Grass laden with hoarfrost tickled Shirou's back, seeping thawed dew through his tattered clothing. He took a sharp intake of breath, relishing the crisp air in his lungs. There was no smoke or fire, no dust or debris.
A soothing sensation veiled his body. Like a cooling balm, it was potent in some areas and mild in others, dulling his aches and pains. Now that the adrenaline was gone, it felt like he could drift away and lose himself to the throes of sleep at any second.
"Am I dead?" he mumbled. It didn't hurt to speak anymore. He was ready for what came after.
"Is this the thanks I get?" an exasperated voice replied.
Shirou slowly opened his eyes. The shrouded woman claimed his vision, mauve lips shaped into a frown.
"You saved me," Shirou realized. He had denounced her, meant to kill her. "Why?"
"You asked me to save the children. So, I saved the children."
Shirou thought for a second, then realized what she was implying. "I'm not a kid," he protested.
The woman smiled, and Shirou realized that was exactly what a kid would say. "Is Atrum dead?" he questioned, changing the subject.
Instead of answering, she made a flourish with her hand, beckoning him to look. Shirou tilted his head.
Where there once stood a building now lay a wreckage. A plume of smoke and debris ascended from the detritus of the hotel, visible even in the twilight. He saw flashing red lights smothered in the cloud, bolstered by a blaring siren. The police must have come to investigate.
"That man lies buried beneath rock and steel. He will never rise again," she said. The woman turned back to Shirou. "To use a foreign environment to your advantage is a bold gambit. To turn your opponent's own strength against him is even bolder."
"It was the only way I could defeat him. If I was stronger, I could have subdued him in a better way." Shirou's mouth stretched thin. "But you could have stopped him at any time," he accused.
"I would have, had you not interfered," the woman said. "But then I wanted to teach you a lesson. One you would take to the grave." She traced a glowing finger along his arm. Her tone chilled. "Those people were not worthy of your sympathy."
Shirou hesitated. Atrum deserved to die for his sins, but justifying murder seemed strange. "I acted too hastily. For that, I'm sorry."
He tried to get up for a more formal apology, but the attempt spurred a wave of nausea through his body.
"I would advise against moving," she said, and the soothing feeling intensified, alleviating the queasy churning in his stomach. "You've wounded yourself quite thoroughly. Frankly, it would be faster to list the parts of you that aren't broken."
"Are you healing me?" Shirou asked. His father had never told him about healing magecraft before.
"Indeed. There was once a time when I was known as a renowned healer all throughout the land." Her inflection took on a plaintive note. "That time has long since passed, but my proficiency remains."
He was starting to wonder if there was anything the woman hadn't mastered. "Thank you again. But I can't rest now. There are still a few things I need to do."
He tried to get up again, but the woman jabbed a finger into his arm. She didn't apply much pressure, but Shirou still hissed, ripples of pain emitting from her touch.
"Ow…" he groaned, sinking back onto the grass.
The woman sighed. "See, little magus? When I retrieved you, you had a plethora of bruises and scrapes, several fractured bones, your entire body was either burned, charred, or melted, compounded with severe nerve damage and internal bleeding. That's not even including how you overtaxed your Magic Circuits," she recited. "Recovery is not a road to be rushed."
Shirou winced. He didn't realize the extent of the damage. "I need to check on the kids. Then I need to get them somewhere safe." The police could help, or even the yakuza. Old man Raiga wouldn't let children go without a home.
"Rest." She nudged his head to the other direction, and Shirou saw the unconscious forms of the children to the side. "They are alright. I've lifted the various curses inflicted upon them. They'll begin waking at any moment. The one you should be worrying about is yourself, boy," she said.
He let out a breath of relief, worry quelled. "Shirou," he said petulantly.
"Hmm?"
"My name is Shirou Emiya. Not 'boy.'"
The woman's lips quirked upward. "Shirou," she breathed. His heart beat faster. "Shirou. Yes, that will do nicely. I shall call you Shirou."
