Chapter 9: First Quest (2/3) - House husband Emiya.
As I placed a clean set of plates back in the cupboards, Jeanne idled in the living room watching the television.
"Due to the recent string of murders, officials has warned the people that a possible serial killer might be on the loose. Make sure to lock your doors at night and call the police if you find any suspicious individuals roaming the streets," the news broadcaster warned.
This caught my attention. From what I could remember, the Assassin of Black was the source behind this killing spree as their current Master, a civilian with no ties to the supernatural until now, provided them with little to no magical energy, forcing the Servant to find an alternative to gather enough energy in order to stay afloat—by eating hearts.
"No doubt the work of a Servant," Jeanne quickly concluded.
"What makes you think that?" I asked while exiting the kitchen area.
"Their hearts were thoroughly gouged out and was never found," she pointed out. "Either this killer has a liking to collecting them, or they're using it to recover magical energy. And, might I add, I've yet to actually meet the the Assassin of Black. Everything points towards that conclusion," she waved her hand as if to underline the statement.
"Looks like we have a new Sherlock Holmes in the making," I pat the Saintess' head as I sat down next to her. "So, are you going to do anything about it?" In the corner of my eye, I saw the progress bar for the 'Head pat' skill increase by a large amount with this one action alone.
Briskly recovering from Shirou's show of affection, she speaks, "Y-yes. As the supervisor of this conflict, I must ensure the safety of those unrelated to it and enact punishment to those who discards the agreed upon rules."
"May I join you?" I asked, hoping to stretch my legs for a bit—and maybe gain another Noble Phantasm while I was at it. After the first two Noble Phantasms, I haven't been able to acquire new ones much to my chagrin.
"I appreciate it, but there is no need to put yourself in danger to accompany me, Shirou," she turned down my request out of concern for my wellbeing.
"Don't worry about me, I can handle myself just fine," I spoke with confidence, hoping to ease her concern.
"If you insist. Just promise to get behind me if things goes awry, alright?" she put forth her conditions. Truth be told, Jeanne wouldn't mind his company, but the inherent danger that came with her job prevented her letting him join. She felt a little bad about leaving him alone most of the time, so she'd make an exception this one time.
"Well, not that I plan on entering combat with Servants, so I'm fine with that." Some people might view me as a coward for hiding behind her, but what else am I supposed to do? Jeanne surpasses me in every category—except literacy, that is. Even with my level of physical prowess, my chances of winning against literal figures of legends was slim to none. Best I could do was flee and not hinder the Saintess.
"Alright, we'll head out in just a moment," Jeanne announced.
A little while later, we emerged from our cozy abode and set off for Bucharest, where the Assassin of Black was alleged to be hiding. However, just because we knew the city they were wreaking havoc in didn't mean we knew their exact location. For all we knew, the Master and Servant pair could be taking shelter inside the Embassy in extreme luxury. Of course, I knew that wasn't the case, but it didn't dismiss the fact that I still had no idea where they were.
We searched around the place for some time, circling blocks after blocks, traversing through the bustling streets, and even investigated some homes, only to find crumb trails that lead nowhere as if they had fully expected someone to follow them.
Suddenly, in a flash of inspiration, a lightbulb turned on inside my head as Jeanne and I entered an empty alleyway.
"Jeanne, let me ask you, do you trust me?" I broke the silence between us.
"Yes? Why wouldn't I?" she tilted her head in an adorable manner. Her trust in him had already reached its highest, she had no reason to doubt him now.
"Turn around for a second," I made a spinning motion with my hand. "Don't freak out of what I'm about to do next, alright?"
"Okay?" Though a little confused, she still followed my instructions and showed me her back.
In my hand, a white blindfold outlined with golden patterns appeared in a shimmer of light, it's design reminiscent of Jeanne's banner. Why? I liked it that way. Then, I gracefully wrapped it around her eyes, depriving the Saintess of her ability to see.
"Um, Shirou? What is this?" She wasn't alarmed in the slightest and simply reached out in my direction, as if searching for something. I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"A blindfold," I delivered in the most bland tone I could muster. "You said God would guide you to where you need to be, right? Then think of finding the Assassin of Black and their Master then follow your instincts."
"I don't think that's how it works," she stated. "B-but why does limiting my perception or range of motion seem to increase its effects?" she said under her breath. Of course, I heard it just fine.
"Should I restrict your arms as well?" I suggested in a teasing voice. "My, I didn't think you'd have that kind of hobby. Should I start calling you the Saint of Bondage? Big G up there sure has some taste in picking his people."
"W-what? How did you even come to that conclusion! And don't call the Lord that!" she eked out, her face doing its best impression of a tomato. "And we're in a public setting, Shirou. Please be mindful of your a-actions," she tried her best to sound stern, but her voice quivered at the end.
