The air seemed different on campus. Walking in, Shirou saw nothing out of the ordinary. But when he closed his eyes, he pictured bloody membranes on the walls of the school, and the roaming students as soulless marionettes. It could be his imagination, but by now Shirou had learned to trust his instincts. Something was wrong. He would have to ask Caster.
Saturday classes ended early, but Issei had a laundry list of tasks for him to complete. By the time he had finished, the departing sun had begun to tint the hallways in melding reds, oranges, and yellows.
He had left the student council room when he saw Shinji in the hallway, surrounded by a group of girls. "You're still here?" Shinji asked.
"Just about to leave," Shirou said. He tried to walk around Shinji to little success.
"You really spent all that time helping out?" he said. Shinji yearned for attention in the same way a dog begged for scraps at a dinner table. "Helping out again? You know how I hate when you pretend to be a good kid. Guess it must be nice to have the school in your debt."
Shirou shook his head. "I don't help for a reward. I help because I can. You should try it sometime."
Shinji scoffed, ignoring the jab. "The school will be fine without you, just like how it was fine before you. But if you really want to help, I've got something for you.
Shirou was tempted to shoulder past him, but held himself back. "What is it?" he asked. To be Shinji's acquaintance was a part Shirou had to play. To contain the fury that burned like a great forge. His anger had not abated since he parted from Shinji in the temple. Shirou nurtured it, letting it smoulder over the passing days. And whenever he glimpsed Shinji in the schoolyard, the anger ignited. Sakura remained one of kindest people Shirou knew, yet Shinji treated her like pond scum. He was heartless.
"Great!" Shinji said, patting his shoulder. "Could you do me a favor and clean the archery dojo tonight? I got something else I need to do." He turned to the girls and waved.
It was Shinji's responsibility to clean it today, he guessed. Shirou didn't want to cover for him. But if the dojo was cleaned, Mitsuzuri would appreciate it, and Sakura and Fuji-nee too. So Shirou smeared a smile on his face and agreed.
The dojo was empty when he entered. Polished wooden paneling constructed the floor and walls, which opened to a field of ringed wooden targets. Some still had arrows embedded in them. He hoped Sakura and Mitsuzuri had hit their marks.
Mitsuzuri had always said that she wanted to fill the walls of the dojo with trophies and medals before she graduated. Unfortunately, high school archery competitions rarely had physical prizes. Only the most prestigious of tournaments offered proof of victory, and Homurahara wasn't talented enough to compete in those.
Shirou never minded. He preferred the simple functionality they had now; nothing was mere decoration. The hooks could hold bows, but they could also hold coats or backpacks. They didn't have chairs or tables simply because they were unneeded. It was everything an archery dojo should be.
The sky had darkened when he was done. The floor was spotless, the bows restringed, and the arrows collected. He left the dojo with a sense of satisfaction, ready to go home.
The clamor of metal collisions filled the air. Going around campus, he tried to locate the origin of the noise, following the sound as it got louder and closer.
He found a knight chasing after a masked man in black, both moving far faster than a human ever could. The knight sent the masked man scuttling through the air with a fist to the stomach. The masked man landed, then unsheathed his arm, releasing a massive cloth ribbon into the air.
It was then Shirou chose to run. Combat between two Servants was beyond him.
But as he fled, the arm pursued him like a piranha to blood. The Servant's black appendage skimmed down his chest a cold caress, and from it came a blinding carmine gleam. Sightless, he scurried through the dusty ground, putting distance behind him.
Less than a breath elapsed, and a cold, callused hand grasped deep inside him and squeezed. Something popped and his innards shattered in terrible pain and all locomotion was lost. He couldn't breathe. Spouting from his throat was blood instead of air. The coppery tang was the last thing Shirou tasted before he crumpled to the dirt, unable to muster the strength to stand.
Shirou's head was muzzy and throbbing. Blood crusted his chin, and his uniform was dyed a darker color, right where his heart was. His eyes were sandy. He rubbed them, but found no relief. His gut was spinning and he felt nauseous and weak.
The moon shone bright in the cloudless sky like a pearl before darkness. Originally, Shirou had been facedown in the dirt, but someone had flipped him on his back. He groggily recalled a muffled voice and a tinkling chime sound, as well as a sudden warmth. He had been saved.
The area around him was mute. His blood had seeped into the ground, leaving rusted patches in the earth. Someone would notice this, he recognized numbly. There was no timely method to clean a granular surface, especially without equipment, so he shuffled the dirt with his shoes, scattering the blemished particles across the ground, hidden amidst other grains of dirt. Why Shirou was so concerned with cleaning his own bloodstains, he could not say.
A crimson trilliant sparkled on the ground, affixed to a silver chain. Barely thinking, Shirou pocketed it. If the pendant had saved him, he would treasure it.
