A few days later, the news outlets buzzed with coverage of the mysterious devastation that had struck Fuyuki City. The strange explosion at Mount Enzō had left the city shaken, with rumors swirling among citizens, officials, and investigators alike.
"Breaking news," one anchor announced on the television screens scattered throughout the city. "Authorities have confirmed that the culprit behind the Mount Enzō explosion has been found dead at the site of the destruction. However, due to the severe condition of the body, the identity of the individual remains unknown."
Images of the disaster site flashed on the screen—scorched earth, rubble where the Ryuudou Temple once stood, and the remnants of a cavern exposed by the explosion. All that remained was ash and ruin.
"The corpse was found buried beneath the debris, believed to be near the epicenter of the explosion. Forensic experts are currently working to identify the remains, but the process is expected to take time given the extent of the injuries."
In the background, a blurry image of Kiritsugu's crushed and mangled form was shown, his identity lost in the chaos. Investigators speculated, but none could piece together the truth of what had occurred deep within the cavern.
For the citizens of Fuyuki, the unknown dead figure quickly became the scapegoat for the disaster. The authorities were eager to close the case, with no answers forthcoming from the magical world or its hidden war.
And so, with the story fed to the public, the mystery of the burning mountain would slowly fade into legend, sealed away beneath the ashes of Mount Enzō, alongside the fallen hero who had fought to end it all.
At the local church, the somber atmosphere weighed heavily on the attendees as they gathered for the funeral of Kirei Kotomine. His father, Father Risei Kotomine, stood at the front, his usually strong, unwavering expression now masked by a solemn grief. The loss of his only son had pierced through even his ironclad faith, and the lines on his face seemed deeper, his age more apparent as he silently received condolences from the mourners.
The church was dimly lit, the scent of incense filling the air, and the sound of quiet whispers mixed with the occasional murmured prayer. Guests moved through the church, offering words of sympathy to Father Risei, who nodded humbly at each one, though his gaze remained distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Among those attending was Tokiomi Tohsaka, head of the Tohsaka family, accompanied by his wife Aoi, and their daughters, Rin. Dressed in black, Tokiomi's expression was one of practiced mourning, his demeanor graceful as he approached Father Risei.
"My deepest condolences, Father," Tokiomi spoke softly, bowing his head respectfully. "Kirei was a fine young man. His loss is deeply felt."
Father Risei gave a slow nod, his voice quiet but controlled. "Thank you, Tokiomi. He has returned to the Lord's embrace."
Aoi offered her own words of sympathy, her voice trembling slightly as she held Rin's hand tightly.
Tokiomi placed a hand on Rin's head, gently stroking her hair as he looked towards Father Risei once more. "If there is anything the Tohsaka family can do to help you in this difficult time, do not hesitate to reach out."
"Thank you, Tokiomi," Father Risei replied, though there was a distant sadness in his eyes. "Your presence is already a great comfort."
As they moved aside to allow other guests to pay their respects, Tokiomi's mind briefly wandered. Though the war had ended in disaster, the power struggles and responsibilities of the Mage Association never truly ceased. Kirei had been an important part of his plans, and now… he was gone.
As the last of the mourners drifted away and the church became eerily quiet, Father Risei Kotomine approached Tokiomi Tohsaka, his steps slow and deliberate. The solemn expression on his face had deepened, and there was a weight in his eyes that Tokiomi could not ignore. He had sensed this moment was coming, though he hoped it would not.
"Tokiomi," Risei called out, his voice still steady but tinged with something more personal now. "Before you leave… there is something I must return to you."
Feeling that this is an important talk, Aoi tactfully brought Rin away first.
Tokiomi turned to face the old priest, his brows furrowing slightly as he saw the glint of something familiar in Risei's hands. It was the Azoth dagger—the very blade Tokiomi had given to Kirei as a symbolic gesture when he had chosen him as his apprentice and confidant, a representation of their bond and the alliance between their two families.
Tokiomi's face remained unreadable as Risei extended the dagger towards him. The implications of this gesture hung heavy in the air. Returning the dagger meant much more than simply the end of Kirei's life—it signified the dissolution of the Kotomine-Tohsaka alliance, a relationship that had been meticulously nurtured over time.
Father Risei's voice was low as he spoke, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. "This no longer belongs with my family. Kirei… has gone, and with him, the bond we shared."
Tokiomi hesitated for only a moment before he accepted the dagger, his fingers curling around the familiar hilt. The coldness of the metal felt heavier than it should, as if the burden of the war and its aftermath was concentrated in that single object.
He looked at the blade in silence, his mind calculating the losses that had accumulated, not just in lives but in alliances, in power. The war had taken more than just the Grail from him—it had dismantled the very foundation upon which he had built his plans for the future.