"What should I call you?" he asked quickly. Hearing a stranger say his first name was unfamiliar. Only Fuji-nee and Kiritsugu had ever used it.
"I have had many names throughout my life," she said. "You may call me Caster."
"Caster, then." He smiled. "It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
For a few minutes, there was peace. Shirou rested calmly, losing himself to the lull of Caster's healing.
But Caster suddenly stiffened. She stood up. Abruptly, the soothing feeling vanished, and Shirou felt his aches return.
"Caster?" he asked, confused.
"Hush." Her voice was tense and stifled. "Get to safety. Now."
"What are yo-"
"Go!" she ordered. Alarmed, Shirou trudged behind a nearby tree.
Caster levitated off the ground, hovering forward until she was dozens of meters away from Shirou. Mana revolved around her like the winds of a tornado.
Shirou watched as a man leapt from a nearby building and landed right in front of Caster. His red cloak fluttered in the wind, rigged over black body armor and black pants that highlighted his muscular build. He was tall, with slick white hair, tanned skin and eyes like silver bullets. Without fear, he strode before Caster, gaze locked onto her. Every step exuded power.
He was strong.
"You've come to kill me," Caster said. Sigils materialized around her. Glowing circular symbols illuminated her cloak, billowing with mana.
Blades materialized, yin and yang in the man's hands. "I have."
"A pity. We need not fight. With our strengths combined, we could be unstoppable."
The man smirked. "You have no idea who I am," he said, all poise. "But I know a witch when I see one."
"Don't call me a witch," Caster muttered, nearly imperceptible, and the battle began.
Caster fought to kill. Magic circles spun wildly around her, cascading beam after beam of violent light towards the swordsman. Each attack carved deep clefts into the ground, deadlier than any lightning bolt Atrum had conjured. But the swordsman sidestepped them with ease. Caster's barrage hadn't even scratched him.
Grimacing, Caster flew like a bat, evading slashes from the man's twin swords. He chased after her relentlessly. Every projectile she evoked was either deflected, parried, or dodged, while the swordsman continued to close the distance. She was losing, and Shirou was beginning to understand why.
Caster was doubtless the greatest magus he had ever met. With but a word, she could knit intricate designs of mana, advanced magecraft far beyond human limits. The issue sprouted from her supply of mana, or lack thereof. She was a reservoir, a leaking cup. Every spell she invoked would drain her reserves. Already, her presence was weaker than when Shirou first encountered her.
But her opponent had no such limitations. He was a whirlpool, a maelstrom of strength. Every movement was supercharged with mana, and he showed no signs of slowing down. Combined with a speed that Shirou couldn't perceive, Caster was barely keeping the swordsman at bay.
Shirou wanted to intervene, wanted to do anything, but they were in the skies, dozens of meters away. He was trapped, useless and weak.
A stab pierced Caster's cloak. A vertical slash grazed her cheek. The blades came dangerously close to Caster's neck, but a sudden barrier stopped them in his tracks, followed by a blast of energy that sent the swordsman reeling earthward.
As the man descended, he propelled his twin blades towards Caster for one more attack. Caster was just able to avoid them in time. That gave her a breath of space, and her mouth began forming inaudible words at a rapid pace.
Luminescent glyphs from an ancient language swirled around the falling swordsman, erecting a tight ring of symbols about. The instant he landed on the ground, Caster unleashed a burst of mana, and the man was imprisoned in a half-sphere consisting of translucent shades of violet.
The swordsman was trapped. His body was restrained by the spell, unable to even budge. He scowled, face tightening. Shirou felt a smidgen of hope in his chest.
Caster huffed, shoulders rising up and down. She let a smile form on her face. "It appears to be checkmate."
Mana accumulated over her shoulder, crystallizing into a growing mass of violet energy. She'll blast him into smithereens, Shirou thought.
But he had thought too soon. "Behind you!" he bellowed.