The trudge home was cold and quiet. Shirou clutched his chest with his fingers, suppressing the pangs that reverberated from his heart. His mouth was dry but for blood, and his legs were unsteady. Dizzying thoughts raced through his mind. He couldn't tell what had killed him, nor who had revived him.
The lights were shut off when he arrived. Fuji-nee and Sakura weren't there. Sakura had mentioned she couldn't help out today or tomorrow, and Fuji-nee would have gotten bored on her own. Likely for the best, Shirou thought. Away was safe. He entered the dining room and canted over the table, taking deep, cleansing breaths.
Twice now Shirou had seen two Servants fight. From Caster's class descriptions, the masked man fit the mantle of Assassin. The warrior had held a sword, which implied a Saber. That knowledge did not soften the dismay that permeated his body. He had been utterly outclassed, killed before he could do a single thing. They would be his future opponents, and he was not prepared.
Caster would know what to do. He had to find her. Why had he bothered coming home? He should have beelined for the temple.
"You are a magus," a voice said. Shirou spun, and came face-to-face with the masked man who had killed him. He loomed over Shirou like a giant spectre, the edges of his sable cloak flitting as if there was an indoor breeze.
Shirou recoiled back. Fear spiked his brain. There was no alarm bell; the Bounded Field had not been triggered. Assassin had slipped into his home as effortlessly as wind a forest.
Moving instinctively, Shirou leapt back, crashing through the glass window, sending fragments into the air. He landed on his back, now in the backyard. He activated his Magic Circuits and reinforced his limbs and clothing, anticipating the Servant's attack.
No attack came. Shirou spun his head, searching for the enemy Servant. There was only moonlight, and the shadows cast by it. Where was his enemy?
Above. Like the grim reaper himself, Assassin hunched atop Shirou's roof, his black cloak fluttering like windswept sand in the desert. The mask watched Shirou, but did not move. He turned away, as if listening to something. Shirou slowly backed away, gaze never leaving the shadowy figure. The best way to fight was not at all.
His hopes were dashed in an instant. "My Master has decided," Assassin announced. His voice was gravelly and wicked. Shirou tensed. "I shall be swift."
Shirou threw all caution to the wind. Knowing he could not escape, he charged to his shed. There he could find cover, and perhaps a chance to strike back. The instant he moved, he perceived a faint swish from behind him. He whipped his head back. Three daggers flew towards him. Two were aimed at his neck and heart, and another at his legs. They were too fast to dodge, so he crossed his arms before him. The blades sliced through his reinforced sleeves like paper, imparting long gashes into his forearms. The remaining blade sunk deep into his thigh. Pain erupted from his leg, and a howl escaped Shirou's throat. Blood splattered around him, staining the glimmering glass shards amidst the dirt. He stumbled and toppled over.
Assassin swooped from the ceiling like a sparrow in flight. Shirou hastily raised an arm and blocked Assassin's dagger with a projected knife of his own. Fiery sparks rained down. The strength behind Assassin's blow sent jolts up Shirou's shoulder. In his other hand, Shirou projected another sharpened knife and thrust forward, aiming for Assassin's neck. The Servant deflected it with ease, then unleashed a flurry of slashes and swipes.
Their combat became a steel clangor. Sparks burst like fireworks. Assassin only used one hand and dagger, but he was still quicker than Shirou. Even with reinforced senses, Shirou couldn't respond to every blow. Defending himself completely was impossible, so he focused on his vitals. The head, the heart, the neck, and the lungs. He could recover from anything else, and reinforcement minimized the damage.
But though his blades held true, the sheer force of Assassin's dagger leadened Shirou's arms. He breathed heavily. Like a melting candle, his strength waned with every exchange. The cuts were accumulating, the blood loss mounting. Soon he would lose the strength to raise his arms. At this tempo, he wouldn't last another thirty seconds.
He had to get away. But his stabbed leg wasn't responding, and Assassin wouldn't give him a chance to recover. Shirou needed to make his own opportunity.
A stab to the heart, barely deflected. Assassin's dagger grazed his shoulder. Another slash, right for the jugular. This time, Shirou was too slow. He couldn't parry it. But in the path of the dagger, Shirou projected several bags of flour mid-air. Even reinforced, Assassin's blade cut through them like cheese. White clouds of dust misted the air, covering them both in dry flour. With all his power, Shirou slammed his knife into Assassin's own, kindling a roar of sparks. Right into the flour.
It was more than enough. Spark weaved dust, and fire was born. The flame raced from particle to particle, igniting each and every mote, faster than a heartbeat.
