. Everything else was a blur, sometimes a violent one. He caught flashes of explosions and more than a little blood.

Emotions swirled in a chaotic mess with deep dark tinges and few light ones. Even then there was a sense of underlying fondness for all of it. No matter how a nasty business the Fourth War had been, Waver Velvet seemed to have found a measure of purpose in it.

Shirou woke up barely rested; his eyelids felt heavier with each second. He had managed to function in worse conditions though, and besides he had no time to waste. Training with Kuzuki-sensei had been picking up and Medea had finally started teaching the basics of her Item Creation.

The latter wasn't as exciting as one might have thought. There was a lot of complex theory that Shirou needed to learn before he could even begin to make even the simplest codes, not to mention he lacked the experience of actually crafting something. Medea too had little knowledge on working on metals, which were the most obvious material to make blades.

Seeing as metals required the most complex equipments to be worked and that she had lived most of her life on the move, running from this or that persecutor, she had little opportunity to lean that particular skill. She either usually enchanted blades made by others, usually exceptional weapons before her modifications, but she actually specialized more in brewing potions and working clothes or leather which were easier to come by, transport and work with.

Overall, that meant that even with a fully equipped Workshop it would be a learning experience for the both of them, one that was likely to take several months before it bore any fruit worthy of notice. Sadly, such was the life of a Magus.

On the other hand, Shirou's daily beating at the hands of the former Assassin finally started to give results, though not the sort his teacher had expected.

"You need to be faster, Emiya-kun," Kuzuki reprimanded in his monotone voice, giving Shirou time to catch his breath after the third consecutive blow which landed almost unhindered. "Stop reacting to my movements and start predicting them."

Easier said than done. The gap in ability between the two of them was like heaven and earth. No matter how Shirou looked at it, without the advantages granted by Magecraft he was nowhere near the league of his teacher.

This difficulty was further enhanced by the face he lacked any compatibility with this particular style of combat. Shirou's very nature lacked the viciousness necessary to make deadly strikes without proper motivation.

As someone who treasured every life more than he did his own, he knew he would never be proficient in something that was meant to cut other lives short.

Now, if it were his life alone that was being put at risk he could deal with it. Maybe if he used his life as his weapon, putting it on the line to sneak past the opponent's defense…

…it was reckless. One could call it even suicidal, but still…

"It seems like you just make a breakthrough, Emiya-kun," the teacher said, noticing the look in his eyes.

"Perhaps," he replied, still short for breath.

"Let us test it, then."

This declaration was all the warning that Shirou had to prepare. He was not nearly as ready as he would have liked, and while he somewhat managed to divert the most vicious blows a number of them still landed painfully. Reacting while being hit was not feasible, as attacking only opened further holes in his guard.

Yet there had to be a way: a way to best a stronger opponent; a way to turn an impossible defense into an efficient offense.

But how could he realize such a thing if the gap in their skills was so high that he couldn't predict his opponent's attacks, while all of his openings were being read instead?

… His openings? … Reading his openings?

The snake relied heavily on fake attacks that twisted into deadly blows after having been avoided or blocked once. Shirou already knew that wasn't suited for that. He was someone who protected, not someone who brought harm.

So if he wasn't suited for a fake offense then perhaps…

… a fake opening would do?

The shift was subtle, but Kuzuki's expert eyes didn't miss it. Emiya's eyes narrowed, his balance changed and his guard changed as well.

Yet his openings, different as they might have been from before, were still glaringly obvious. Adeptly he changed stance and went for these new holes in his pupil's guard. His punch went for the face and was predictably deflected. Emiya's ability was at least good enough to sustain the first layer of his offense, while his defense lacked from the second layer onward.

With his fist still stretched, Kuzuki twisted his arm and went for the exposed temple, seeking the weak point…

… and was instead met by a defense like a steel wall. Emiya's arm had moved into the way of the blow, efficiently closing the previously wide-open gap.