At his words, Caster twisted her head. Twin swords blazed towards her on either side. She dove to the earth, avoiding the attack in the last second, but at the cost of her concentration.
The swordsman broke free from his capture, cracking open the half-sphere. Spinning, he grabbed his swords mid-air, rushing forward to intercept Caster. This time, he moved even faster than before, forcing Caster on the complete defensive.
Caster was running out of mana. The difference was palpable. Her motions were sluggish, and her spells bloomed at a slower rate. Even Shirou could see she was at the end of her rope.
"Stop!" Shirou yelled, coming out from his hiding spot.
The man gave him a disdainful glance, then hurled his black sword towards Shirou. Death whirled towards him. Shirou couldn't avoid it. He raised his arms in the blade's path as a makeshift guard.
Right before Shirou was cut, a blast of violet from Caster's side sent the sword flying away. But the brief distraction gave the man the chance to stab Caster in the gut with his remaining blade. The tip of the blade exited out her back.
Caster let out a sharp cry of pain, blood pouring from her mouth. Horror burgeoned within Shirou.
The swordsman ripped the blade out, eliciting another agonized howl. Caster staggered back, grasping at her wound, teeth clenched together, before suddenly collapsing into spasms.
Shirou charged. "Let her go!" he roared. He swung his fist, but the man easily stepped out of the way, then clobbered Shirou in the side in one smooth motion.
A scream tore through his throat. Shirou fell to the dirt, losing all strength in his limbs.
He heard Caster whisper something beside him. "You…"
The man raised his blade, moonlight running along its edge. Shirou crawled, putting his body between the man and Caster.
"She didn't do anything wrong," he wheezed. "Let her go."
"You should have run when you had the chance," the swordsman answered. His eyes were stone-cold.
The blade came down a blur, its song of steel resounding through the air. Shirou draped his body over Caster's. He would be her shield, her barrier. He stared as the sword quivered closer and closer, bracing himself for impact.
A wail broke through the silence. The sword stopped, right before it pierced Shirou's stomach. The swordsman froze, wavering.
The children had awakened. Some were crying. Most were shivering. But all were watching with small, frightened eyes at the scene before them.
"Caster saved them," Shirou said. "They would all be dead if not for her. Human sacrifice."
The man's gaze flickered back to him, consternation evident in his expression. "What? No, Caster wouldn't…"
"Don't murder the one who saved them," Shirou begged.
The swordsman grit his teeth, almost pained. He withdrew his arm. The blade dissipated into nothing. "I won't kill in front of children," he said, sounding resigned.
"Go," he spat, eyes narrowing. "Go before I change my mind." The man bristled, as if every word was wrenched out of him. "I'll take care of the kids. But know this, and know it well." The swordsman's eyes cut into Shirou. "If I ever see you again, prancing around in the night, I'll kill you myself."
He felt a trickle of fear. The swordsman meant every word he said.
Then, the man turned around and headed towards the children, away from Shirou. He crouched down, face becoming almost gentle, as he shrugged off his cloak and wrapped some children in it.
"We should leave," Caster said from behind him, her voice faint. Shirou turned around. At some point she had gotten on her feet, and she already began walking away. Shirou drifted behind her.
"Caster, you're hurt," he said, worrying about. "You shouldn't be moving."
She continued walking, her footsteps perfectly spaced apart, silent and even. "Are you coming?" she asked, ignoring his concern.
They entered a nearby forest. Above, dark clouds obscured the moon, and raindrops soon followed. Despite the rain, Caster kept walking until the swordsman was out of sight, Shirou at her tail.
She stopped. Without warning, she slumped against a nearby tree. She stared into the sky.
"Caster!" Shirou fell to his knees. He checked her status. Her breathing was erratic, her complexion deadly pale. The rain. "Damn it, we need to get you indoors!"
"Don't bother," she murmured, soft and faint. "This is it for me, boy."
"We'll get you to a hospital and then…"
"No human facilities can treat me," she chuckled bitterly.