"Does that mean you're fine doing this in private?" I returned, prompting Jeanne to strengthen her grip on my hand as if to reprimand me. "Okay-okay, I'll stop. On a serious note, can you feel anything different at all? Maybe a tug or pull?"
"I can feel the 'pull', as you call it, a little bit better. Its coming from that way, but I'm not too sure." She turned, facing a seemingly random direction. "Can you take this off now? Its quite e-embarrassing to be seen like this," she timidly voiced out.
"It's pretty clear that it works, so keep it on for now," I replied. "Don't worry, I'll hold your hand and help you walk, just go in the direction of where you think the Assassin of Black is."
"O-okay." Jeanne shuffled forward while holding my hand for comfort. She almost bumped into some poles, but I made sure that didn't happen and ensured that she didn't trip on herself.
After some time, her hunch lead us to a weathered building at the outskirts of the slums. The structure reeked of old age and seamlessly blended with its surroundings.
"You sure it's here?" I asked while scanning the whole building with Structural Analysis out of curiosity. A proverbial frying pan slammed into my head at full force due to the sheer amount of information being crammed in my head, forcing me to deactivate the skill. 'That was pretty stupid of me,' I scolded myself internally, wincing at the headache.
"Yes," she nodded. "Can you please take this off now?" I adhered to her pleas and made the regal blindfold covering her sight to vanish into motes of mana.
Suddenly, a sense of foreboding ran across my being, causing the ends of my hair to stand in fright. My intuition was proven correct as not a second later, a wall of dense fog rolled in, blocking us from all sides. Looking closer, the phenomenon was undoubtedly of magical origin.
A blurry frame made its appearance from within the fog, its form gradually becoming shaper as it got closer to our position.
"Shirou, get behind me!" Jeanne shouted in alarm. I complied, taking cover behind her as we faced the approaching figure—the Assassin of Black, also known as Jack the Ripper.
She was a little girl with yellow eyes and short hair as white as snow, clad in a provocative outfit consisting of a black vest, matching panties, and a pair of dark stockings. Knives in various forms were strapped to her rear, each emitting a vicious aura. Of course, my Reality Marble made copies of these blades the instant they came into view.
"Hey! Are you here to play with us?" Assassin's youthful voice echoed from all sides, as if multiple children were talking at once. "Come on, let's play!" the choir of voices cheered as Assassin melded into the fog.
A near-silent whistle reached my ears from the back, instantly heightening my senses. Before I could summon a sword for defense, Jeanne, now clad in her battle-dress, sprang into action and deflected the incoming projectile—a butcher knife—with her flag, producing a loud clang that echoed throughout the area.
"Assassin of Black," Jeanne called out, her voice filled with authority. "I am Ruler. Cease your actions this instant, or I will be forced to use a Command Seal to stop you." The pair of wings engraved on her back radiated a subtle glow as she spoke. A Command Seal is a powerful tool a Master holds, allowing them to give absolute orders to their Servants for a total of 3 times. Jeanne, as the Ruler-class Servant, naturally had them to enforce the rules of the war.
As the white-haired assassin prepared to pounce forward with a flurry of knives, her movements came to an abrupt halt.
"Mommy?" The little girl spoke as a single entity, her confusion obvious. If not for the menacing air that surrounded her, I would've found it cute. She was likely communicating with her Master using their mental link. She turned, directing her attention at us, "Okay! Mommy said she'll have a chat with you. But if you hurt her, we will cut open your stomach, okay?" Jack's voice was filled with joy tinged with hidden malice.
With a mental push from Jack, the haze that shrouded the alley slowly dissipated. She hopped on her feet and pushed open the front door before heading inside the building. Left alone, we decided to follow the little albino with caution.
Jeanne kept her armor on, her eyes scanning for any potential threats as we trailed behind the Servant. Passing through the hallway, we entered the dimly lit common room, illuminated only by a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. At the end of the room, we spotted a pair.
The first figure was the Servant of Assassination, Jack the Ripper, while the other was a buxom woman with a head of murky green hair, draped in a fur coat over a lime dress. She sat on a chair next to a table, an air of gentleness mixed with thorns surrounded her form as her piercing eyes scrutinized us from head to toe.
"I am Ruler, the administrator of this war," Jeanne started with an introduction. "Am I right assume that you're the Master of Assassin?" she asked for confirmation.
"Yes, you are correct," the woman confirmed. Thankfully, she appeared to have a sound mind and opted to have a conversation instead of outright attacking us. "I am Rikudou Reika, nice to meet you, Ruler. And who might your companion be?"
"Emiya Shirou," I chimed in. "Don't mind me, I'm just here for moral support," raising a hand, I pointed at the Saintess. Hearing my name, Reika's eyes widened by a tad, probably surprised to find someone of the same origin as her in the middle of Romania.
"Let me ask you, are you aware of the inner workings of the Holy Grail War?" Jeanne inquired.
