Sherlock carry job.

Hey everyone. If you didn't know, I've recently hurt myself—a little more than I had originally thought. I've been pretty much bedridden for a week or so, and it's only been the past few days that I've been able to take short spurts at my desk.

I'll be trying really really hard to make up for two weeks of lost time in the days leading up to the end of the month, though I'm sure my success will be limited. I'm skipping over the pa treon layover for this one in order to move things along, but the poll will still be put up there for the illustration shortly.

Thank you all.

X

It was Saturday. Saturday mornings were for theory lessons, which left the afternoon free. Since the arenas were open and free to use, most of the students would take the time to practise. Doubly so, in the case of one Orimura Ichika and Charles Dunois.

"... So the reason why you can't beat Alcott and Rin is mainly because you haven't grasped the nuances of ranged weapons. When we fought, you almost couldn't close the distance between us in time, right?"

"Um… yes, that's true. Even my Ignition Boost didn't help–"

"Well, that's because your IS can only fight in close-range." Charles nodded. "And your boost only goes in a straight line, which makes it rather easy to predict its oncoming trajectory. We'll have to work on that for the tournament if we want to win, Ichika."

Ichika nodded sagely as Charles continued his extensive, in-depth lecture on IS piloting basics. He was lucky to have someone like the french boy looking out for him, really. God knew he'd need it.

The upcoming tournament wasn't supposed to be anything beyond a regular tournament—and if he handed that Laura girl her ass, no one would complain, surely—but it became… not that. Like most things as of late, he blamed Houki.

It was all because of that bet.

She came to him saying that if she won the tournament, he'd owe her a date.

That wasn't so bad on its own, he could handle an outing with his childhood friend. It wasn't like one needed to read too much into it.

But of course, in equal parts due to collective delusion and everyone at this school being clinically insane, every single student had found out before the day had passed and just assumed that that translated to "Ichika is fair game to whoever wins the tournament'.

He wasn't!

He didn't agree to this!

Even so, there came a furor amongst the IS academy students, all of whom took the time and effort into their IS training like never before. The arena was packed, and many other groups had been knocking into each other or been hit by stray bullets. Ichika himself had already bumped into other people thrice.

Again, he counted his blessings. In a sea of mental patients, Charles was his one shining gleam of sanity.

"We'll have to think of something to cover your weaknesses." The boy mused, strafing as he gave Ichika's IS a once-over. "Does the Byakushiki have any slots left for an equalizer?"

"Equalizer?" Ichika blinked.

"Add-ons." Charles lifted a finger. "IS comes with basic weaponry as your preset, but normally they do have expansion slots that can be used to field additional equipment, called Equalizers. It takes time to install, and it is up to each individual IS core to see if it can accept its installation."

"What, like it's sentient?"

"In a sense, yes. Once the core has accepted the Equalizer, it heads into subspace and henceforth becomes a materialisation of installed data from the IS." Charles lifted her arms, and numerous thrusters and armour plates bloomed into view. "So even if the equipment is damaged, it is never truly gone once the IS core has agreed to its installation. You can call upon it at will, whether for combat or for maintenance."

Ichika stroked his chin. "So, it's like a walking, living armoury?"

"That's right! There's still time for us to potentially install a few that would help with your long-range capabilities before the tournament."

"That's amazing, but…" Ichika sighed. "I've been told my IS doesn't have any expansion slots left."

Indeed, all Byakushiki had in its arsenal was the Yukihira sword, and its accompanying one-off ability, the Reiryaku Byakuya: as long as it attacked something that had an energy source, it could negate and destroy it, at the cost of depleting their own shields and energy fast. Truly, it was a double-edged sword.

He had wondered why the team behind it had entrusted a novice's IS with such an impractical ability, but was quickly reminded that if it was good enough for his sister, it was good enough for him.

But that was patently unfair, goddamnit! No one could compare to his sister, let alone a complete amateur.

Even now, the gulf between them was vast.

"There's nothing for it, then." Charles smiled. "I'll have to find some way to cover for your weaknesses when the time comes."

The boy took a deep breath and drew the Yukihira sword.