Being trained to react before thinking as a perfect killing machine, Kuzuki didn't give himself time to be surprised, an alien notion for someone like him, and went straight for the next opening and from there to the next one.

Again and again and again he sought the obvious weaknesses and an equal amount of times his attacks failed, which served only, he realized in hindsight, to open his own guard to a counterattack. He understood then, when his pupil's went for his face, that his student had finally surpassed his limitations.

Unable to predict his opponent's moves because of their disproportionate levels of ability, Emiya took control of the flow of the battle by offering openings of his own choice, exposing himself and putting himself at risk to even otherwise impossible the odds. It was a ridiculously dangerous way of fighting, reckless to the point of idiocy. Yet, in spite of that Emiya Shirou had reached him, much to his disbelief, through sheer conviction alone.

Almost.

Before the punch actually connected, Kuzuki caught it mere millimeters from the landing point. Emiya's victorious expression changed rapidly to one of abject disappointment… for the tenth of a second that it took for his teacher to turn his wrist-hold into a throw that sent the hapless teenager flying through the dojo to land painfully on his back.

"Ugh," Shirou moaned, twisting his back in pain. "I failed again."

"… No," Kuzuki-sensei replied after a moment of pondering silence. "It was certainly an ineffective attempt but the theory was not wrong. Controlling the flow of the battle like you did is certainly an effective way to achieve victory but it isn't something that can be mastered in a single try. However, there should be no need for me to say how reckless this fake opening style actually is, Emiya-kun. Do you realize that?"

"Yeah," the redhead groaned, dragging himself to a seated position. "Do you think I should drop it?"

"No," his sensei replied bluntly. "As you teacher, as long as you are aware of the risks involved, then there is no reason for you to renounce it, nor for me to tell you to do so. In fact, this self-sacrificing style might actually be suited for someone like you. However, if that's the case it is I who is unsuited to teach. If you wish to pursue this path then you will have to do it on your own."

"What? But I don't know anyone else who could spar with me."

"You misunderstand," Kuzuki's monotone voice stated. "I'm not saying I won't teach or spar with you anymore, simply that I cannot teach you that style. Since you are just beginning with it I would recommend that you find someone around your level to improve it with."

"But it's a way to fight those who are stronger than me," Shirou retorted.

"Once mastered, perhaps. But right now it's just a method to get you killed faster. Polish it until you can confidently control the direction of your opponent's attacks, and only then develop your counters. Furthermore, being able to predict your opponent is still a necessity for you. There are no shortcuts on the path to becoming stronger."

"So, what now?"

"Now I'll continue attacking you until you learn to predict my movements," the teacher said without remorse or malice. "Get ready."

"Sensei, wait just a- GWOH!"

Needless to say, Emiya Shirou's day continued in pain. His small achievement didn't help to lessen it in the slightest.

After a few days without news, Shirou contacted the Tohno asking for his materials. As he had suspected, there had been some small holdups that postponed the delivery to around the first days of the new school year.

Tohno Makihisa's death was a sad event and a minor annoyance that became a bit worse when Taiga confirmed that yes, there were at least rumors about his passing not being due to natural causes. That alone was a matter of some concern, as he had discussed with his sister a few days prior, but nothing Shirou couldn't handle with proper concern and the right precautions.

All in all it wasn't too much of a bother, especially considering that a few days later an interesting opportunity came up unexpectedly with regards to developing his Thaumaturgy.

"An exhibit?" Medea inquired curiously, peering over Shirou's shoulder at the newspaper he was reading. A small article displayed the upcoming opening of a museum dedicated to Japanese blacksmithing through the ages, with several tools from relatively famous sword-makers.

"Yeah," Shirou confirmed excitedly. "I was thinking that I could try and Trace the skills to work metal from those tools. They aren't swords themselves so I'm not sure how useful they would be, but I could try and grasp a few pointers and then see what I could gather by reading some related books."

"It would be rather convenient," Medea agreed. "Even if it's only a partial knowledge, their history should provide us with a decent head start. However, I'm a bit worried."