"Yes. But I'm afraid some details might be lost on me as I am not well versed in magic—magecraft, sorry," she quickly corrected herself. The distinction between the two—Magic and Magecraft—was pretty important. 'Magic' refers to feats unattainable through science, while 'Magecraft' are mystic arts that could be replicated with modern science.
"Are you not a magus?" Jeanne questioned. 'Is she perhaps a civilian who got forced into the role of a Master?' her thoughts stirred.
"I am not," Reika confirmed her inner musings. "I was taken by a man named Sagara Hyouma, who–" she shot a glance at the little albino, "–Jack had disposed of after her summoning, making me her Master. I'm guessing you're here due to the series of murders occurring around town?"
"We came here with that in mind, yes," Jeanne affirmed.
"Are you here to take her away from me?" her lips curved into a frown. "You will not take my child. You'd either have to kill me or leave us alone." Reika gave off a motherly aura as she lovingly embraced her Servant, who returned the gesture in kind while sporting an gleeful smile.
It appears during their short time together, the woman had already grown deeply attached to her Servant and even started calling Jack her child.
Seeing their warm exchange, Jeanne faltered for a moment. "N-no. Unless I am forced to, you are free to conduct however you wish for as long as it doesn't put regular people at risk. Unfortunately, that is exactly what you're doing, which brings us to where we're at now," she mentioned. "From what I could gather, you fail to supply Assassin with sufficient mana, so you resorted to consuming human organs as a replacement."
"Yes, I have, and will continue to do so if it meant Jack gets to lives another day." She glared at the Ruler Servant, her eyes reflecting a menacing red. "And don't even suggest drinking semen as an alternative, she is just a child for goodness sake."
From a technical standpoint, Jack was definitely older than her by a large margin, but Reika doesn't view it that way. She looked at Jack for how she really was—a little girl who needs a parent.
"Actually, there is a way to supply your little Assassin without needing to eat people's hearts, or use the other, unsavoury method," I interjected before the Saintess could respond.
"There is?" Reika tentatively asked. "Tell me, and it better not involve you doing disgusting things to Jack, or I will cut your manhood off the moment you put your hands on her," she spat out venomously.
'Shirou would never do such a thing.' Jeanne narrows her eyes and opens her mouth, about to defend Shirou's character, but the redhead spoke first before any fluttering remarks about him escaped her lips.
"Hey, I'm not that far into the depths of depravity. And you need to calm down, not everyone's out to get you," I waved my hand, dismissing her threat. "Don't worry, the solution I'm telling you doesn't require me to touch little Jackie over here," said individual reacted to the nickname I gave them by tilting her head a little bit.
With a flicker of light, a carton of apple juice manifested in my hand. "Here, try this," I offered to the little Assassin. It seemed my recent, admittedly accidental, discovery about the nature of my Projections was already proving useful.
Jack looked at her Master, as if seeking permission. After a moment of contemplation, Reika gave her the green light. Assassin took the item from my hand, stuck the straw into it, and took a gulp of the beverage.
"This! It taste good!" the little murder machine beamed as a wave of warmth invigorated her body.
"Does it give you any energy at all?" Reika asked, caressing her Servant's head. Jack gave an enthusiastic "Yep!" in response. The green-haired woman sighed in relief and turned to us, saying, "Thank you. I apologize for my earlier attitude, I just didn't want to lose Jack."
"All good, no harm done," I chuckled, not taking offense to her prior behavior.
"No need to apologize, Miss Rikudou. You were only looking out for your—um, daughter," Jeanne joined in, a bit unsure of how to refer to the Assassin-class Servant.
"I can provide you with a box of these a day, but it'd be troublesome to go back and forth from Trifas to Bucharest to deliver them. So, how about you come with us for now? We have an apartment back in Trifas," I suggested, then turned to Jeanne. "You wouldn't mind taking them in, right?"
"I do not, no worries," Jeanne replied, her expression resembling that of a proud parent as she looked at her fellow Saint.
Reika gave the two a look, her shock at Shirou and Jeanne's friendliness was evident. Internally, she couldn't help but wonder why they were being so generous to her and Jack, especially considering their—rather, Ruler's role in this war. Amidst her disbelief, there was a glimmer of hope that perhaps she and Jack could live through this conflict without battles or any more bloodshed.
She stayed silent for a moment before parting her lips, her austere temperment replaced by nervousness, "Is it really okay for me to intrude upon your home?"
"It's fine, Miss Rikudou. You're welcome to join us," Jeanne reassured with a kind smile. "And you wouldn't have to worry about your meals, Shirou can cook up the best dishes you'll ever taste," she remarked.
"Quite the high praise you have there. Though, I can attest what she said isn't false," I off-handedly commented. If there was one thing I was proud of that doesn't involve swords, or armaments in general, it would be my culinary skills… and maybe house work as well.