"Right," he exclaimed with conviction, moreso to himself than to Charles. "I'm ready for—"

BOOM!

The pair was forced to cover their eyes as Cecilia and Rin were sent hurtling past them and straight into the back wall. Those two had been goofing off fighting each other for a while now. Why did they—?

"Weak!" another voice snarled. One belonging to someone that shouldn't have been on the training field at all right now. "How pathetic."

It was Laura. When did she get here?

The diminutive girl certainly didn't look the part in that big, black IS of hers. The way she was glaring at them… Ichika took a wary step back unconsciously, but stood his ground the very moment he caught himself.

Like hell he was backing down from this little girl.

"Why did you do that!" he yelled at her. The boy took decisive action; he spun around to face her, weapons deployed, and Charles did the same.

They didn't even see Laura move.

One second she was on the other end of the field, the next she was on top of him. Charles tried to pry them apart, but Laura's outstretched giant mechanical claws slammed her into the ground.

The French boy wheezed; Ichika saw red.

"You—!"

Laura's other hand smashed the ground next to his head, cratering it.

"Yes. Me, Orimura," she spat with heavy vitriol. "Why? Because of you."

There was clear confusion in his eyes.

"H-huh? What—"

Her fist was pushed down harder. He winced.

"It's your fault that mein lehrerin is the way that she is! Sloppy! Domesticated! Like… like some sort of house cat!"

…Who the hell was she talking about? Chifuyu? It couldn't be.

A wave of indignation flooded his system. He gritted his teeth as his IS hummed with life. Slowly, to the German girl's surprise, he started pushing her off him.

"What…"

Her IS creaked.

"The hell…"

She stumbled back, allowing him and Charles to spring back onto their feet.

"Does that have to do with me!"

Though her footing was unsteady, Laura did not fall. With a snarl, she stared down the two pilots as Rin and Cecilia remained unconscious.

"Don't play dumb, you little pest!" She moved, rushing towards him with a materialised blade drawn. "Mein Lehrerin represented something! Strength!" The sword clashed against his Yukihira. "Courage! A sheer, indomitable will! It was a beautiful ideal to chase toward, and she gave it all up for the likes of you, just to spend her time in this backwater country eating entire trays of cake in oversized clothing! You made her weak! You made her lesser! I will never forgive you!"

There was something within that rant that Ichika dearly wanted an elaboration on, but he was too busy trying to fend off the incensed girl's assault.

He was worried too. His sister wasn't… right. Something was obviously weighing on her and he had long since promised himself that he'd do whatever he could to help, if only she'd open up to him. But that didn't mean that this chick had any right to pin it all on him!

"I won't have you accuse me of making my sister weak!" He shouted, pushing her away with a thrust. "I'm already doing all I can to get stronger for her sake!"

"If you want to help your sister, then just DIE!"

And with that, the diminutive brat's thrusters thrummed with power, and she charged, blade outstretched, and Ichika saw no other option but to strike, ignition boost activated, two IS on a collision course—

CLANG!

Ichika nearly lost his balance as a sudden impact cleaved theYukihira into the ground. To his right, Laura had over swung, the redirected blade nearly forcing her to spin in place before steadying herself, a foot back.

"It's times like this that I'm reminded I hate handling children."

The two students looked up, and froze.

A furious Chifuyu stood between the two students, still wearing her work clothes, brandishing a sword as long as she was tall and about as wide, her hands flexing upon its thick pommel with practised ease.

His sister was holding two IS suits at bay with a single IS was no hidden IS involved here. As far as he knew, the woman had deflected the charges between two superpowered war machines with nothing but her own flesh and bone.

"You forget yourself, Bodewig." Her glare made both Ichika and Laura's blood run cold. "It's fine to have mock battles, but to beat two students senseless?"

"... It's not as if I didn't give them the chance to defend themselves, Mein Lehrerin." Even Laura, for all her reasons to be confrontational in the first place, couldn't help but feel cowed by the very woman she had moments ago compared to a house cat. "Their weakness is no fault of mine."

There came a thump, and Yamada Maya in her IS suit landed behind them, absolutely flustered. "Orimura-sensei—"

"Get Alcott and Lingyin to the infirmary." She barked.