The world exploded. For a single second, the night became day, so bright was the detonation. Even through his closed eyes, Shirou saw flashes of red and orange, loud as a thunderclap. The force of it scorched Shirou's exposed skin, but also launched him back, away from Assassin, right into the shed. He tumbled onto the stone floor, then rolled behind the wall, out of Assassin's sight.
Shirou had bought himself precious seconds. He couldn't waste them. His eyes fell to his stabbed leg. Blood gushed over blackened skin around the blade, but he did not feel any sensation at all. Poison, Shirou thought. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the dagger out, discarding one of his projected knives in exchange. Assassin's dagger was far more lethal, even in his weakening grip.
His heart hammered painfully in his chest. Sweat dripped down his neck, irritating burns and open wounds. He examined the shed, searching for something to save him. But the edges of his vision were blurring, muddling the outlines of all the objects. The poison was spreading, or he was dying.
Assassin glided into the shed. He had taken the blast point-blank, yet wasn't even singed. Shirou raised his weapons before him. The Servant whorled forth, spiralling towards him like a leaf in a storm. Shirou wouldn't survive the next assault. The unfairness of it all, he lamented, feeling the poison creep upward. All his training, and for what? Death, twice in one night.
A sudden fury pierced through his hazy thoughts. At once, the future became clear. If he died, there would be no one to save Sakura. No one to protect Caster. No one to stop the war. Unforgivable, Shirou thought. He had already died once tonight. He refused to die again.
Shirou honed his anger into a sword's edge. He lunged into Assassin's course, swinging his blade with reckless abandon. Even a cornered rat would resist encroaching claws, regardless of their might.
A single swing knocked both of Shirou's knives out of his hands, sapping all the energy he had. They clattered uselessly on the floor. Assassin's blade crept closer, nearing his unguarded neck. Shirou projected another weapon in his hand, but it was too late to deflect.
The blade was deflected nonetheless, and, at that moment, in a surge of blinding light, it was not Shirou who screamed, but Assassin. The source of his agony became apparent, from the trail of blood that led to where his severed hand now lay. Assassin fled, blood spilling in his wake. He disappeared from sight.
"I ask of you. Are you my Master?" a valiant voice asked.
Shirou turned around and his breath was stolen away. Before him stood a knight of legend. She was clad in silver armor that glinted. Underneath it was fine azure cloth that covered all the areas the armor could not. Lion fur decked her shoulders like a noble cape. Her gauntleted hand was flexed as if gripping something. Her flaxen hair was woven into plaits of hair that formed an ornate braided bun. Not a single strand was out of place, baring her moon-kissed skin. Her eyes were verdant forest basins, dignified and imposing.
She was undoubtedly a Servant. Mana emanated from her, in the same way as every other Servant he had encountered. She shifted her head, waiting for him to answer.
"I am," Shirou said, remembering his tongue. They were the only words he could think to say.
She nodded. "From this time forth, my sword shall be with you and your fate shall be with me. Now, our contract is complete." Her eyes widened. "Master, your leg."
His leg was totally black now, and the color had reached his hip. Lancer crouched down. She pressed a covered finger into his thigh wound, which came back covered in black. "A terrible poison."
"It's from Assassin's dagger," he explained.
Lancer's lips turned downward. "I lack the skill to cure you. If the poison festers further, you will die. There is only one way to save you."
Shirou understood the implication. He forced a grin, but it came out a rictus. "Do what you have to do. If that means amputation, go ahead. Rather a leg than a life," he grunted.
Lancer's brow lowered, and her expression tightened. "You are braver than most."
She raised her gauntlet. Shirou braced himself with all the resolve he had, but found solid dread. He didn't want to lose his leg. It terrified him, rattled him like a tin can. Yet there was little else he could do. He tried to calm his trembling and closed his eyes, not willing to see the gore before him.
"It's healing," Lancer gasped. Shirou opened his eyes cautiously. Complexion had returned to his tainted leg, the black poison receding. Sensation, aching yet welcome, returned like an ocean's tide. Around him, the rest of his wounds were knitting together. Leaking cuts sealed shut, and burns faded away. A mass of relief filled him. Shirou had imagined himself crippled for life, yet his body did not even bear a scab when the healing had finished.
Lancer smiled. Dazzled, Shirou couldn't look away. "Wonderful," she said. "Master, you did not mention you had restorative abilities."
"I don't. I don't know what just happened," he confessed. He briefly thought of Caster, but she had taken weeks to mend his prior injuries. Whatever had healed him was far more potent. "You don't have to call me Master. I'd prefer Shirou."
"Then I shall call you Shirou. I like the sound of that much better, Shirou." The way Lancer's lips parted and curved when she spoke his name sent his heart aflutter. She was the third beautiful woman to use his first name recently. Though embarrassing, Shirou was beginning to think he would never tire of it.
