Elza was again drinking away her sorrows. Today would have been her son's sixteenth birthday, a day she had longed to spend cutting cake and celebrating with him. But those dreams had been cruelly shattered eleven years ago in Kyushi. She should have taken him with her, but she had decided to leave him with his grandparents, fearing the dangers of her destination. In a cruel twist of fate, it was the supposed safety of home that had proved to be the real threat.
Taking another sip, she leaned heavily on the bar table, trying to hold back the torrent of tears that threatened to spill over. Her efforts were in vain, and soon, the hot, silent tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the remnants of her drink. She closed her eyes, wishing for the sweet release of oblivion, and slowly, darkness began to engulf her.
"Miss," a voice broke through the haze. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the old bartender standing in front of her, the same one who had been serving her drinks earlier.
"It's time to close up. I'd appreciate it if you would leave," he said gently, his tone tinged with concern.
All Elza could do was nod. She raised her head and glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to midnight. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. Brockton Bay was not a place to be wandering around at this hour.
She pushed herself up from the table, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The room spun slightly, but she steadied herself, taking a deep breath to clear her head. The bartender gave her a sympathetic look as she fumbled for her coat.
"Take care out there," he said softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and understanding.
Elza managed a weak smile, a small token of gratitude for his kindness. She stepped out into the cool night air, the streets of Brockton Bay stretching out before her, ominous and foreboding. The city was a dangerous place at the best of times, but at midnight, it was a predator's playground.
She wrapped her coat tighter around herself and started walking, her mind a chaotic swirl of grief and regret. The memories of her son haunted her, each step a painful reminder of what she had lost. She stumbled once, catching herself against a lamppost, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her tears.
"Look what we have here," a slimy voice drawled. Elza's heart sank; she knew that voice all too well. Glancing around, she realized she had wandered to the mouth of an alley—the worst possible place to be at this moment.
Trying to catch her bearings, she attempted to walk away quickly. Panic set in when someone suddenly grabbed her hand. Turning around, she saw the yellowed teeth of an Asian man leering at her. Around him were three others, their menacing presence unmistakable.
ABB. Scums of the earth.
"Let me go," she demanded, her voice shaky but defiant as she struggled to free her hand from his grip. The man tightened his hold, a cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Now, now," he said mockingly, "why would we do that?"
The others chuckled, their laughter sending chills down her spine. Elza's mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic jumble. She knew the dangers these men posed, the stories of their cruelty and violence. Her heart pounded in her chest as she desperately searched for a way out.
"Please," she tried again, this time her voice softer, pleading. "I just want to go home."
The man with the yellow teeth leaned in closer, his breath hot and foul against her face. "Home?" he sneered. "I don't think you understand, lady. This is our territory. You don't just get to walk away."
Elza glanced around, hoping to spot a passerby, anyone who might help. But the streets were deserted, the city eerily quiet. She felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her, but she refused to give in. She had faced loss and pain before, and she would face this too.
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, she yanked her hand back with all her might. The man stumbled slightly, caught off guard by her strength. She took advantage of his surprise, turning to run. But another of the men grabbed her arm, pulling her back roughly.
"Not so fast," he growled, his grip bruising. She struggled, kicking out at him, but he was too strong.
Suddenly, a trash can lid came hurtling through the air, striking the head of the man holding her. He staggered back, releasing her hand. Elza was free. She spun around to see where the lid had come from and her breath hitched.
There, standing under the dim streetlight, was a boy with auburn hair and amber eyes. Eyes she would recognize anywhere. They were the eyes of Luca, her son.
"Luca," she breathed, her voice hitched. She couldn't believe her eyes.
The men turned to look at the newcomer, their expressions shifting from aggression to confusion. The one who had been holding her clutched the top of his head, blood seeping through his fingers.
Luca stepped forward, his stance protective, his gaze unwavering. "Leave her alone," he commanded, his voice steady and filled with authority that belied his years.
The men hesitated, taken aback by Luca's audacity. One of them, a burly figure with a sneer plastered on his face, stepped forward. "And who do you think you are, kid?" he snarled.
Luca's eyes narrowed, a sharpness in his tone that sent a shiver down the gangster's spine. "Somebody you do not wish to mess with," he retorted, his voice steady.
Feeling cornered and threatened, one of the gangsters pulled out a butterfly knife, the metallic gleam catching the dim light. Another followed suit, drawing his own blade, while a third reached for a concealed handgun, the threat of violence escalating rapidly.
"We are gonna fuck you up bad, you mongrel, before we do the same to this woman," the one with yellow teeth sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
Luca's jaw tightened, his gaze flickering briefly to Elza before returning to the men in front of him. He stood his ground, his stance unwavering despite the odds stacked against him. His mind raced, calculating his next move, the training he had kicking in with practiced precision.
Elza's heart pounded in her chest as fear gripped her once more. She had just been reunited with her son, and now they faced a group of violent thugs, armed and dangerous.
Before the man with the gun could even squeeze the trigger, Luca struck. His fist drove into the man's throat with brutal force, sending him staggering back, gasping for air. The gun clattered to the ground, forgotten.
Swift as a predator, Luca pivoted to confront the next assailant. With a calculated kick, he sent the man sprawling, his knife slipping from his grasp in midair. Luca snatched it deftly, twisting to face the third attacker who lunged towards him.