"Then, if you wouldn't mind, I'll be under your care," she bowed, displaying her heartfelt thanks. Truth be told, she was a little unnerved by their hospitality, it was a stark contrast to what she was used to seeing—animosity. But she welcomed their compassion nonetheless.
"Alright, you might wanna start packing whatever you need to. We'll meet at the nearby station in an hour, is that fine with you?" I Projected another carton of juice for Jack after she finished the first one. The little albino happily took the juice and proceeded to drink it. "And you might want to give Jackie some better clothes. It's, uh… eye-catching, to say the least," I pointed out.
"Yes, that's enough time. And I have some extra clothes for her to wear," Reika replied. "Again, thank you... very much," she added, her voice almost tearful.
"That went better than expected," the redhead muttered as he and Jeanne emerged from the old structure, stepping into the silent aisle.
"Indeed. To be frank, I expected our meeting to turn violent one way or another," Jeanne voiced out her thoughts.
"Let's just be thankful that didn't come to pass," he said in relief.
The two of them then left the area while making small talk, exchanging ideas on how to pass the next hour. However, as if to spite Shirou's prior thoughts, the world went silent as a familiar prickling sensation spread across his body.
'A Bounded Field?' he immediately figured out the strange occurrence. The effects of the barrier wasn't that difficult to determine—it forced everyone who knew nothing about magecraft away from the site, leaving it abandoned.
"Shirou—!" Jeanne exclaimed in a panic, her banner poised and ready for an attack.
Shirou's ears failed to register her shout as a gauntlet-clad fist on a collision course with his face appeared from out of nowhere. Acting out of pure instinct, he hastily raised his arm and reinforced it to protect himself from the incoming blow. The punch broke past Shirou's guard, producing a sickening crack as it made contact with his forearm.
With the grace of a tumbleweed, Shirou was thrown back a few meters and crashed straight into an innocent car parked on the side of the road. He had no idea who the vehicle belonged to, but the young man felt really sorry for this.
Suddenly, Shirou felt an acute sense of pain burst free from underneath his flesh. Glancing at his bloody arm, he watched as a metallic sheen formed a lattice pattern beneath his skin, replacing his flesh with miniature blades, before being dismantled by the healing properties of Avalon, restoring his arm to muscles and tissue.
'Goodness gracious,' Shirou cringed at the tingling feeling left by the strange occurrence. Due to its nature as a "sword", his body had its own way of mending itself—which involved tiny swords stitching his injuries—and it was incredibly painful, to say the least. Thankfully, the Ever Distant Utopia overpowered his body's unique regeneration before it could turn his limb into a hunk of metal.
As his attacker followed up with another strike, Jeanne's flag raced through the air and reached the aggressor in the blink of an eye, forcing them to take a step back in order to avoid it. Jeanne stood in front of the fallen redhead protectively, gazing sharply at the intruder. They were a Servant, no doubt about it.
Jeanne attempted to use her ability as a Ruler to determine their identity, but to her surprise, it failed due to a skill they possessed, blocking her from accessing their information. She briskly snapped out of her puzzlement, regaining her focus.
Shirou rose to his feet while cradling his broken arm to my chest, wincing. Thanks to Avalon, the injury would be of no issue in a minute or so, but the pain still lingered. Once again, he was reminded of the strength a Servant possessed. Even with all his upgrades from the System, all it took was a single punch to snap his bones.
Hiding behind the Saintess, Shirou scanned the one who struck him. They were of short stature, equipped in thick, metallic armor with occasional red accents, a helmet with two protruding horns was firmly on their head that revealed not a hint of their race or gender. In their hand, a large sword of the same colour scheme could be seen releasing a crackle of untamed energy.
Using his knowledge about the Fate franchise, the reincarnator immediately discerned the Servant's identity: the Knight of Treachery—Mordred. In a heartbeat, Unlimited Blade Works made a copy of her sword, Clarent, adding it to his increasing repertoire of Noble Phantasms. With this, he should stand a chance against a Servant if Shirou plays his cards correctly.
"Saber of Red! Stop this at once!" Jeanne ordered. Fortunately, the Servant remained in place and simply stared in silence. Unbeknownst to the twin Saints, the reason for Mordred's inactivity was because her Master was yelling at her through their link.
Saber broke the stillness by raising their hand, pointing at the Ruler Servant. "You, what is your name?" from within the horned helm, a voice of higher pitch echoed, their tone curt.
"I am Ruler, the administrator of this war," she announced for the world to hear. Shirou does wonder how many times she's said this already, probably a lot.
"Saber! That was not part of the goddamn plan!" an exasperated shout came from across the street.
Turning their heads, they spotted a man with striking blonde hair and sunglasses near them, saying, "I'm sorry about this, Ruler. We thought you were the Master and Servant we were looking for," he directed an apology towards Jeanne.