Shirou made a fist, unwilling to accept her words. "Then where can?" he demanded.
"There's a nearby temple. But even tha-!"
Shirou scooped her up in his arms. A nearby temple. Ryuudou Temple, it had to be. They weren't that far away. If she needed a spiritual blessing, Issei could help.
Desperately, he ran straight towards Mount Enzou. But only a few steps in, his legs gave way, and they fell forward. Grunting, Shirou twisted so his back hit the ground instead of Caster. Thick mud splattered through his shirt and pants and into his hair.
"Enough." She curled a hand around his arm. "You're too weak. You will only reopen your wounds like this. Let me go, boy."
"Don't say that!" Panting, Shirou pushed himself off the ground and plodded towards Mount Enzou. He didn't bother trying to run this time, focusing on stabilizing his legs as they trembled.
The rain intensified, water drumming everywhere. Shirou clutched Caster closer, trying to protect her from the elements. Even drenched, she weighed almost nothing, like a snowflake, fragile. She was covered in blood.
"You won't die," Shirou rasped. It was getting hard to see. Raindrops fogged his sight. He shivered. You won't die, he repeated. A mantra. You won't die.
Caster didn't respond. Or maybe he couldn't hear her over the deluge. He couldn't tell. She shifted in his arms. He held her tighter.
The downpour sliced hollow shapes inside him, and a chill encroached his bones. Shirou wasn't sure how long he had trekked until his foot hit sculpted stone. He looked up. The stairs of Ryuudou temple. Pulling himself upward, Shirou scaled the steps one at a time. He made sure not to slip. If he fell, he wasn't sure if he could get up again.
At last, he reached the top. The temple gate loomed over them.
"We need help!" he yelled. "I have someone who needs treatment!"
No one was awake at this hour, and no one would hear him over the rain. Shirou swore, then entered an open temple hall. It was dark and musty, but it would shelter them from the storm. He set Caster down on the tiled floor.
He was about to call for help again when he perceived a warm sensation that cut through the cold. He stopped. Caster pulled on his leg.
"You've done well," she lilted. Light shimmered at the edge of her figure. She was fading away.
"Caster? What's going on?" he asked.
"Life is costly for those who shouldn't exist. The world is rejecting me," she whispered, forlorn. "This temple sits on a leyline, but it is not enough. I need mana, but your blood is the only fount available."
"Then take as much as you need," he said immediately, not doubting her words.
Caster pursed her lips. "Your blood is thin," she warned. "You've utterly exhausted yourself. I cannot guarantee your survival."
Without a word, Shirou slashed his palm against the nearest wall. The rain had weakened his flesh, so the ceramic tile easily shaved his skin.
He brought his now-bleeding hand to Caster's mouth, an offering.
"This is my fault." His voice shook. Shirou pictured the white blade piercing Caster's body, blood dripping down its edge. "You got hurt because of me. I need to make things right."
"My choice was mine and mine alone," she said. "But very well. Endure."
Caster's mouth gently pressed on Shirou's palm. Her tongue latched onto his skin, reluctantly at first, but then with vigor, lapping up his flowing blood.
Then, darkness.
Shirou awoke to a heavy headache. The morning sun glared from outside the hall, straining his weary head. Groaning, he turned away, embracing the soothing warmth pressed to his side. Just a few more minutes…
"Oh dear," the warmth said. "I never thought you would be so forward."
Shirou's eyes darted open. He found himself mere centimeters away from an unfamiliar face, curled up against him. She had long, periwinkle hair. Some of it was fashioned into a braid, but the rest trailed down her back. Her ears were oddly pointed, like triangles. A thick choker stretched around her neck, and her pale cheeks were the slightest shade of pink. Amusement illuminated her slate-blue eyes.
"Are you alright, Shirou?" she asked, and he finally recognized her.
"C-Caster?" he shuttered, totally flushed. "W-what are you doing?"