"Thank you, Father," Tokiomi finally said, his voice calm, though the words felt distant. He chose not to acknowledge the deeper meaning behind the gesture, not aloud. It was clear enough between them.
With this, the familial alliance between the Tohsaka and the Kotomine was, for all intents and purposes, dissolved. Another loss to be tallied among the wreckage left by the Fourth Holy Grail War.
Tokiomi offered Risei a final bow, his expression schooled into one of grace and dignity, but inside, he could feel the edges of his carefully constructed world fraying. The war was over, but its consequences were only beginning to make themselves known.
Before leaving, as an act of courtesy, Tokiomi paused and turned back to Father Risei. His voice was measured, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity.
"What are your plans now, Father Risei?"
The old priest glanced at the Azoth dagger now in Tokiomi's hand before lifting his eyes to meet Tokiomi's gaze. He sighed deeply, a weight of years evident in the subtle lowering of his shoulders.
"Well," he began, his voice soft but steady, "I will simply return to the Vatican. It's time to visit and spend my remaining days with my granddaughter, Caren. I believe I've done all I can here."
Tokiomi gave a respectful nod, understanding the subtle implication behind Risei's words. A life of service, duty, and loss, now nearing its conclusion.
"I see," Tokiomi responded, a formal but respectful acknowledgment of the old man's choice. There was no need for further words.
Before Tokiomi could depart, he paused once more, his voice taking on a firm, resolute tone.
"Before you leave, Father Risei, I may need your favor one last time."
Father Risei turned, his expression still composed but curious. "Name it."
Tokiomi handed him a sealed envelope. "Please give these to the Pope."
Father Risei's eyes widened slightly. "These are…?"
"A detailed report on the Grail War, from both my perspective and the Matous'. Also a request letter."
Father Risei's brow furrowed, suspicion clouding his features. "But why?"
Tokiomi's voice took on a darker edge as he explained, "The Matous contacted me."
"...!?" Risei's face registered surprise.
"They want justice for the slight the Einzberns dealt them," Tokiomi continued, his words sharp. "And personally, I want answers."
Tokiomi didn't just lose Kirei, his right-hand man, and student in this war. With Archer being the first Servant killed, his dignity was already wounded. Now, even his alliance with the Kotomine family was severed, leaving him at a loss.
He was, in simple words, furious.
"If the Einzberns had accepted their loss gracefully, as I have," Tokiomi's voice seethed with restrained anger, "I wouldn't be this angry. But they destroyed the Grail rather than allowing the victor to claim their rightful prize. All my sacrifices—everything—were made pointless."
For a magus like Tokiomi, the Grail War was not just a contest—it was a sacred ritual, one that could lead him to the Root. To him, that was the highest honor, the pinnacle of what it meant to be a magus.
But the Einzberns' decision to destroy the Grail had shattered all that, rendering every sacrifice in the war meaningless. Tokiomi's voice lowered, filled with cold determination. "I will make them pay for what they've done."
Father Risei listened intently as Tokiomi continued, his calm demeanor hiding the tension beneath his words.
"I have also contacted the Archibald family," Tokiomi added, his voice hard. "With the loss of their head and crest, they are in disarray, scrambling to minimize their losses. They will likely lend their support to our cause."
In another universe, a certain commoner magus might have survived the Holy Grail War and been made a scapegoat for the Archibalds. But here, in this reality, that magus had perished, leaving the Archibalds cornered with no alternative but to cooperate.
Father Risei nodded once more, fully grasping the intricacies of the situation. He clutched the envelope, understanding that it symbolized not only a plea for justice but a declaration of war against the Einzberns.
"I will ensure the Pope receives this," Risei repeated, his voice firm with conviction.
Tokiomi turned, his face unreadable yet burning with an inner resolve. As he walked away, the tension in the air seemed to solidify, the weight of his unspoken vow heavy between them.
With the support from the church, the clock tower will have no choice but to act in their support to corner the Einzbern. With the support of the church, the clock tower, and 3 great family the Einzbern will have no choice but to comply.
The Einzberns would pay!!!
With Tokiomi's footsteps echoing in the quiet church, the wheels of a new confrontation began turning. What had once been a ritual to seek the Root had now become a bitter struggle for retribution.
In the dark, damp underground of the Matou household, the air was thick with the stench of decay, and shadows clung to every corner like a living, oppressive presence. The only source of light came from a flickering candle that did little to chase away the gloom.
