Imitation is the highest form of flattery; to be at such a level that people attempt to recreate something you've done or made, at the end of the day, a fake can never surpass the original in quality without fundamentally changing what it was.

However,

There is no rule that dictates that a fake cannot surpass the original; it's simply a matter of implausibility; it's just something that is hard to do, maybe something that'd require more effort than it was worth, but it was possible.

That being said, what about imitating? What happens then?

Well, it's simple: the best imitator wins.

Shirou couldn't sleep.

It had been a long day, and yet he couldn't sleep. After Ritsuka arrived, everything seemingly went back to normal. Ritsuka showed Shirou his room and left him to his own devices. He spent most of this time thinking; his mind wandered to many places, even things he felt.

"Oh, thank you, Mother."

Embarrassed about it, he started to become flustered in remembering it; it was such a strange thing, even in context, it still confused him. How did Saber being her father apply to him being her mother? That was quite the jump from someone who was just trying to kill him!

He couldn't help but feel guilty. Did he cause that girl to latch onto her? He hoped not.

He began to walk around the dark, empty hallways of Chaldea. All the rooms were soundproofed, and for emergencies, they had alarms attached to them.

The area he was now in was near the training area.

.

His train of thought wasn't exactly going anywhere until he thought about his purpose. If he had already reunited with Saber, what was his purpose now? Was all that was left but to become a hero of justice? It seemed that way, but something seemed off, as if this wasn't deserved or earned.

"Because you don't deserve it."

A voice behind him chimed in, a voice Shirou was far too familiar with.

"Archer..."

Shirou said lowly. He'd been getting a bad feeling down his back for a while now, and it seemed that the bad feeling just revealed itself. He wanted to feel thankful for the advice Archer had given him, but he couldn't help but scowl.

Archer simply smirked back.

"You don't deserve this, Emiya Shirou; it's as simple as that; Artoria Pendragon deserves this, not you."

He said it as if it were fact, and it was: Shirou hadn't earned his place as a heroic spirit, at least not yet.

"Why are you here, Archer?"

Archer's smirk dropped and turned into a scowl.

"To keep you from becoming a hero."

Archer then kicked Shirou's stomach, sending him into the training area. He walked through the door and locked it. Shirou stood up, both confused and not surprised at all. He felt like he was subconsciously expecting this to happen.

"Trace-"

Shirou starts-

"-On"

Archer Finishes.

The two projected the ying-yang swords of Kanshou and Bakuya. Archer smirked at his decision in projection.

"Hoh? my own weapons? I'd almost be surprised if it was anyone other than Shirou Emiya."

He continues as he walks down Shirou.

"They're easy to project and easy to use; no wonder why Shirou Emiya would use them; they have experience and strength, both things you're lacking in."

Archer throws his blades at Shirou, and as Shirou attempts to parry them, he notices all too late that they have begun to glow, and then

BOOM

They blew up right in Shirou's face, cracking each of his projections and blowing him backwards onto his back.

'turned them into broken phantasms at the last second...'

His thoughts are interrupted by Archer himself.

"Giving the Archer space? How idiotic."

Shirou's eyes widen as he realizes his folly: a rain of twisted arrow-like swords shot out like a machine gun; he wouldn't be able to dodge at this rate.

Just then, an arrow hit him in the foot, another hit him in the abdomen, and finally one hit him in the shoulder.

Shirou grunted as he attempted to think of a projection that would allow him to escape this situation.

But none came to mind; Emiya Shirou didn't have a defensive Noble Phantasm, something he soon realized would now be his downfall.

As another arrow hit his chest, he barely missed his heart.

"Pathetic; you lasted even less time than I imagined."

Hearing this, Shirou couldn't help but let his anger take control; he projected the twin blades once more.

"Do you realize what this means for you? You must not become a hero; without needing to chase that utopia, you will only become me!"

He yells out at Shirou, who simply grits his teeth and swings his swords.

"What are you even talking about, bastard?"

As his swords met Archer's, he realized that he was suddenly in hell.

That hell from all those years ago—the scorched earth he was pulled from—he was back there; he could smell the ash and death of his surroundings; it was his hell; he was aware of that much.

Suddenly, he was back in the fight. He was confused but swung once more.

their next clash, he saw himself in the Middle East, helping out with a war effort.

He swung again.

He saw himself make a deal with the world to save a little over 100 people in exchange for his afterlife, which he was forced to kill after his death.

He swung again.

He saw himself be hanged and die with a smile on his face.

He swung again.

He saw his future; we're on the path to being a superhero.