"You told me to call you Shirou. Should I call you 'boy' instead?" she questioned, tilting her head.
"That's not what I meant! Why are you…so close?"
"You were drenched in rainwater," she said, innocent as a flower. "I couldn't let you get a cold. Is there a problem?"
"Yes!" he exclaimed. He pulled away from her, then silently lamented the loss of heat. "There are too many problems!"
"Oh? Could you elaborate for me?" she asked, a twinkle in her eyes. "Perhaps I can discern a solution."
My heart, beating like a drum. Without her hood, Caster was mystifying, an otherworldly beauty. But he couldn't say that out loud. Not without losing all of his remaining dignity.
Shirou turned away. "I'm glad you're okay," he said instead, hiding his thoughts.
Caster laughed. "All thanks to you," she responded, before turning serious. "You came very close to death last night."
He shook his head. "I was only repaying the favor. You saved me first."
As they conversed, a monk entered the hall, broom in hand. Shirou wasn't sure how he would explain the situation, but the monk walked past them, as if they were invisible.
Caster noticed his confusion. "I enacted a Bounded Field in this building. No one will disturb us while it stands. Which reminds me."
"It is time you learned about the Holy Grail War," she said, not a hint of mirth in her tone.
"So there are seven Servants, each a hero of history, summoned to fight for a wish. And you're one of them?" Shirou thought he had the gist of it. Part of him didn't want to believe it, but a greater part of him couldn't deny what he had seen.
"Yes. I have come to obtain the Holy Grail," she said. "I am Caster, one of the seven classes."
"And the man from last night?" His power was far beyond a normal human.
"Undeniably a Servant. But I cannot determine his class," she pondered. "He fought while revealing almost nothing about his identity. With his swordsmanship, he might be a Saber, but his lack of magical resistance combined with his tactical mind suggests an Assassin. Furthermore, he knew exactly what I planned to do, before I had decided myself. It was as if he had gleaned all of my abilities at once."
Shirou recalled the man's blade jutting out of Caster's back, his cold steel eyes. "I don't want you to fight him again," he said. "He's too dangerous."
"You need not fret," Caster said languidly. "I will not make the same mistake twice. Here, I will establish myself. This temple is a powerful resource. With proper fortification, I shan't succumb to any other Servant."
Her expression turned serious. "I must ask you. What will you do? You are no Master. This is not yo-"
"I'll fight," Shirou said without hesitation.
Caster's eyes widened. "Do you have a wish?"
He shook his head. "I don't. Besides, the Holy Grail sounds like a sham to me. There's no way something as convenient as an all-granting wish device could exist. But if there are other magi like Atrum," Shirou started, thinking of the laboratory, and all the trapped children. "I'll stop them," he concluded.
Caster was still. "A noble cause, but a reckless one. You have seen how powerful a Servant can be. What could you possibly do?"
"I don't know," Shirou acknowledged. "But I won't let them hurt anyone else."
"Fool…" She pinched her brow, then met Shirou's gaze. "Why am I not surprised?"
He wanted to retort, until he realized how high the sun was. "Do you know what time it is right now?"
"Around ten in the morning," Caster replied.
Shoot. "I'm late for school. Fuji-nee is going to kill me…" he panicked.
Caster gave him a bemused look. "Is school that important to you?"
"Yes. I need to go." Shirou sprung to his feet. But before he could leave, Caster stopped with a raised finger, freezing him in place. Then, she shoved him into a bathroom, before dropping the spell.
"Hey, what was that for?" he protested.
"Examine yourself," she said, shaking her head.
Shirou glanced into the mirror, and a wreck stared back.
His clothing was shredded to pieces. Underneath, ugly red scars constructed a mural into his skin, like the branches of an overgrown fern. Livid bruises dotted his flesh. To top it off, his face sported something like a black eye.
"Oh." He looked like hell.
"I only treated your most grievous injuries," Caster explained. "I didn't want to risk expending more energy than necessary."