"About what?" Shirou's eyebrows furrowed.

"This exhibit will be hosted in Misaki city, won't it?"

"Yes, that's the point. In a single trip I could both complete the transaction with the Tohnos and visit the museum."

"I see," Medea nodded. "And I'm sure you have no interest whatsoever in… this!"

The purple haired woman turned the newspaper to the first page, where the headlines reported a string of strange disappearances thought to be serial murders that had been taking place in the very same city for a few days.

"Well, what can I say?" Shirou sweatdropped. He had been busted immediately.

"Honestly," Medea huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your propensity to stick your nose in dangerous situations is beyond my ability to comprehend."

"Ah, come on," Shirou held up his hands pleadingly, "I'm probably just going to make a few rounds of the city at night to see if I catch a glimpse of something. I don't have any reliable contact in Misaki, so I don't think I will fare much better than the police."

"Shirou… don't take me for a fool. Don't pretend you haven't seen this," Medea narrowed her eyes while at the same time tapping her finger angrily on a single word of the article.

The kanji read Kyuketsuki, vampire, the nickname the press had given to the mysterious murderer.

"There's no proof the killer is actually a Dead Apostle," Shirou frowned. "If he was, he's pretty sloppy to have been identified as such by mundane authorities, and in that case either the Clock Tower or the Church would have dispatched their agents to deal with the situation. Heck, they probably would have done it just to be safe."

"And that's exactly the problem," Medea swatted him over the head for his lack of thoughtfulness. "It's irrelevant if this murderer is actually a Dead Apostle or not. Somebody is bound to have already taken notice of this case and begun looking into it. If you get caught snooping around you would be in a lot of trouble."

"I get it, you're right." Shirou replied rubbing his head sheepishly. "I didn't think about it that way. I'm going to keep my head low."

"That's just not good enough, Shirou. If you're really going to Misaki, then promise me you'll keep away from this entire business entirely."

"… No."

"Excuse me?" Medea blinked.

"I said no." Shirou's face was steely. "I'm not going to just ignore it if there's something I can do to help. If there is a way I can save lives I'm not going to turn my back on it."

"You… you… you unreasonably stubborn fool," the Servant sighed, resignation clear in her voice. "There is no way I can change your mind, is there?"

"No, not likely," Shirou admitted scratching his head and sounding apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really can't turn my back on things I believe I have to do."

"I can't really complain about it either. If you weren't the fool you are I wouldn't be here right now. At least promise me you'll be careful, and give me a couple days to complete something I've been working on for a while."

"I promise I will, and don't worry about the time. I don't plan to leave before the start of the school term."

"I'll have to get back to work immediately anyway. I can't predict the next time you'll dive head first in a potentially deadly situation," Medea huffed, standing to her feet.

"I don't look that suicidal, do I?"

The answer was a definitely unamused raised eyebrow shot in his direction from the female Magus before she left the room. Shirou was left to grumble that trying to be a Hero got him no respect at all.

Two days went by and Shirou booked a hotel for a couple of days the day after the next so that he could at least attend the new school year's opening ceremony. Taiga wasn't too keen on letting her ward skip school even though his grades could allow it. Being a Wizard Vigilante was not an excuse to ditch his education.

In the meantime, the newspapers hadn't reported any new murder or disappearance. As such, Shirou wasn't exactly in a hurry to leave even as he paid attention to any minor rumor over the Internet and through the police's network via Dojima.

Upon Shirou's request to inform him about the evolvements of the situation in Misaki, Dojima asked jokingly if it was the work of an actual vampire. The answer that vampires did actually exist and they were of alien origin, of all things, left the detective entirely unamused as his perception of reality crumbled even further. When Dojima's desk needed to be replaced, that day, rumors among his colleagues were that the desk had shattered under repetitive, vicious strikes of an item roughly of the shape of a human skull.

Wisely, they came to agree that it was better not to investigate what could have made the unshakable hard-ass detective flip so badly and they went on with their day. Ignorance was bliss after all, a notion with which Dojima would have agreed for the first time in his life.