She offered him a hand and he took it. She pulled him to his feet. "I fight by your side."
They exited the shed and stopped. All of Shirou's dread resurfaced.
Half of his home was an inferno. Flames licked the wooden walls, spitting ashes through the air. A thick column of smoke rose to the sky. Clay roof tiles crashed to the ground and fractured into pieces. The sharp crackling of the wood pained Shirou's ears.
It was started by the flour explosion, he realized. The blast radius was gargantuan, yet collateral damage had completely slipped Shirou's mind. The shed, made from brick and ceramic, could not catch fire, which had left him unaware.
Most of his home was still there; the fire could still be contained. But he knew how fast flames could spread. If he did not act soon, the conflagration would consume the rest of the structure.
Not again, he pleaded. He sprinted to the garden hose, but Lancer stopped him.
"Allow me," she said, and from her hand came a great gust of wind that devoured the flames on the dojo. She repeated the action, loosing torrents of concentrated air on deliberate portions of his abode. She was careful not to feed the blaze, but erase it. Soon, the fire was totally extinguished, save for some tiny embers, but the damage had been done.
From what Shirou could see, the living room was relatively untouched, as was his own room. Both were on the opposite end of the mansion, away from the brunt of the flames. Most of the closets and storage rooms were spared as well. But the western-style guest rooms became ashes, and many of the remaining guest rooms were now open to the elements. Nearly all the flora were gone too. He would have to scope out the remaining damage later.
"Thank you," he said slowly to Lancer. He felt hollow.
"Home is irreplaceable to all," she replied. "I regret I could not save more."
Shirou shook his head. "You saved my life and now my home. I can't thank you enough."
He felt a sudden pain erupt in his left hand. He raised it, and found three red marks painted on it. His Command Seals.
"So this is what they look like," he said, adjusting his hand to different angles.
"Should you not have seen them before?" Lancer asked curiously.
"I didn't mean to summon you," he admitted, causing Lancer to frown. Shirou corrected himself. "I mean, I'm glad I summoned you, but I didn't mean to summon anyone. I didn't even know I was a Master until now. I've never even seen Command Seals before."
Lancer traced a finger down her arm. "That would explain many of the irregularities I feel." She paused, then turned to face the wall. "One moment. Another Master and Servant approach. I shall eliminate them at once."
She leapt over the wall. Someone screamed a word. "FATHER!" And the sound of steel clashing echoed through the night. Alarmed, Shirou ran to the gate.
Lancer was dueling another knight, who wore silver and red. The knight roared with every slash of her sword. Her blows increased in ferocity, yet no matter how fast she swung her sword, Lancer was able to stop her. Crimson blurs shrieked fiery sparks against nothing, inducing shockwaves that tore the air, whipping Shirou with wind.
The fight continued. They were evenly matched, yet Lancer was calm while her opponent was anything but. With a resounding thrust, Lancer pushed the knight away. Sabatons scraped the concrete.
"Saber. Lay down your sword. We both know how this ends," Lancer said.
"Shut your damn mouth!" Saber screamed.
Lancer's eyes were dark with rue. "My lance has slain you once before. Must I strike you down once more?"
Every word she said provoked Saber more. "Stop looking down on me!"
"So be it," Lancer said grimly. "A pity."
Saber's rage became primordial. The warrior screamed, swinging to kill with all her strength. She cleaved through the ground, shattering the road and sundering the walls with escalating power.
But her anger only gave Lancer the upper hand. She seemed to know exactly how Saber would attack, and subsequently controlled the cadence of the battle. Any blow Lancer could not dodge, she deflected. Saber was not nearly as successful in countering Lancer's repostes, her armor chipped where Lancer bypassed her guard. The damage was minor, yet accumulating. Saber would have stood a far better chance had her rage not fully controlled her, Shirou thought.
"Saber!" someone screamed. Shirou focused past the combat and saw Rin, her face wan and pinched.
With a sudden sweep of her leg, Lancer sent Saber crashing to the ground. Saber shot to her feet, but Lancer was faster. No more than a blur, Lancer charged forward, invisible lance aimed at Saber's chest.
Shirou did not care if Saber died; after all, Lancer was defending herself. And with lethal force came lethal retribution. But Lancer meant to eliminate both Servant and Master. The moment Saber died, Rin would be next.
"Lancer, stop!" he screamed desperately, hoping his voice would convey. A red light burst from his left hand, and Lancer stilled. A small hole bore through Saber's armor.
"Shirou, why?" Lancer questioned, struggling against the order's might. Shirou was shocked. He had not meant to invoke a Command Seal.
Saber came to a halt. She froze, then turned to Shirou, stomping towards him. Her fury was palpable.
"How dare you command the king?" she snarled. "I'll kill you!"