"Could you heal me faster?" he asked.
"Not without endangering myself. I mean to treat you over a period of time, when I have recovered."
Shirou nodded, understanding her rationale. "Then, is there a way you can hide my wounds?" He couldn't let anyone see him like this.
"I can," she confirmed. "But must you truly leave?"
"I have to." He couldn't let Fuji-nee and Sakura worry about him. Especially not Sakura. He had promised her to be safe, and had already failed miserably at that.
"Such twisted priorities," Caster said. She brought out a length of string, then tied it around a small crystal. She gestured for him to come closer, and she fastened it around his neck.
He didn't feel any different, but when he peered into the mirror, he saw himself in pristine condition, as if he was completely healthy. Not a single wound was visible.
"Wow…" Shirou said.
Caster smiled. "That necklace is a Mystic Code. It acts as a glamour, substituting your appearance with a different one. It will also conceal your magical energy. With luck, enemy Servants won't be able to identify you during the day."
"You made that just now?" he asked, astonished.
"I didn't," she admitted. "But I expected you would want to leave, thick-skulled as you are." She rapped her knuckles on his forehead, causing him to scrunch his face up. "I prepared it when you were sleeping."
"This is amazing," Shirou said, ignoring the verbal barb. He never could have dreamed of creating something so useful. "Thank you so much."
"You'll be needing these too." She pointed to a bundle of cloth on the floor. There was a white shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers.
"Did you make these as well?"
Caster sniffed. "Please. I stole them from some resident's closet. Although…never mind," she trailed off.
Shirou waited for her to clarify. "Stealing is wrong," he said when she didn't.
Caster raised an eyebrow. "Not to judge, but are you truly comfortable going out like that?" Her eyes dropped to his ruined attire.
"...Right." He grabbed the clothes and went back into the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he peeled off his outfit and threw them in the trash, donning the stolen garments in their stead. They fit him like a glove.
He really hoped they didn't belong to Issei. Forgive me, Shirou thought preemptively. This is for the greater good. He would be sure to return them eventually.
Now, Shirou was at least presentable. He could go out in public without looking like a mess. Exiting the bathroom, he reentered the hall, where Caster was waiting for him.
"Remember, the enchantment will wear off in a day," she said. "Make sure to return before then. Once I have sufficiently recovered, I will create a better one. Perhaps even permanent."
"I'll be sure to," he said. "Thank you again. Stay safe, Caster."
She chuckled. "I should be saying the same to you."
Shirou waved goodbye, then began walking away. The second he stepped foot outside the temple gate, his body felt heavier, as if it had lost its support. Caster must have been assisting him.
Every movement sent jolts up his body. None of his exercises had ever rendered him so sore. He determined they would be a reminder of the imminent storm.
A secret war between magi. Superpowered beings from history. Innocent lives at stake. All based in Fuyuki. Now that Shirou knew, it was his duty to protect them.
The day after a storm was always the most serene. The temperature had warmed to a comfortable coolness. The grass was sodden, the pavement still wet. Puddles along the road reflected the cloudless sky, bright and clear.
As he made his way to the Emiya residence, Shirou mulled over the possibilities. Any Servant was out of his league. Was there a way he could close the gap?
Climbing the hill, Shirou stopped once he had reached the top of it. He released a lengthy, hollow sigh, suddenly wishing he had stayed with Caster.
Police cars surrounded his home, while men bearing shades and suits roamed the area, combing through nearby houses like detectives. The yakuza, out in broad daylight. Shirou could feel his head beginning to pound.
Why me? he groaned.
"Shirou!" a tiger roared at the top of her lungs.
Before he could say a word, he was tackled to the ground, and lanky arms wrapped around him, jostling all of his injuries simultaneously. He bit down a squawk of pain. He wasn't sure if wanted to laugh or cry.
"Good morning, Fuji-nee," Shirou said weakly. "I missed you too."
A/N: I hope everyone had a great Shirou day!