He couldn't swing; his spirit was broken after seeing the truth: that his dream would leave him desolate and destroyed, a future befitting of a complete and utter hypocrite.

"So you see now, you see why I can't let you live; if we take away your relationship with Saber, our stories are so similar it's uncanny; it's a mercy to end the broken existence of Emiya Shirou."

Archer swung down, Shirou barely defended, and every time their swords met, he got a glimpse into the different timelines, where his ideals were tested, where he'd have to admit the faults of his ideals and even throw those ideals away.

It seemed that those versions of himself surpassed Archer in one way or another. He also noticed that every time Archer's left-handed blade struck at him, he got the memories of that left arm and how, in another world, he let it overrun his body and the reality around him.

the version of him that turned into blades.

"I refuse to become you, Archer."

He slowly gets up, battered and beaten.

Archer stared at Shirou stoically.

"Your words mean nothing; you'll have to prove that to me."

He'd have to overcome himself and his own ideals; he could now recognize their flaws as well.

"I am the bone of my sword."

Shirou spoke—no, it'd be more accurate to say he prayed.

Archer swung down with Kanshou, targeting his shoulder. If the attack hit, he'd surely die; it was as simple as that, and yet

Shatter

Kanshou shatters on impact against Shirou's body, only managing to cut through his shirt. A confused Archer dashes back, sensing a new type of danger rising within the near-dead boy.

Upon closer look, Archer goes wide-eyed.

"What have you done...?"

Shirou doesn't seem to acknowledge him, and he completes his prayer.

"Unlimited Curse Works."

As he finishes, he searches Archer's memories, the ones that are freshly ingrained into his brain. Using his superior mana, he should be able to recreate any technique he had hidden in those memories.

No.

That wasn't the answer; any of the moves or techniques of Heroic Spirit EMIYA would be easily defended and likely countered; his best bet was Unlimited Curse Works.

He quickly projected Kanshou and Bakuya and swung them at Archer; all of his wounds turning into swords accidentally made his body heavier, allowing for more power within each blow, and he managed to slash his chest. It was nothing but a gaze, but

"Agh!"

Archer EMIYA faltered; blades seemed to be growing out of where he was gazed. Upon making any sort of contact with anything, Shirou could grow blades out of; he effectively turned his body into his external reality marble, a perfect offense and defense.

However, this was not a flawless technique; in fact, it was risky. Shirou likely had less than a minute before the swords he was just using as defense would begin to grow rapidly and uncontrollably.

Shirou touched the ground and imbued Unlimited Blade Works into it, causing the ground to grow a wave of blades, quickly forcing Archer back. This seemed like a bad idea at first, considering the disadvantage at long range, but it wasn't a large range, which meant if Archer tried to attack Shirou with any type of Broken Phantasm, he'd likely hurt himself as well.

Archer had to focus, the gaze that grew blades on his chest, and he was able to keep him out of commission by using his own reality marble in the same way, but only for a moment.

Archer began to project a demonic spear, one Shirou recognized as Gae Bulg, the spear of Cu Chulainn, Ireland's Child of Light.

"Rather fitting that you'll be dying to this spear once more."

Shirou had recognized his mistake. Archer was completely fine with hurting himself a little if it ended up killing him. He deactivated Unlimited Curse Works, which made all the blades in his body, those blades with the soul purpose of healing and defending, fade away, causing him to bleed a lot.

Archer pulls out his bow, using the spear as an arrow.

"GAE BULG!"

-he fires.

At this moment, Shirou recognizes that this is the moment where Archer's memories would allow him to live. Searching through his experiences, he recognizes a shield made out of petals.

Shirou puts out his right hand as the spear of absolute death approaches.

"RHO AIAS!"

Suddenly, a pink, translucent shield with seven layers of defense formed around his hand as he attempted to defend himself from the spear.

Almost instantly, the first layer shattered.

"Emiya Shirou, Drown in your ideals and die."

The second layer shattered.

"AGH!"

The reverb of each layer shattering backfired back onto Shirou.

The third layer shattered.

Shirou didn't falter, and Archer recognized the look in his eyes; it was a look all too familiar.

The fourth and fifth layers broke.

It wouldn't be much longer now, but Shirou persisted anyway; he refused to lose to Archer.

The sixth layer broke.

Shirou's ribs were broken, his body was numb, and as his feet were like glass, he screamed out in both agony and persistence.

And then the spear detonated, like a broken phantasm.

It was all black, at least for a while. Shirou stood up anyway; he couldn't see a thing, his chest felt like someone had stuck several spears into him, and his legs felt brittle.