Her blade came soaring for his neck, but was stopped by Lancer's weapon, who was about Shirou in a trice. Saber swung again, and Lancer blocked her again. "Damn it! This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Saber howled.
"Enough, Saber!" Rin commanded from behind her.
Saber stopped, then turned around. Her helmet betrayed nothing. "You too, Rin?" she breathed.
"Will you disobey your Master again?" Lancer challenged.
Bristling, Saber slammed her fist into the wall surrounding Shirou's home, leaving a web of cracks. "To hell with all of you!"
And then she vanished, leaving Rin to walk carefully towards them. She stared at Shirou, stunned. She glanced at his hand, then at Lancer. Her face held a look of consternation. She was quiet when she spoke. "You really were a magus. And now a Master, too?"
"Rin?" he said hesitantly.
She smoothed her shock away. "Good evening. I didn't realize you were a magus, Shirou."
"I, I could say the same." Everything was happening too fast for Shirou to process.
Rin walked through the gate. "I suppose you have many questions and I have many things I'd like to tell you. Let us talk inside."
The entrance to his home was on the other side of the fire, so it was still pristine. Even the lights were working properly. The living room was in the same condition, which is where Rin stopped. Shirou and Lancer followed behind her.
"Wow, it's pretty spacious. I am not used to this Japanese style," she said, peeking around. "It's so cold! The windows are all broken."
"That's my fault," Shirou said. "Assassin attacked me, and the window was the easiest way out."
Rin turned to him. "You fought him alone until you summoned Lancer?"
"Not really a fight. I barely survived."
"I appreciate your humility, but it is still impressive to survive on your own. I shall repair your window." She recited some words that he did not understand. The broken glass reformed into its original shape. "Consider it a repayment for using a Command Seal. Of course, I understand that this is trivial for another magus, but I believe it to be a start," she said, formal and neutral.
"That's amazing," he said. "There's no way I could do that."
Rin's eyebrows rose. "Seriously? Repairing glass is one of the first things they teach you."
"I didn't know that was possible," he said.
"You really are an amateur, aren't you?" she sighed. "Well, to continue, I am sure you are confused about what you have been dragged into. I shall explain the Holy Grail War to you."
"No, That would be unnecessary. I know of the Grail War," he said.
Rin's jaw locked. "You know of the Grail War? But then that doesn't make sense! Why would you waste a Command Seal like that?"
"I couldn't let you get hurt," he said. "And I didn't intend to use it. It sort of just happened."
Rin was silent for a moment, and then her features softened with a rosy tint. "O-oh. Well. Don't do that again. Command Seals are valuable, and I can take care of myself."
Just like that, the tension evaporated. Shirou felt oddly comforted by her befuddlement. When she spoke to him as a magus, she sounded like a different person. This was the Rin he knew. "I think it was worth it."
"It shouldn't have been!" Rin retorted.
Shirou didn't understand. "If I had to, I'd use all three. Your life is more important to me than a mark on my hand. Isn't that obvious?"
She shook her head, feigning anger, but Shirou could tell she was happy by the way she struggled to steady her lips. "You don't understand," she said, dodging the question. "If you consume all three, you lose all control over your Servant. At that point, they could strike you down without reservation."
Lancer inserted herself into the conversation. "I will not betray Shirou, nor do I plan to do so in the future."
He gestured towards her. "See?" he said. That was enough for him.
Rin palmed her face. "She could be lying. Not that I think she is, but you don't know anything about her."
"I trust Lancer," he said. She had saved his life and vowed to be his sword. It was already a beautiful memory. Nearly worth getting killed for. "Would you not use a Command Seal for me?"
"That-" Her voice fell to a hush. She turned away. "Maybe."
Shirou smiled. "Then what's the problem? We're in agreement."
Rin's lips creased, her cheeks redder. "Shut up! The Grail War is a serious thing. Ugh, if you knew about all this, why didn't you summon a Servant beforehand?"
Shirou shrugged. "I never meant to be a Master. Assassin was coming to kill me, but then I accidentally summoned Lancer, and she saved me."
"You summoned her… accidently? Just like that?" Rin questioned.
He said he did.
Rin groaned with asperity. She cupped her face in her hands. "I spent weeks preparing the ritual and some amateur just summoned a Servant out of pure luck!" She turned to Lancer. "You aren't in full form, right?"
Lancer spoke up. "Indeed. I cannot enter spirit form, and I am receiving no magical energy from Shirou. My class, too, is unexpected. I did not think it possible to be summoned as a Lancer." She peered down at her gauntleted hands in consideration. "It's different."
Rin's eyes widened. "I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to be so honest with me. Weaknesses are meant to be hidden."