"What about me? No words for the guy that got assaulted?" Shirou voiced out, peeking from behind the Saintess' shoulder. His arm had already recovered at this point, so he had no problem giving a small wave.
"You too, sorry," he added, sounding as if he didn't even want to.
"Rude. I'll have have you know I have feelings too," the redhead returned, feigning a smidgen of sadness.
"Are you a Master from the Red faction?" Jeanne assumed.
"Uh, yeah. Shishigou Kairi, at your service," he introduced himself, then motioned towards Saber. "And this is my Servant. I promise we mean no harm, Ruler. Saber kinda just… uh, did that." He shot a glance at his Servant and asked, "Why'd you even do that?"
"Hey, I asked who you are, not your class. You as well, red-haired knob," Mordred ignored her Master, her sights flickering between the two individuals who had a similar appearance to someome she idolized and loathed at the same time. "Answer me!" the knight demanded.
"Unfortunately, my True Name would have to remain undisclosed, Saber of Red," Jeanne refused to reveal her identity, as expected. Servants don't usually go around telling everyone their name as it reveals a lot, if not everything about them from their strength to weaknesses. So they mostly call themselves by their assigned class in order to prevent that.
"Emiya Shirou, nice to meet you." On the opposite side of the spectrum, the young man had no problem revealing his. Not like his name is famous here or anything, right?
Kairi frowned, recognition flashing in his eyes. The surname reminded him of the renowned Magus Killer, Kiritsugu Emiya. Last he checked, the man had retired and was spending his days in Fuyuki with his wife and two children—one biological, while the other taken in. Coincidentally, the kid before him had the same name as Kiritsugu's adopted son.
Speaking of the son, Kairi heard that he'd made a huge splash in the magi community with his introduction of "Domain Expansions", or whatever it was called, a year ago. It was essentially an inferior version of a Reality Marble that anyone with a profound understanding over their magecraft could manifest, and it sent every practitioner of thaumaturgy around the world into a frenzy.
Due to his discovery, the Mage Association turned the boy into a Sealing Designate - an order to retrieve his body, becoming no more than subject of experimentation - but they were forced to withdraw after Shirou Emiya gave the world a taste of the first ever Domain Expansion, Shrine of Unlimited Blades, during one fiery encounter, mincing everything within a 150-meter radius and killing every personnel the Association had sent to capture him.
A bit of sweat trickled down Kairi's back, but he dismissed it as just a coincidence that someone with the same name was here in Romania. If this kid really was that 'Shirou Emiya,' this place would be swarming with magi by now with the intent to either get under his good graces or hunt him down for his secrets. A person of his status would have their movements under watch twenty-four-seven, so Kairi Shishigou would've heard if the Magus Killer's son had come here.
'Thankfully, that doesn't seem to be the case,' Kairi sighed internally. But, just to be sure, he would give his acquaintances at the Association a call, who would later confirm that 'Shirou Emiya' had not taken a single step out of Fuyuki.
He was fully ignorant of the fact that the redhead in front of him was just a different version of the one he knew. On the flip side, this Shirou Emiya had no idea that another iteration of him existed in this world as well.
"Tch," Saber of Red clicked her tongue, dissatisfied by something, before kicking a rock on the side of the road, sending it flying towards a nearby glass window, shattering it. She took a step back, but kept her sight trained on the pair of Saints.
"What is your purpose here, Master of Saber?" Jeanne probed.
Recovering from his stupor, Kairi formed a response, "The Mage Association has tasked me to investigate whatever is happening here. You've heard of the recent murder spree, right? We're here to stop that, it's most-likely a Servant running around."
"Yes, we have," Jeanne nodded. "And you need not worry about the rogue Servant; my partner and I have already taken care of the problem. Your presence here is unnecessary," she proclaimed, prompting Kairi to raise a brow.
"Did you kill them?" Jeanne answered by shaking her head. "You didn't? Then how can you be sure they won't do anything stupid like this again?" he questioned.
"They were not of magi lineage and has no plans on participating in this war. They'll be placed under our care and would cause no problems for the duration of the Holy Grail War," Jeanne assured. She then glanced at her companion, who gave a nod to support her earlier statement.
"I guess that's one less Servant to worry about," the blonde man let out a chuckle that flowed into a drawn out sigh. "Coming here was a load of nothing, we should probably get going. I'll take down the Bounded Field around the place before we go." He then looked at his Servant. "And you, I knew you were proned to violence, but don't just attack random people, alright? You're starting to look more like a raging Berserker than an elegant Saber at this point."
The Knight of Treachery offered nothing more than a low growl as a response. For some weird reason she could not figure out, Mordred couldn't help but send a curious glance at Shirou Emiya, finding his presence somewhat familiar. Blinking, she caught herself drifting into her own little world and rocked her head, shaking herself awake.
The four bid their farewells to one another and went on their separate ways soon after. The Saber of Red, however, continued to stare at the pair of Saints as they walked away, only stopping when they turned a corner, out of the knight's sight.