The day for school to begin again arrived and Shirou was faced with another minor dilemma: the very visible Command Seal on his hand, as well as the easily perceivable leak of Prana that went from him to Caster at all times. There was just no way any Magus would miss it except under the Boundary Field around the Emiya household, which for hiding purposes was designed to absorb all residues of Prana beneath it, even its own, thus muting all but the most potent surges of power.

Thankfully, Medea came through for him.

"What's this exactly?" Shirou asked, eyeing the small leather bracelet Medea had given him.

"I have been examining the Grail's workings in the past few weeks," Medea explained. "The binding system of the Command Seal isn't overly complex even if it contains an astounding amount of raw power. I devised a system to dampen it enough to be unnoticed and I engraved it on the back of that bracelet. See the small runic array on the inside?"

Shirou squinted his eyes as much as he could and even used Reinforcement to augment his vision. Only then he managed to see that there actually was something akin to runes written all over its inner surface. Even with Reinforcement, they were so minuscule that he was having a hard time reading them properly.

"How did you manage to engrave runes so small? Besides, is something as common and flimsy as leather going to be enough to shut off the Command Seals?"

"Mage from the Age of Gods, remember?" Medea asked pointing at herself, pride evident in her voice. "Besides, that's no common leather. It comes from the deer you hunted yourself and has been soaking in your blood for days. If it's your Command Seal that it has to hide, then it will work exceedingly well."

"Well, thank you then," Shirou said, moving to place it around his arm.

"Wait a second," she warned. "It doesn't come without drawbacks. While you're wearing it you are effectively closing the flow of Prana between us and you'll have to remove it in order to use the Command Seal."

"But that means that if something happens you won't have enough energy to defend yourself," the redhead protested. He motioned as if he wanted to give it back. "It's not worth it. I'd rather face Tohsaka sooner than put you in danger."

"Don't be an idiot now," Medea reprimanded him, though she had a strange expression on her face. "It's only while you are at school and no one would attack me during the day. Grail War or not, Magi don't operate in plain sight nowadays. Besides, my Prana reserves are full right now and are going to remain so unless I start casting seriously, and you can be certain that if something life threatening happens I'll be at least able to flee and contact you. Don't over concern yourself about me, will you?"

"Okay. If you think you're going to be fine then I trust you," he said, slapping the bracelet on his wrist.

A stabbing pain went through his arm and slowly the Command Seal on his hand vanished. Well, not really. It was still there if one looked closely, but as long as he didn't go waving the back of his hand in front of other people's faces it would go unnoticed.

With that little problem dealt with, Shirou could return to school without worrying about being found out.

That didn't mean there weren't going to be surprises, of course.

Timing, Shirou knew, was the one thing that was never really on his side. Maybe he was cursed; maybe it was just plain bad luck. The fact remained that where he was concerned, when it rained it damn well poured.

He realized as much as soon as he stepped past the school gates. He froze mid-step, eyes wide.

Countless students passed him by, some even bumping against him, telling him to move out of the way. He ignored them completely, taken as he was in examining this new sensation.

A strong, overwhelming presence filled the air, almost crushing him with its weight. It was something Shirou had experienced already once before, though it was severely lessened and with a different scent. It was the sensation he had perceived the night he first met Medea of Colchis. It was the unmistakable presence of a Servant.

And then, among the crowd, walking casually side by side with Tohsaka Rin, his eyes found hers.

Gold met green, and even though he had never met her before, never even seen her before, Emiya Shirou just knew this person though even her name was a mystery.

And so, as their eyes remained locked long enough for her to notice it wasn't just a passing glance, Emiya Shirou's brain went into high gear trying to figure out a way to come out of this situation, all the more so now that even Tohsaka had seen him and noticed his shock.

Things never did go as planned, did they?

XXX

AN: not much to say about this chapter. Might add other notes later on, but probably not. As usual ask your questions in the apposite forum.

See ya.