"I do not believe I could hide my state for long. And Shirou trusts you, so I will trust in his judgement. After all, he even used a Command Seal to protect you," Lancer said amusedly.
"He wasted it. I could've protected her easily," a new voice said. Saber materialized at Rin's side, but without her helmet donned. She was the spitting image of Lancer, only younger. Her face was thinner and smaller, and her hair was styled in a spiky ponytail where Lancer had round braids, adding an unruly edge to her features. But she had the deep green eyes and golden hair as Lancer. They shared the same facial structure, nose and ears and the curve of lips and cheeks matched perfectly, though separated by age. Saber was beautiful, but in a different way than Lancer. Shirou could believe they were kin.
"Saber," Rin warned.
She ignored Rin, voice hard in pitch. "Father. You want to know the real reason why you were summoned as a Lancer? Because Saber's the best class, and even the Grail knows which of us is superior."
Lancer stiffened, armor shifting. She narrowed her gaze.
"Saber. Stand down." Rin said. "We aren't here to start another fight."
"I know," Saber growled. She turned to Shirou with a scornful glare. "He ruined it."
She skulked outside in silence. Rin exhaled deeply, watching her leave. "We should get going."
Shirou checked the clock. It was already one in the morning. "Will you be safe this late at night?"
"You're coming with us," she said casually. "It's time you saw the overseer of the war."
"Can it wait until tomorrow?"
"No. He'll tell you all the rules and your rights as Master. He'll also register you so he can support you if you drop out."
It still sounded unnecessary to him. "Lancer, what do you think?"
"I agree with Rin," the Servant responded. "But I will follow any decision you make, Shirou."
With Lancer's trust, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. "So, where is this place? It's a place we can come back from, right?" he asked Rin.
"Of course. We're heading to Kotomine Church. It's in the neighboring town, so we can return by dawn if we hurry. Besides, tomorrow is Sunday, so we can stay up late." Her eyes fell to his torso and she wrinkled her nose. "You should probably get changed too."
Shirou lowered his gaze and sucked in a breath. His attire resembled a zombie costume in the movies. His uniform was in mottled bloody tatters, and the skin underneath was crusted with dried blood. If people saw him like this, they would call the police.
"I see what you mean," he said, before making his way to his room. The hallway to his destination was partly seared, covered in soot. He tread around the burnt edges, wincing at how the wood crumbled into dust when he stepped on it, then entered his room.
He peeled it off, then wiped the more noticeable stains from his body off with a dry towel. He didn't have a spare uniform, so he put on a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans. He suddenly realized that
Now that he was alone, Shirou felt all his fatigue return. His eyelids drooped down, and his body yearned for rest. His futon never seemed more inviting. Shirou groaned, then walked back to the living room. Rin and Lancer were waiting for him.
They left the Emiya residence, where Saber was waiting outside. The town was quiet. None of the surrounding houses had any lights on, leaving streetlamps to be their only source of illumination as they walked to the church. Saber and Lancer were silent, the tension between them barbed.
"Shirou, I'm curious," Rin started. "Magi can detect other magi. But I've never even sensed any magical energy from you. Now I can. What happened?"
"Oh, I only activated my Magic Circuits recently." Shirou explained to her how he had been ambushed in the night all those months ago, and how he slowly comprehended the hypnosis placed upon him, as well as how he had broken it, and how he had discovered his Magic Circuits.
"I'm still on the lookout for that magus, but I suppose I have bigger problems now," he said. When he was done, Rin was disbelieving.
"You've got to be kidding," she muttered.
"What do you mean?"
Rin sighed, almost defeated. "It's nothing. Just… so, so stupid. An absurd sequence of events."
"I don't think it's that bad," he objected.
"Are you serious? Breaking through a hypnosis like that is…" Rin shook her head disdainfully. "And with Nerve Circuits too."
"It was only possible because of the hypnosis. I don't think the magus was particularly skilled at it."
"Oh. I see." Her voice gained an edge. "What makes you say that?"
"The hypnosis only lasted a week. And if a novice like me could discern it, the one who casted it must not have been very good," he elaborated.
Rin did not respond, but seemed very sullen.
They crossed the bridge to Shinto. The river cascaded underneath them, the dividing line between the two cities of Fuyuki. Saber stopped to study the rushing water. Her hair danced in the breeze like golden threads. It was peaceful, until she noticed him watching her. "What are you looking at?" she snarled.
Shirou walked past her, not willing to articulate his thoughts.
A gauntleted hand pressed his shoulder. "Don't ignore me," Saber said.
He tried to brush her off, but her grip was like a vice. Shirou glared at her, his filter thinned by fatigue. "You don't want to talk to me, and I don't want to talk to you. Drop it."
"Saber," Rin said wearily. "We have things to do."