A little later, Shirou and Jeanne reunited with Assassin and her Master, who carried a suitcase in her hands, and took a ride back to Trifas.
Within the confines of the Yggdmillenia castle, a Servant clad in deep blue and shimmering gold scanned an artificial human - a homunculus who's sole purpose was to serve its creator - strapped atop a table, studying the specimen from behind his burnished mask. The Servant could see its determination to live shining brighter than anything else.
"A homunculus with a will of its own. A curious little thing, you are," the Servant remarked. This specific homunculus had somehow developed a sense of self and even created its own magic circuits to escape its container. And for a short period of time, it had gained freedom, until one of the guards patrolling the area spotted it, cutting its independence short.
The front door suddenly opened, revealing a young boy carrying a box of items. The lad's face beamed upon seeing the man in blue, exclaiming, "Hey teach! I brought the stuff, is this much okay?"
"Yes, that would suffice… Master," the Servant awkwardly said. His relationship with his summoner, the youngling who just entered, was a strange one. The boy did not treat him as a familiar or tool like everyone else in this god-forsaken fortress, but as a senior in golemancy—the art of creating golems. It was the kid's respect towards himself that made the boy's antics tolerable, otherwise, he would've thrown the brat inside one of his contraptions already.
"Okay! I'll put this over here. Good luck on what you're doing, Caster! There's some stuff Darnic wanted to tell us, so I better get going!" the child placed the stuff down then hollered as he darted outside, leaving the masked individual alone. As to where his Master went, the now revealed Caster-class Servant cared little about it for his current task required his undivided attention.
With everything gathered, his masterpiece would grace the world with its presence, and his dream would be fulfilled.
From behind the walls that encased Caster's workshop, another Servant idled with a look of sadness. He possessed a head of long pink hair with two ribbons adorning each side, his face was one that one could not help but find adorable. Clad in a form-fitting black attire that hugged his slender frame, accentuating his feminine charms, with matching stockings raised to his thighs.
The Rider of Black—Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's paladins—let out a sigh. If only he had arrived a second earlier to the homunculus' side, this tragedy could have been prevented, their life saved. He was even prepared to face whatever punishment his psychopath of a Master might mete out if it meant preserving their existence. Alas, there was nothing he could do now but carry the weight of his failure.
Swiftly, Astolfo regained the bubbly atmosphere he always carried and hopped along, roaming the halls of the Yggdmillenia castle. Yet, despite his outward cheer, the memory of his inability to save that ill-fated person still lingered, weighing on his conscience.
Astolfo had always been an advocate for freedom. He was born a prince, but willingly abandoned that position because he found it too troublesome. Even when he got turned into a tree that one time, he had managed to find solace in the tranquility it offered. Nothing could stop Astolfo from embracing whatever life threw at him, whether good or bad. So, he was slightly upset that someone lost an opportunity to be free and explore the world, witness its beauty with their own eyes.
"Rider," a soothing voice called out to him.
Turning, the Servant of the Mount spotted the Servant of the Bow, Chiron the centaur, who, if Astolfo was being honest, looked nothing like one at all. The only inhuman trait about him was the tail on his rear, and nothing else. 'Maybe he can switch forms?' Astolfo has pondered this many times.
He wore a Greek warrior's ensemble and approached with his signature polite smile. His stride exuded confidence, the air around him as tranquil as a forest.
"Chiron!" Astolfo waved, greeting the Archer-class Servant. "Need someone to relax with? I know some cozy places to take a nap in."
"I'm afraid I would have to decline, Rider. Darnic has given an order for everyone to gather at the main hall, except Caster who's on his little project," Chiron relayed what his own Master, Fiore Forvege Yggdmillenia, had told him earlier.
"Okie!" The paladin gave an adorable salute, his eyes bursting with energy as if he wasn't just downtrodden a minute ago, then followed the Servant of the Bow to the meeting location.
"How are we out of ingredients again?" I scratched the back of my head in confusion. I was certain we bought enough to last a few days just yesterday. What happened to them? Did they get snatched by the boogeyman or something?
"Shirou! Shirou!" The Servant of Assassination, now dressed in appropriate clothing for someone of her age, yelled while peeking her head above the kitchen counter. "Can we have hamburgers for breakfast?"
"Sure, why not," I accepted without giving it a second thought. Then, I blinked in realization. "I have a strong feeling I know the reason why we're out of stock so quickly."
"Yay!" the little albino celebrated, then sprinted to her Master sitting elegantly on the couch. "Mommy, we're having burgers!"
"Yes, Jackie. Yes we are," Reika lifted the young girl onto her lap and took her into a loving embrace. "And I would like to say that it was you who kept cooking whatever Jack asks for, Shirou, hence the shortage," she mentioned.