"Y-yes!"

At some point, Charles had appeared, gently helping Ichika up from where he knelt. As the assistant teacher got to work, his sister returned her attention towards the frozen students.

She opened her mouth, eyes drifting down towards the comically large blade she clenched with both hands, and paused.

… Was it just him, or was his sister lost in thought?

And then the curious sight disappeared. Chifuyu swung, resting the blade's quillon upon her shoulder with nary a grunt.

"Whatever beef you two have, I don't want to see any more of it. Save it for the tournament, or I'll send you back to Germany myself," the instructor told Laura.

"And Orimura."

"Y-Yes!" He shot up straight.

"... Do better."

And with a final inexplicable glare shot towards Charles' direction, she stormed off, mood still foul, resting the gigantic sword upon her shoulders as if it was an ordinary shinai as various onlookers made way for her, all murmuring.

"Ichika…" Charles tried.

The students stared at her back as she left, dumbfounded by the short exchange. None more so than Laura, who stood frozen in place seconds after Chifuyu had left.

Making the others jump a little, and forcing Ichika to snap back to reality, the German girl suddenly started laughing. Her IS vanished into particles of light and she was left standing in her pilot suit. She began to make her way back into the changing rooms.

Then she stopped and spun around.

"I will destroy you, Orimura," she promised, pointing toward him. "That is the Instructor we need… and that is the instructor that shall remain after I'm through with you."

They all watched her leave in stunned silence.

"Through with you…" Charles murmured. "What do you think she means by that?"

"I think it's pretty obvious, Charles." Ichika replied, unable to hide the traces of panic that had inadvertently bubbled through. "That crazy bitch is going to kill me."

"Ichika!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just telling it like it is!"

Charles sighed.

"Still," he mused, "your sister's really amazing, isn't she? I've never seen anything like it."

Yes. His sister was amazing. That had never not been the case. And yet, seeing what she was capable of in-person, at work, Ichika had to wonder…

Chifuyu-nee… a normal human being wouldn't be able to do that, right?

As he pondered over his sister's actions, Charles went on.

"But what was all that about cake trays and house cats?"

Ichika's face turned ashen in an instant.

"... Ichika?"

"... Long story, another time, not here." He finally said. "Come on, let's practise some more before we head back inside."

"Right!" And Charles boosted away, leaving Ichika to mull over the day's events.

Chifuyu… just like that sword she carried, she held the world upon her shoulders, didn't she.

That's what all of this was for. Why he had to get stronger. If not for any personal motivation, but for him to be able to shoulder some of the burden she carried like nothing.

And yet, Ichika wondered if he merely imagined the look of melancholy she held as she gazed towards her blade.

"Ichika! I'm ready!"

Grimacing, he uprooted Yukihira from the ground.

"Right!"

Thrusters flared to life, Ichika shifted in stance, leaning forward as he rocketed towards a charging Charles, blades outstretched, white meeting orange–

X

Two walls of flesh slammed into each other, sending wicks of sweat flying in every which way. Under the intense spotlight of the arena, the droplets were like a shining mist that dissipated above the heads of the enraptured crowd.

Shirou kept his eyes on the sumo match with a passive smile, wordlessly thanking Old Man Raiga with a nod as the grandfatherly man poured him another half dozen ounces of sake. To his left, his longtime friend Issei sheepishly put his hands out in front of him, refusing Raiga's offer for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

It was nice of Raiga to have offered to take them out, Shirou figured, so even though he wasn't much of a drinker himself, he thought it polite to indulge the man for a drink or two. Issei's situation was a little different; he was a monk, after all.

"I say." Raiga muttered. "That's the fourth time this month Ura's attempted that backwards throw."

"He'll get it sooner or later." Shirou hummed. "Though he might have been more successful against anyone else but Ryuuden."

Raiga smiled, gently fanning himself with the Uchiwa he'd repurposed from Issei.

"This is nice." He mused. "Crowd's relatively full today. And here I'd thought everyone would flock to those IS exhibition matches instead."

Shirou turned impassive. "You know how I feel about those things."