In one fluid motion, Luca met the third man's advance with a lethal thrust of the knife, piercing his throat without hesitation.
The fourth attacker swung a wild punch, but Luca sidestepped effortlessly, retaliating with a sharp jab to the man's face. He followed up with precise strikes, stabbing first at the man's leg, then his hand, before delivering a fatal blow to his throat.
The first assailant, wounded but determined, struggled to rise and grab Luca from behind. Reacting with lightning reflexes, Luca spun and delivered a devastating kick to the man's neck, a sickening crack echoing through the alley as he crumpled to the ground.
The final attacker, sensing his imminent demise, tried to flee. Without hesitation, Luca hurled his knife with deadly accuracy. The blade found its mark, burying itself deep in the man's skull, dropping him instantly.
In the aftermath, the alley fell silent except for Elza's heavy breathing and the faint sounds of the city beyond. The events had unfolded in a matter of a minute, yet they felt like an eternity to her. She stood there, still reeling from the shock of seeing her son after eleven long years, watching as he dispatched their assailants with the skill and precision of a ninja.
Lost in her thoughts, Elza was abruptly pulled back to reality by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned, her heart racing, to see a short girl of about twelve running towards Luca. Relief washed over Elza as Luca smiled at the girl.
"Go be with Mother while I clean up here," Luca said gently to the girl.
Mother? Elza's mind raced with confusion. That was her son, no doubt about it—he had called her Mother. But who was this girl? She couldn't recall ever giving birth to a daughter, and yet there she was, with the same auburn eyes as Luca.
Still processing everything that was happening, Elza looked down at the adorable girl standing by her side, mirroring her own confusion. Miyu's innocent gaze held a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, which mirrored Elza's own feelings about the situation unfolding before her.
Meanwhile, Luca busied himself with dragging the bodies further into the alley, away from prying eyes. Once he had them arranged to his satisfaction, he went to the nearest trash can and rummaged through it, his face wrinkling in distaste as he examined the contents. Elza watched in disbelief as he pulled out a few trash bags, inspecting them with a critical eye before grabbing them and heading back to where the bodies lay.
He then rummaged through his pocket and took out a lighter, flicking it open with a practiced motion. Elza's heart sank as she watched him ignite the flame and hurl it towards the bodies and trash, setting them ablaze in a burst of fire and smoke. Throughout the process, her mind raced with one singular thought—her son was carrying a lighter. And to her, that meant one thing: he was smoking.
Hell no, she couldn't allow that.
The sight of Luca lighting up the scene before her only intensified her concern. The flames licked at the darkness, casting an ominous glow across his face as he stood there, seemingly unaffected by the gravity of the situation. Elza's protective instincts surged within her, overriding any other emotions that threatened to surface.
Without thinking, she stepped forward, her voice firm with maternal authority. "Luca, what do you think you're doing?" Her tone brooked no argument, though beneath her outward strength, she felt a pang of fear and disappointment.
Luca turned to her, his amber eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surpris. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elza cut him off before he could utter a word.
"I saw that lighter," she continued, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of emotions. "You're not smoking"
For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by the crackling of the flames devouring the evidence of their encounter. Luca's expression softened, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of her words.
"Mom," Luca began, his voice tinged with frustration and resignation. "I don't smoke."
Elza stared at him, her heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. "Then the lighter?" she asked, her voice tinged with lingering concern.
"It's a tool for emergencies," Luca explained, his tone gentle yet firm. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the lighter, showing it to her. "I carry it for situations like this, Mom. It's not for smoking."
Elza examined the lighter, her mind finally easing as she understood his explanation. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, grateful that her fears had been unfounded. Despite everything, her son had done.
"Let's go home?" Luca asked, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance.
To which she nodded, but before she could say anything, she blacked out.
Shirou walked alongside his sister through the dismal streets, wrinkling his nose at the pervasive stench that hung in the air. Brockton Bay was far from inviting, especially at this late hour, but finding a place for them to spend the night was his priority. His mind raced, considering his options, even to the extent of summoning something luxurious thanks to Archer's meticulous memorization of mundane objects during his downtime. Now, with unlimited mana at his disposal and Gaia's support, he grasped why creatures like the beasts of the world or dead apostles were so feared. Yet, all this power seemed futile in finding an open pawn shop.
Lost in thought, his eyes suddenly locked onto a woman—a figure he had only glimpsed in fleeting dreams. When Kiritsugu had rescued him, memories of his family, his mother, and even his own name had vanished. But over time, fragments of those lost memories would surface in his dreams: his mother cooking, playing with him—moments cherished yet distant, buried deep in his subconscious. Seeing this woman now, he instinctively recognized her. He had often wandered through parts of Shinto, chasing shadows of his lost family, and here she was before him.
As Shirou watched, a group of men began to approach the lady—his mother. His senses sharpened with a primal instinct as he detected the menace they carried, the blades they brandished. Through his innate structural analysis, he glimpsed their histories, their past sins. They were the worst kind of scum the world could produce, and now they threatened his mother.
"Miyu, don't come near until it's over," he instructed his sister, his voice calm yet edged with a steely resolve.