"I wasn't complaining. And I'll have you know that I've also been spoiling Jeanne with lots of her favorite food, not just Jack," I returned with a smirk, eyeing the Saint of Orleans seated beside Reika.
Jeanne tried to conceal the redness dyeing her features, but failed miserably, causing Reika to giggle at how cute she was acting.
"Alright. Imma go out and buy some things," I announced, taking my apron off. To be honest, I might just wear one wherever and whenever. I can rock an apron—nay, the apron rocks me. Or maybe both? Maybe we're meant together.
I walked towards the door, about to open it, when Reika spoke up, "Want me to come with you?"
"No need, it'll just be a quick run to the market. I'll be back in a bit," I declined, shaking my head.
Emerging from my home into the busy streets, I swiftly made my way towards a few stalls I've been frequenting for the past several days, talked to some friendly locals, and bought some ingredients that should last us a full week, fully accounting Jeanne and Jack's gluttonous stomachs.
While at it, I noticed a black cat running away from disgruntled girl clad in red. Stopping my walk, I took a better look at the lass. She had spiky blonde hair that's tied into a ponytail, draped in clothing that showcased the majority of her skin, most prominently her perfectly toned midriff, prompting the neurons in my head to activate.
I approached the young lass, saying, "Oh, look what we have here."
"Do I know you?" bluntly she replied. Taking a better look of my face, she made her displeasure known by curling her lips into a frown.
"You literally broke my arm when we first met," I reminded.
The Knight of Treachery stared at me in silence, her hardened look turning into one of shock. "You know?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned, putting on an innocent facade.
"What do you mean—what do I mean? You've never seen my face before. How did you figure me out?" She remained inside her armour, not even retracting her helmet, when they first met in that alley. And there was no way Ruler figured out her identity because her skill, [Secret Pedigree], blocked all sorts of probing methods. So how?
"Oh, you know," I paused, putting on a air of mysticism, then resumed, "I know a thing or two. The winds carries stories, and I like listening to them."
"Bullshit!" she rebutted not a beat later. "Answer the damn question! How did you recognize who I was!?"
"Goodness, you already have a hearing problem at that age? Let me say it again, I know a thing or two," I reiterated. A grin spread across my face, which annoyed the Saber Servant.
"You damn—ugh!" the Servant of the Sword groaned, her face twisting in frustration. "You won't answer my question, would you?"
I contemplated for a brief moment, and spoke in a hushed tone, "Short answer: I know who you are. Mordred Pendragon, Knight of Treachery. Or as I like to call you, Moedred the Lion Cub."
"You…" she hissed, her tone dropping a note. "Speak of my name like that again, I fucking dare you." After saying her piece, her body effused a dangerous swirl of magical energy, its essence bloodthirsty and untamed.
"Now, now. Before you lop my head of in the name of keeping your True Name a secret, just know that I am a neutral party and would not go running my mouth off, don't worry about it," I promised, hoping to placate the angry cub.
Before the air around us became even more frigid and suffocating, I decided to do something completely unexpected—some might say absurd.
"Here, catch." Using Projection, a burger appeared in my hand, then casually tossed it at her.
"W-what? What's this for?" Mordred stammered as she snatched the foodstuff from the air. Utterly caught off guard by my action, the torrent of mana spewing out of her frame faded into nothingness.
"Hamburger. You eat it," I answered with a chuckle. Truly, I am master at de-escalation. Perhaps I was still a little too lax talking to a potential enemy, but worry did not appear in my mind for it was in the middle of the day, a time when fighting was prohibited. Even if there was that slight chance she'd attack me, I was fully prepared to summon Luminosité Eternelle, Jeanne's Noble Phantasm, in order to protect myself.
"I know that, bastard! Why give me this?" She waved the bruger in her hand. "Where'd you even get this from?"
"Magic," I proclaimed. "It's a peace offering, if you will. Eating that will restore your magical energy by a lot, and it doesn't spoil, so keep it with you at all times."
Mordred ran her empty hand down her face, whining as a memory of an old acquaintance of hers, an eccentric wizard with a deep love for flowers, resurfaced in her head. "You remind me of that flowery bastard too much. You're just fucking with me, aren't you?"
"Maybe, who knows?" I shrugged, acting all mysterious. Completely unnecessary, but I just wanted to do it.
"For fucks sake, why do I have to meet someone like that bitch over here too," Mordred cursed her luck.
"Language, Mo-mo. A child shouldn't be speaking like that," I scolded how a parent would their child, even wagging my index finger at her.
"Shut the hell up and don't call me weird names!" she shouted in defiance. Saber spun around and started walking away, the magical hamburger still in her grasp. "Now you're just pissing me off. Go mess around somewhere else, you annoying-ass wizard."
"Well, nice seeing you too, Moe-chan. You should let your hair down sometime, you look cuter that way." She froze for a second before continuing her stride. For some odd reason I could not understand, I felt a strong need to bully Mordred and Jeanne.