"Right, right…"

"It's a pity your wife isn't here, Shirou." Issei remarked, eyes on the match. "She usually has so much to say."

Shirou blinked. "You really think so?"

"Well…" The monk scratched his head. "Not to me, per se, but her perspective about these things–"

"Brat." Raiga sighed. "I hate to break it to you, and this really should be more obvious, but that woman absolutely detests you."

"And I don't understand what I did to earn her enmity!" Issei started, visibly pouting. "I've been nothing but cordial with her, and she's always in quite the foul mood whenever we meet."

Raiga scoffed, earning a confused glance from the monk. Shirou shot him a wry smirk.

"You did it to yourself, Issei."

"What?"

"The day you met her—the day we signed the papers, in fact—you told me that I 'picked a good one' right in front of her, amongst other things."

"What's wrong with that!?" The monk tried to defend himself. "She's a straight-laced woman who knows how to behave herself with some modicum of propriety; she's a good example amongst her kind, I made sure she knows that. That's all I meant."

The old man laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth even as Shirou sighed. That was the problem right there. His wife's opinion of the man wouldn't be changing any time soon, it would seem.

Noticing his friend was barely humouring him let alone agreeing with him, Issei scoffed and stood up.

"Please excuse me. I need to stop by the bathroom," He informed them.

Raiga chortled.

"My great granddaughter has a bigger bladder than you, kid!"

"Most of my diet is soups and porridges!" He retorted.

"You'd think you'd have moved on to solids by now."

Issei rolled his eyes but didn't throw anything back at the older man before walking off. How monk-like of him.

Shirou felt a tap on his knee. He looked down to see Raiga holding an envelope out to him.

"Since we have some privacy, I figure this is as good a time as any," the old man told him.

The redhead met his grin with a mild frown.

"Jeez. I'm a little old for pocket money, aren't I?"

Raiga scoffed, wedging the envelope under Shirou's hand.

"You've always been a stubborn brat, you know that?"

Shirou's expression softened as he realised that his response might've been taken the wrong way.

"I don't mean to seem unappreciative, Raiga. You've always looked after me—since way back when Kiritsugu passed. You kept a roof over my head, made sure I was taken care of…"

"When have I not looked after my family, boy? I'm a foot in the grave already so hurry up and fix whatever half assed impression you have of me before I kick the bucket."

Shirou couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sorry, you're right. It's just… I don't want to take advantage of you."

The younger man's hand relaxed around the envelope as his shoulder was clasped by the Fujimura elder.

"What is it that you don't want to take advantage of, exactly?" Raiga asked him in a tone that suggested he wasn't speaking in rhetoric. "My money, or my kindness?"

The redhead's eyes widened.

"I—Chifuyu and I are happy. We don't have any issues with money; we're left wanting for nothing, so—"

"That wasn't my question," Raiga cut him off. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, boy. Stop trying to quantify your own happiness just to punish yourself whenever you receive however much more than what you think you deserve."

"That's not what—"

The old man's Uchiwa lazily slapped against Shirou's lips in order to shush him up.

"It is what you've been doing. You'd rather dismiss this envelope as an unequal transaction instead of letting an old bastard show love quickly and painlessly."

Satisfied that the younger man would keep his mouth shut, Raiga let his hand drop back onto his lap. For a moment, the pair kept their eyes on the dohyo and watched the next match in silence.

"... You've already done enough. More than enough."

"One could argue you couldn't wait to return the residence back to me."

Shirou turned contemplative. "It was never mine, Raiga."

"Better you live there with your wife than that bastard Taiga got hitched to just dropping by in the guest room every once in a while." Raiga shook his head, frowning. "Honestly, the nerve of him–"

"Waver's a good man." Shirou felt the need to speak in his brother-in-law's defence. "He's just… busy."

"Busy enough to miss most of the formative years of his daughter's life?"

Shirou pursed his lips. "He's working on it. You should be no stranger to people working to free themselves of their past obligations and responsibilities."

Raiga huffed, looking away.

"I'm not speaking against his mettle." He clarified. "He's made of stern stuff, I'll give him that. But he chose to marry my granddaughter. I'm always going to be critical of him."