"Archer, I won't ever be you; as long as that utopia exists, I will never be you."

He said calmly; he didn't know if he was facing the right direction or not, but he was sure Archer heard, and he was even more confident that Archer smirked when hearing that.

"Very well, you win Emiya Shirou; continue to fulfill Artoria Pendragon's dream."

and just like that, he fell back to unconsciousness.

As Shirou woke up, he realized he was in a medical bay of sorts, alone, and in a medical gown. who had changed him -

Shirou quickly stopped thinking about that; it would be bad for his health. As he rubbed his eyes and looked up, he saw a woman with pink hair and a dull expression.

"...Hi?"

"Hello, I am Berserker Nightingale, and I am Chaldea's medical officer."

Shirou sweatdropped.

"Don't you mean nurse...?"

She stared at Shirou sternly.

"Yes, Nurse, be aware of that and not my position as Berserker."

Shirou scratched his head as he tried to laugh it off.

"Your injuries are interesting, though healable, easily, in fact, with Chaldea's state-of-the art systems."

The red hair felt impressed; his battle with Archer was not fun in the slightest.

"You should be good to go; I assume you got into a scuffle with another servant. If I see you here again, I will perform open heart surgery on you while conscious."

He couldn't tell if she was joking or not, due to her monotone voice, but his natural instinct told him to play it safe. As he walked out of the medical bay, wearing his normal clothing, his long-sleeved white and blue shirt, and his dull blue pants, most servants stared at him strangely.

'Do they think I'm human or something? What's with the sta-'

"Queen Shirou!" x3

He turned to his side and saw a trio of Bedivere, Gareth, and Gawain, each kneeling down to him. In the middle of a hall, he managed to recognize each of them due to tracing their weapons by instinct.

"Queen is much too formal; I'm also a man."

"Nonsense O'Queen! The Knights of the Round Table owe you a proper tour of these facilities, especially King Artoria's!"

Bedivere spouted it out; to Shirou, it sounded like nonsense, but knowing his luck, he was bound to get in trouble anyway.

"No, thank you."

The trio suddenly seemed to get gloomy and disappointed.

"This was our whole plan for the day."

"O'Queen is abiding by his duties."

"I don't even know what to say."

"Alright, fine! Take me wherever you go!"

It was strange; despite starting out in Chaldea, they were now in the woods hunting.

"Why are we hunting, Gareth?"

"Well, because if we went to the King's room without a feast, what kind of knights would we be?"

Shirou sweatdropped at the expression, but her smile was so bright that Shirou felt the innate urge to protect it.

"Hmm, O'Queen, do you perhaps have projectiles of sorts?"

Bedivere asked curiously, only to be berated by Gawain.

"Don't be a fool, Bedivere! Queen Shirou is a fragile caster; let us do the work, Queen Shirou."

Gawain said with a flashy smile, which only made Shirou deadpan.

"I can use the bow, Bedivere."

"What talent our queen has!"

Gawain chimed in once more.

After a quick hunt, the trio (plus Shirou) was met with a problem: they were now hungry.

"If we eat the king's food, we'll be executed! executed!"

Gareth lamented, but her stomach rumbled anyway.

Bedivere was simply smiling, while Gawain was slightly stressed about how his new 'Queen' viewed him.

"Look, how about I just cook you guys dinner out here and make some dinner for Saber—I mean, Artoria—when we get back?"

.

.

"Queen Shirou is truly a saint!" x3

Shirou began to prepare the deer he caught, preparing some stew for the trio. As they waited patiently (this is a lie), they bickered about silly things, like a bunch of good friends, as they took their first bite.

"...Queen Shirou..."

Gawain seems to cry tears of joy.

"This is the greatest thing I've eaten."

"Is it really worth crying over?"

Shirou spoke, trying to make sense of the situation.

"O'Queen, may I have seconds?"

Bedivere chimed in.

"A-Already?

"Me too, Queen Shirou!"

Gareth chimed in.

Eventually, they were almost back. Bedivere and Gawain were speaking to each other up in front, while Shirou walked next to Gareth.

"Queen Shirou-"

"Drop the Queen."

"Queen Shirou, I must ask...do you know of Guinevere?"

Shirou paused for a second.

"Artoria's...wife?"

Gareth nodded.

"Yes, the very same; she was a very kind woman with a maternal aura."

"She must've been lovely."

Shirou comments

"She was...but I sort of see Queen Guinevere in you, so to speak."

"Really?"

"Yup! You both just make me want to smile all the time!"