Standing alone before her family elder was a young girl, her small frame barely illuminated by the faint glow. Her name was Sakura Matou, though she had once been known as Sakura Tohsaka, a name now forgotten and abandoned due to a family contract that had sealed her fate. Her once vibrant, curious eyes were now dulled, her expression blank, devoid of any spark of life or rebellion. She stood submissively, her head bowed, and her hands loosely clenched at her sides. The years of brutal "training" had stripped her of her childhood and worn her mind raw. The only thread keeping her from unraveling completely had been the soft, kind words from her uncle, Kariya, the one person who had shown her a semblance of kindness amidst the nightmare.
"Please, Sakura, you need to be strong, just for now, alright?" His voice echoed in her memory, a lifeline she had clung to. He had asked her to be strong, and she had promised. No matter the pain, the horrors, she had vowed to endure.
Now, she stood before Zouken Matou, the twisted and ancient patriarch of the Matou family. He sat hunched over, his gnarled fingers steepled in front of him, his presence as malevolent as the darkness around them. His sunken eyes, filled with malice, glinted as they bore into Sakura.
Zouken snorted, his lip curling in distaste. He wasted no time on pleasantries. His words were as cold and direct as the environment around them.
"Kariya is dead."
The words hung in the air like a blade, but Sakura did not flinch. She had known the moment would come, but hearing it spoken aloud still carved a hollow space inside her. Zouken's voice droned on, devoid of any emotion.
"But before he died, we made a deal. The Grail for your return."
Zouken paused, eyeing her with the cruelty of a man who had long since forgotten what compassion looked like. He leaned back in his chair, the creaking sound echoing in the underground chamber. "While I didn't get the Grail," he continued, "he did technically win the war. It wouldn't do if people started saying that the Matou family didn't keep its end of the bargain."
He let the silence stretch, his words hanging ominously before he continued. "So, I will ask you once—and only once." He leaned forward, his decaying face more menacing in the dim light. "Are you going to leave? Or are you going to stay?"
Sakura's heart pounded in her chest, though her expression remained the same—dull, lifeless. Her future, her fate, hung on this moment, and the weight of it pressed down on her shoulders like a crushing burden.
"If you stay," Zouken said, his voice taking on a sinister edge, "I promise that you will receive my full support to become a true magus. You will be given the treatment of the heir to the Matou family. All the power you were denied, all the knowledge... it will be yours."
Sakura's breath hitched. She knew what that meant. Power. But at what cost? What more would she have to endure? How much more of her soul would be carved away?
Zouken's voice shifted to a low, mocking tone as he added, "But if you choose to leave, I will personally send you back to the Tohsakas. And as for what happens after... well, I'm sure you already know."
His laugh was a soft, hollow chuckle, filled with wicked amusement.
"Now choose."
The words echoed in her mind, twisting and turning like venom. To stay meant more suffering, more of the grotesque torment that had shaped her into this hollow shell. But leaving… returning to the Tohsakas would be no salvation.
Sakura's father, the head of the Tohsaka family, had sold her to the Matous without hesitation. He hadn't even looked back. If she were to return, she knew exactly what awaited her—another sale, another transaction to another magus family. She was nothing but a tool to him, a spare child to be traded for alliances, for favors. After all, only the heir could inherit the Tohsaka family magic crest, and Sakura was the second child. A girl destined to be cast aside.
The only thing that awaited her outside this prison was another. Another family. Another crest. Another life as someone else's property.
There was no real safety anywhere. Both paths were lined with shadows.
The silence stretched, unbearable and suffocating, like the air in the dark chamber. Her thoughts swirled in chaos, colliding against each other. Images of her past flashed before her—the distant, but smiling face of her father, her sister's back as she was left behind, her mother absent, the empty nights in the Matou household filled with horror. And through it all, one memory stood above the rest: her uncle, Kariya, the one person who had loved her.
"You need to be strong, alright?" His voice echoed in her mind, a faint light in the consuming darkness.
But Kariya was gone now. Dead. The last person who truly cared for her, who wanted to protect her, was no more. Sakura's lips pressed into a thin line. She had promised him she would be strong. And strength was all that mattered now. The world she was trapped in had no room for weakness.
Power.
It was all that could protect her now. It was the only way to survive.
Stay and gain power. Leave and face the Tohsakas.
As the candle flickered one last time, barely illuminating the shadowy chamber, Sakura's decision hardened within her. She couldn't go back. She wouldn't. She had no family to return to. No future outside of this place. The only way forward was to embrace the darkness around her. To take what power she could and hope it would be enough to shield her from whatever came next.
Slowly, Sakura lifted her head, her gaze locking with Zouken's. The weight of her decision settled into her chest like a stone, heavy and final. She could feel her heart racing, but her face remained impassive, as cold and blank as ever.
Zouken's thin, cracked lips stretched into a cruel smile, his dark eyes glinting with satisfaction.
"Excellent," he rasped, his voice filled with twisted amusement.