In actuality, it was the other way around. After Waver – with his help – had explained his circumstances that forced him back to London for the foreseeable future, Taiga had insisted upon it. It wasn't so much the idea of little Alex being a child out of wedlock she took issue to, but growing up without a mother had made Taiga resolute in the idea that her future progeny would have both parents around, one way or the other.

It was also, upon Shirou's reflection, a part of why Taiga had hung around with him and Kiritsugu in the first place.

"Honestly…" Shirou shrugged, and thought about all the other magi he'd met. "Taiga could have done worse."

Raiga lightly hit him with his fan. "That is not how one should refer to their spouse, Shirou. What, d'you introduce your wife to other people, boasting that you could have done worse? I'd expect that of the Ryuudou brat, not you."

"The sentiment remains." Shirou smiled. "And Issei's fine, if a little… insensitive."

And what was a little insensitivity amongst friends? Lord knows he'd inadvertently tolerated worse.

The crowd murmured, smattering in light applause as the two wrestlers made their way back towards the stage. Shirou watched it all in silence, his mind drifting back towards a certain subject before the conversation was derailed…

After a moment longer, Raiga decided that he had given the boy enough time to ruminate.

"Shirou. There's nothing to feel guilty about." He finally said.

"Hm?"

"You know what I mean, brat."

He did. But Shirou found it difficult to accept.

"I made him a promise," he said quietly. His voice could barely be heard over the cheers of the crowd around them. "That promise… it's one of the last things of his that remained after his passing. I still remember how happy he was when I told him—" he cut himself off. Shirou's frown was no longer just introspective. It was sorrowful. "Letting go of it was a choice that I made, Raiga, I accept that, but it is a choice I have to live with nonetheless."

"... He was happy with you."

"Pardon?"

"I knew him before," the yakuza boss recounted. "Before you. He was a miserable man with nothing to live for. You. You were more important to the man that Kiritsugu was on his deathbed than anything you can think of."

"But–"

Raiga raised a hand up.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Raiga mused, "but I don't think his dream made him very happy. I don't think I can readily accept the idea that he was happy to hear you wanted to follow in his footsteps."

Shirou shook his head. "He was."

He hated how weak it sounded.

"Eh… Believe what you want, what does an old man like me know." Raiga waved him off, pouring the two of them more sake. "But no father would be unhappy seeing his child happy. Kiritsugu would be happy that you're happy," he insisted. "That little lady you married is good for you; that monk friend of yours is right about that much at least, dubious phrasing aside. You'd do better to embrace your good fortune than to beat yourself up over it."

He held up a glass for Shirou to accept.

"What he would have wanted for you is what you already have. Not what you may or may not have given up," Raiga finished. "Remember that."

Shirou didn't have an answer to that, even as he sipped at the sweet wine. There was some truth to what Raiga was saying, he would not deny it, but Kiritsugu was smiling that night. To him, that could never be in doubt. It was a core part of who he was.

He didn't know if he could accept anything else.

Raiga sighed. He'd said his piece. Issei had made his way back towards their seats just as the announcer stepped out of the ring. If he noticed the air between them had changed, he made no mention of it, content in taking a stick of Yaki-tori from their shared plate.

"... You know, Shirou," the monk mused, "I really do wish your wife was here, if only to stop you from being so glum."

Shirou smiled.

"You know what, Issei? I wish so too."

The bell rang, and the two wrestlers charged—

X

X

Two pairs of blades met and parried and swung in a cacophonous shower of sparks.

Orimura Chifuyu was holding back, but even so, she didn't have any idea how this guy was doing… any of this.

It should have been light work for her regardless of his background. She was something more. Something beyond a normal human. Practically genetically engineered to win a fight with or without an Infinite Stratos.

Naturally, the man was not piloting one. He was, in the end, a man. On the other hand, she wore an exo-suit specifically designed to allow her to be on equal footing with those who were.

With nothing but those strange swords, this man was holding his ground.

Was he like her?

Their blades crashed against each other once more. Her own amplified physical advantages were unmistakably present, but just barely.