"Fine," she said, then shoved him away. Shirou stumbled forward until he was stopped by Lancer. Saber stuck her tongue out, taunting them. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Saber didn't fit his idea of a Servant at all. She was supposed to be an epic hero, yet she was more like a bundle of obstinacy and immaturity. At least Rin was her Master. That mades things much better. He was grateful for that, and said as much aloud.
"Huh?" she said.
"I'm grateful that you're a Master," he repeated. "And not anyone else."
Rin sniffed. "You should be. Another Master wouldn't have been so kind tonight."
"I know," he agreed. "You're the greatest ally I could have."
"W-what? Who said we were allies?" she sputtered. But she didn't deny his words. Rin was so sweet, he realized. Behind the cold exterior was someone who flustered very easily, in a very cute way.
"You know there can only be one winner, right? We can't both win the war." Rin said. "I won't spare anyone," she added.
He nodded. "When the time comes, I'm sure we'll figure something out. But you're my friend, and I can't see myself fighting you."
Rin glared at him with embarrassed furor, then spun around, marching away. "You're such an idiot." From beside her, Saber looked at him with suspicion.
Maybe Shirou was being an idiot. With Atrum, he had seen the lengths magi could go in pursuit of the Grail. But having Rin by his side gave him solace. She was a good person. He couldn't imagine her betraying him.
From the bridge, their covey walked through old roads in the suburbs until they came to the top of the hill. He had never been to a church before, and this one exceeded all his expectations.
Curated hedges flanked the stone road that led to the church. A mix of trees, some barren and some evergreen, were planted between the hedges and the building. The church itself wasn't large, but the architecture was imposing, with the structure spanning upward to a spire that bore a cross at its peak. The walls were old, with marks that showed their age. Multicolored lights could be seen from behind the stained glass windows.
"Shirou. I shall remain here," Lancer announced.
"Why? I can't leave you here." They had come all this way together. It felt wrong to leave her outside.
"I'm not here for the church. I followed to protect you," she said clearly. "I will await your return."
"All right," he said. "I'll be leaving then."
"Saber, you're coming with me," Rin said. "Stay in spirit form until we leave."
They were greeted by a gray stone statue of the Virgin Mary in the vestibule. Her hands were clasped together in solemn prayer. Behind her were the doors to the church, massive oaken shapes that could fit someone twice Shirou's height. Rin creaked them open with an irreverent jerk on their hinges.
The nave of the church opened to rows of ebony pews, infixed on white oak, separated by narrow aisles. Before them, the chancel was elevated to an ankle's height, built with cherry wood. In the center, a freestanding altar was flanked by four offertory tables draped in white cloth. One sported a potted plant that Shirou could not name. The walls were plastered white and high, curving inward to a domed ceiling. Various banners, emblems, and paintings betrimmed them, all depicting religious iconography. Gothic archways hollowed either side, leading to darkness his eyes could not penetrate.
A footstep. A man emerged from the other side of the altar. He was even taller than Lancer. His muddy brown hair was curled and unkempt, with parted bangs that reached his eyelashes. He wore navy blue priest robes over black. He moved with assured steps toward them.
"Quite strange to see you this late at night. Is the boy the seventh?" he asked Rin.
"He is. I brought him here to learn the rules," she answered.
"Good," he said, turning towards Shirou. The priest was not hostile, yet the air around him felt heavy. "I am Kirei Kotomine, the one entrusted with this church. What is your name, seventh master?"
"Shirou Emiya," he said.
Kotomine paused. "Shirou. Emiya." he repeated, then slowly smiled as if he heard something pleasant. "The Master of Lancer, I presume?"
Shirou confirmed it.
"I see." Kotomine nodded. "I must admit, I am surprised. For weeks, Rin was adamant you were not a magus, and had even assaulted you to prove it, yet here you stand before me. God truly works in mysterious ways."
Shirou froze. "What?" he whispered. Rin sucked in a breath from behind him.
"Oh? You did not tell him? My apologies, Rin. I thought he knew of how you investigated him," Kotomine said with regret. "I had believed you had made amends with him. This was my mistake."
"Rin, what's he talking about? Rin?" Shirou demanded. She did not respond. He spun to see her.
Her face had blanched. Her eyes were circles, her mouth gaping, yet unmoving, and her posture was stiff. She was shocked. Shocked, and guilty. And Shirou understood that everything Kotomine said was true. The magus was Rin. Rin was the one who had attacked him.
He could still remember the icy needles piercing him, the helplessness as the curse ravaged his body, and the cold fingers curled around his neck. "He's lying, right?" he asked desperately. "It couldn't have been you." In all his suppositions, he had never once considered Rin.
She said nothing. He stepped towards her, and she reeled back.
"Rin, why?" His voice vibrated like a blade of grass. He felt a great cold inundate him. The world dimmed. "Why?"