The old magus leaned back in his chair, the wooden creak echoing in the chamber as if the shadows themselves were pleased by her choice. His gnarled fingers twitched, and for a brief moment, Sakura thought she could see something slither in the darkness behind him—something unnatural, alive, feeding on the despair she had just accepted.
But Sakura did not look away. She had made her choice. And there was no turning back now.
On the porch of a modest home, a middle-aged man sat quietly, gazing out at the small garden before him. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the neatly tended flowers and bushes. His expression was one of quiet reflection, the kind that comes with years of both contentment and burden.
The wind rustled gently through the leaves, but the man remained still, lost in his thoughts. Though the scene was peaceful, there was an air of something unsaid—perhaps a decision weighed or a path considered.
In the simplicity of the moment, life continued its steady rhythm around him, yet within, the man's thoughts stirred like the soft breeze that danced through the garden.
Unknown to anyone this man was the same man whom almost crashes his car to an innocent passerby. Only for Berserker to save the passerby and unknowingly changes the destiny of many other.
"Dad, did you called me?" A child with auburn hair and golden brown eyes come and sit next to the middle aged man. The boy looked hardly seven years old.
The man looked down at the boy with auburn hair and golden brown eyes, a soft smile briefly crossing his face before fading back into the quiet reflection he held moments before. He gently patted his son's head, the warmth of the small moment between them a contrast to the weight of the thoughts swirling in his mind.
"Yeah, I just wanted to see how you're doing," the man said softly, his voice filled with a tender warmth. "It's peaceful out here, don't you think?"
The boy nodded, his youthful innocence evident as he looked out at the garden. "It is, Dad. I like it here."
The man sighed inwardly, remembering that fateful night. The close call, the near accident, and how it had all changed with a sudden, unexpected intervention. He hadn't known what had happened in those brief seconds, but somehow, someone saved him and gone before he can even say his gratitude.
If the car were to hit, his life will be over, his family life will be over, the passerby will die and Japan is not a kind place for the culprit.
The boy, oblivious to the heavy burden of what could have been, looked up at his father, his golden eyes bright with curiosity. "Dad, can we plant more flowers? I want to make the garden even bigger for mom and my Lil bro!"
The man, Takayuki Enjou chuckled lightly, nodding as he ruffled the boy's hair again. "Sure Tomoe, we can do that."
The father then freeze. "Hey! Who said it'll be a boy, I wanted a daughter!" The man said childishly while laughing.
"Oh hush...let him be, dear." His wife chided him, her pregnant belly was clear to see.
Meanwhile the boy, Tomoe Enjou eagerly began to plan out where they would plant the new flowers, the man continued to watch him with a distant look in his eyes. He didn't know what fate had in store for them, but he was thankful for this small moment of peace—a peace that, in another world, might never have come.
In the vast expanse of Alaya's awareness, the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War was a profound moment of reflection. Alaya reviewed the intricate web of manipulations and interventions that had shaped the course of the conflict and ensured the survival of humanity.
The changes Alaya had enacted were subtle yet crucial. Byakuya Matou, one of the war's key players, had been subtly manipulated, Alaya also prevent the intervention of the spesific insects, which could have led to catastrophic consequences.
This strategic alteration was essential to maintain the balance and ensure that humanity's survival was safeguarded. Alaya's guidance, though indirect, played a vital role in steering the events toward a resolution that preserved the world's future.
Amidst these reflections, Alaya also mourned the loss of one of its guardians, Berserker Emiya. His sacrifice had been a heavy but necessary price for the greater good of humanity. Emiya valor and ultimate fall were acknowledged as a worthy contribution to the preservation of life and balance. His actions had not been in vain, and his memory would be remembered as a testament to the sacrifices made for the protection of humanity.
!!?
Suddenly it shifted in a surprised!
Alaya, in its boundless expanse of awareness, registered the emergence of a new variable, a boy named Tomoe Enjou with a notable sense of surprise.
A champion??
An unexpected champion, a product of the altered events of the Fourth Holy Grail War, this presented a new variable in the grand tapestry of humanity's future.
Alaya, ever the meticulous guardian, shifted its focus to the potential impacts this singular presence might have. The calculation of this new variable, Tomoe Enjou, was of utmost importance. Alaya analyzed how his existence could influence future events, considering both the immediate and long-term ramifications on the trajectory of human progress.
While unable to expressing emotions, Alaya recognized that the introduction of Tomoe Enjou represented a significant shift in the balance of potential outcomes. The presence of this new champion could lead to unforeseen changes, reshaping the future in ways that even Alaya could only predict with cautious precision.
Thus, Alaya's contemplation was one of strategic assessment, evaluating how Tomoe Enjou's potential would weave into the broader narrative of humanity's survival and evolution.
End