One of her swords chipped. A little concerning, considering their supposed quality, but of little concern beyond that for a moment. She dropped it to the ground and drew one of the spares she kept at her hip.

Maybe it would be time for her to return the favour, then.

She engaged him once more, only this time all of her focus was on hitting one of his weapons: the white one. Her strikes continued in a crescendo, growing stronger and faster every second. Though the enemy clearly had to put a good amount of effort into defending himself, it still put her off that he was managing as much at all.

He could probably sense what she was trying to do. He made some space between them and threw the white blade at her.

She smirked,cranking her head out of the way to dodge the straightforward, if admittedly quick throw. Neither one of them really thought that would do anything, right? He only had the black one now.

She shot straight at him again, though she had to quickly twist her body out of the way as the black one shot past her too.

Her eyes widened. What the hell was he—

She looked back at him. As if from thin air, those same two swords of his appeared in his empty hands.

Clang!

A cold sweat ran down her spine as she stared into those cold, golden eyes of his. Was she seeing things? What the hell was going on!?

It was only experience and superhuman reaction time that allowed her to feel something at her back and react accordingly before anything could happen. Pressing a button at her hip, her other spare sword shot out of its sheath, forcing the enemy to block it, which allowed her the time to spin around and intercept the ballistic objects coming for her from behind.

She visibly grunted.

Those swords again!

The moment she struck them, though, they vanished just as quickly as the other ones appeared.

For a split instant, man and woman stared at each-other, each breathing heavily. In that time, Chifuyu's brain worked at superspeed trying to figure out—

Her blood ran cold. The way those swords appeared and vanished… It was just like the Infinite Stratos' subspace tech. But he was a man!

That wasn't possible. There was no way for anyone to reverse engineer the technology at the current moment. Tabane had said—

She froze.

Tabane!

X

Shirou Emiya was holding back, but even so, he wondered how his opponent had managed to keep up.

His opponent had two swords left of her original four. The fact that he was able to damage one and she was forced to abandon another gave him hope that he'd be able to disarm her completely and put an end to this.

Shirou suspected that the woman was using some form of reinforcement at first, but learned soon enough that this wasn't the case. Was that strange suit of hers the answer? Maybe, but that didn't explain how she was able to block a four-way attack just like that.

He ducked as a roundhouse kick nearly took his head clean off.

It went beyond being eclipsed in physical ability. She was skilled. Made for combat, almost. It was like… it was almost like fighting a servant, in a way.

Two more. If he could just break two more swords, he felt like he could steal the upper hand.

Channelling his magical energy, Kanshou and Bakuya cracked. They grew both in size and power. Though his opponent might not have realised the latter, the woman's stupefied expression showed that she was at least aware of the former.

Two blades were lifted to block his downward swing. Unfortunately for his opponent, she was not at all prepared for the difference in strength between a mundane blade and what amounted to a B-Ranked Noble Phantasm.

All four shattered at once: both hers and his. The woman immediately put a healthy distance between them, eyeing him warily.

He could never be truly unarmed, after all.

"Lady, this has all been very enlightening, but I think this has gone on long enough. Why don't we just go our separate ways and pretend this never happened?"

It was not meant to come off as a quip.

The woman did no such thing. Instead, she walked toward the wall of the paddock they found themselves in and grabbed the handle of a mounted katana.

More specifically, a katana clearly meant to be wielded by an Infinite Stratos unit. The blade was nearly twice as long as she was tall and just about as wide.

Shirou couldn't stop his mouth from hanging open as she picked it up with relative ease and roared.

It was only instinct that allowed Shirou to generate Kanshou and Byakuya in time in front of him: her next swing almost snapped him in half. His exhale alone, in an effort to generate enough force with Kanshou and Bakuya to defend himself in turn, was nearly strong enough to knock him out. He was sent skidding back several steps, reinforced shoulders aching from the impact; it was only his own ability that allowed him to stay on his feet.

With clenched teeth, he watched the monstrous woman swing her new weapon around with a flourish that better suited something a fraction of its size.

"Oh… Fuck me."

With a sigh, Shirou threw himself at her once more.