I let out a bewildered "huh" while watching her angrily stomp away. I fully expected her to engage in a battle of words, not back off and just straight up leave, I guess the person I reminded her of—Merlin, the "flowery bastard" as she called him—had done a number on her in the past, leading to her avoid people who acted like him. I guess the best decision was to simply not play into their game, smart Moe-chan.
"Welp, that just happened. Time to go home." And to home is where I went soon after, laden with groceries.
The sun had sunk into the horizon, bringing darkness to Trifas. Inside an inconspicuous apartment, a certain red-haired boy opened his mouth to speak.
"Hey Jeanne?" Shirou called out to his housemate.
"Yes?" she responded, looking at him.
"I have something to confess, nothing weird—well, I guess it depends on how you look at it." He plopped down on the couch, sitting next to her. The Saintess remained silent, waiting for the redhead to continue. "You see, I actually came here with two things in mind."
"And what would those be?" she inquired.
"First, I'm here to help you as I've already said before… and the second is to stop all of this by destroying the Holy Grail," he revealed, without beating around the bush.
"I see," Jeanne nodded. "I may not be able to aid in your endeavor, but I wish you luck."
"So… you're not gonna tell me off?" A look of surprise crossed his face. "What if I'm doing this to harm people?"
"Oh, Shirou. From everything I've seen of you, you're most definitely not that kind of person, so don't even say otherwise," she said. While he may be blunt, sometimes bordering on rude or nonchalant, he possessed a kind heart and only wished the best for everyone.
"You've got me all figured out, huh?" Shirou chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Though, are you really fine with me going through with this? Isn't it your job and all to adhere to the Grail?"
"My duty is to uphold the rules of this war and make sure no innocent people get tangled up in it," she pointed out. "As for the Grail... it does not react to your words, so I see no reason for me to stop you. And it might even prevent a catastrophe from befalling the people of this town."
"I thought that you, a Saint recognized by the Church, would take offense to me desecrating one of the Church's holy reliquaries," Shirou said. While it might not be the actual Holy Chalice that Jesus Christ used, the Church certainly thought it was close enough, even declaring themselves as the governor of the Heaven's Feel Ritual, which they later dubbed as the 'Holy Grail War.'
"Are you not one as well?" she mentioned, motioning at the redhead. "And much like you, not once have I ever called myself a Saint, I merely did what I thought was right under the guidance of the Lord," Jeanne explained, bringing her hand over her heart.
"Do you hold any grudges against the Church? Or the English for that matter?" he tentatively asked. They not only branded her as a heretic but also burned her at the stake, surely there's some level of animosity there, right? If anything, they do not deserve to even associate themselves with her after what they did.
"The English fought for what they thought was right, while I did much the same. And I hold no grudges against the Church, nor blame them for their actions," she replied, her voice calm as the ocean despite the subject being about her death.
"But they stabbed you in the back. Had it not been for Callixtus the third, you would've went down in history as someone who you weren't. They—!" Shirou abruptly shut his mouth, swallowing his outburst. "I'm sorry for bringing that up. I don't know why I'm getting all heated up by this." He didn't know what came over him to even start this topic, so he promptly burried it right then and there.
"It is fine." The Saintess swayed her hand. "I appreciate your willingness to be angry on my behalf, Shirou. But please do not point that anger towards those affiliated with the Church, or I myself will be mad at you," she warned, puffing her cheeks cutely.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Shirou apologized, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "I definitely don't want to see you getting mad, Big G up there might just smite me," he joked.
The two conversed some more, enjoying each other's comfort, until Jeanne decided to bring up something relating to his plans about destroying the Greater Grail.
"But what of Assassin? Once the thing that anchors her existence vanishes, so would she shortly after," she mentioned, worry evident in her voice. "Reika would be saddened if that happens, or do you plan on supplying her with magical energy after the fact?" She turned, gazing at the door that led to Reika and Jack's room, formerly a storeroom, where they're currently sleeping together.
"About that, there's no need to worry. I have something in mind, just leave it to me," Shirou said confidently, pointing at himself.
After a day of contemplation, he planned on taking a piece of the Grail itself after its destruction and essentially turn it into a mana source for Jack to use in order to sustain herself when Shirou inevitably returns home. There were probably better ways to do it, but he admits that he is not the smartest when it came to the intricacies of magecraft, so that was the best he could do.
Shirou glanced at the clock on the wall, and spoke, "Well, it's getting late. How about we call it a night?"
Jeanne acknowledged his words with a hum, bid her goodnights and ended their conversation, then retired to her bedroom. While she might possess the spirit of a hero, her body remained that of a human, requiring regular sleep.
END.
Author's notes: Let me point out that every version of Shirou Emiya in this universe is a self-insert of myself. Why? I thought it was funny.
That's just how things are now. Don't worry about it.