Her face contorted, and her hands formed fists as hard as flint. "Your father killed mine!" she shrieked, like rolling thunder. "This is what it means to be in a Grail War. To fight and kill! If you get in my way, I'll, I'l-"
Kotomine stepped between them. "Rin, he does not know."
"What are you saying?" Shirou questioned, as everything spun on its head. He was so lost, drowning in an ocean of knowledge he never wanted to know. "Kiritsugu killed your father?"
Before Tohsaka could respond, Kotomine spoke first. "Do you know who your father was, Shirou Emiya?"
"Kiritsugu was a magus," he said.
Rin sneered bitterly. "He was a murderer."
Kotomine sighed. "The sins of the father shan't be upheld by the son. Rin, allow me to explain." He met Shirou's eyes. "Your father was a professional assassin. He could be described as a murderer. It would be fitting, but I think of him as a machine. He was precise, brutal, and cruel. Once the decision was made, he killed without hesitation."
"Did you know him?"
"I did. At first, I only heard the rumors. Whispers of an unstoppable assassin, the one who could kill anyone. I did not believe them," he chuckled sorrowfully. "They were astonishing, really. I've encountered many a magus in all my years as an Enforcer, many of whom outshone your father, whether it be in bloodline, achievement, or merit. Yet of those magi, your father was the only one to earn a sobriquet. Do you know how rare that is? The one called Kaleidoscope is a magus Rin seeks. Crown is renowned in the Burial Agency. Both are Dead Apostle Ancestors. Yet somehow, a mere mortal man became known as the Magus Killer? I scoffed at it.
"And then, ten years ago, I lost to him in the last Holy Grail War. Kiritsugu Emiya, the Einzbern representative, the final victor. He truly was unstoppable. He used the enemy's family as a shield and their friends as their shackles. He killed a Servant, let his Master beg while crawling on the floor, and shot him in the head. He showed no emotion. Neither the supremacy of his strength nor guilt in killing the weak or innocent. All for the Holy Grail."
"Why?" Shirou asked numbly.
"Peace. He dreamed of a world of no violence. He wanted everyone to smile. So he killed to save. If one sacrifice was needed to save ten, he would murder the sacrifice without a second thought. He was a saint beyond help. He lived for his ideal. He pursued his ideal until the moment he destroyed the Holy Grail. Quite the contradiction, would you not agree?"
Shirou could not answer. His mind was faltering. Kiritsugu, his father. Kiritsugu, the Magus Killer. Kiritsugu, the man who wished to become a hero. How could they coexist?
Kiritsugu's smile had left an indelible mark in Shirou's memory. A smile of pure, utter joy, as if Kiritsugu had been the one saved that day. No machine could ever have that smile. But if Kotomine was to be believed, his father had slaughtered innocent people in pursuit of utopia.
"Do you understand now?" Rin questioned. Her hand pointed towards him, laced with magical energy that crystallized in a black sphere. "We are enemies. Just as our fathers were."
Kotomine smacked her hand down, dispersing the curse and causing her to yelp. "I shall not allow bloodshed on holy ground. Settle your disputes outside."
Shirou exited the church without looking back. The area surrounding the pavement was a dense forest, thickly treed. Their leaves rustled gently. The night was inert in the creeping winter. Any birds or insects or rodents would be sleeping at this time.
He was an empty shell, so tired he was. He moved listlessly to Lancer's side in silence, sick at heart and alone in mind. His head was pounding, and his stomach was knotted. The foundation of his life had been a lie. No, Shirou scolded himself. It wasn't a lie. Hadn't Kiritsugu warned him, the day he died? Saving one life means not saving another. He had promised Kiritsugu to be a hero in his stead, yet now he did not know if he could follow the same path.
Rin was across from him, as stone-faced as the statue behind them. Shirou did not wish to talk to her any longer. He wanted to go home and reflect on all that had transpired tonight. But she wouldn't let him go that easily.
"This is it, Emiya. Your war ends tonight," Rin said. Saber had her helmet donned and sword before them.
"I don't want to fight you," he said. Lancer readied her invisible weapon.
"Weren't you paying attention? We're enemies now," she spat. "And if you don't act like it, it will end here and now."
"Please," he whispered. "All that time we spent together, did it not mean anything to you? Was it all a lie?"
Rin gritted her teeth, and her body trembled. No one moved. It all hinged on her next command. If Rin chose to fight, they would fight. Shirou prayed she would make the right decision.
Outside the church were knight against knight, student against student, frozen in place in an odd tableau. Lancer was the one to break it. With a sudden shout, she dragged Shirou behind her, turning to the side.
Swiftly, the gleaming arrow whistled through the sky, and all descended into chaos.