Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say I wasn’t interested in magic would be a lie.

It wasn’t like I had a bad life; I had loving parents, caring housekeepers, and a… wonderful onii-chan. I lived in a normal house, got good grades in school, and made some very good friends. I had everything a girl my age could want, and I was content with that. Even so, I couldn’t help but wish for something more glamorous.

I always loved watching Mahou Shoujo anime. I loved how young girls – ordinary girls just like I was – could perform magic, could save the world like the heroes they were, and could shine so brightly even though they were normal, everyday children. I remember wishing that someday, maybe, I could be like them and fly around with glittery magic and colorful costumes.

… At least, that was what I used to wish, until a talking magical stick changed my life. In a bad way. No, seriously; during our first encounter, it (she?) made me have a nosebleed from seeing onii-chan’s-

M-my point was, I knew shortly after that day that magic was not something so cheerful and pretty. I understood that the world of magic – the world of magi – was not a place for ordinary girls like me. I found out in the battles that followed, that I had to put my life on the line in being a magical girl of justice.

But I never expected the world to be even more messed up than that.

In comparison, my life was probably a joke. In comparison, my battles were probably a farce. To her, my entire existence must have been a sin – a blatant denial of her own experiences.

Maybe that was why she tried to kill me.

You’d think I’d be used to that, what with Kuro and all, but I was not; unlike Kuro, she did not make me feel guilty whenever I looked at her. Unlike Kuro, she did not look angry at me, or at the world. In fact, she just looked… broken.

I used to admire magic. I used to admire heroes. I used to admire a life more exciting than my own, mundane one. I used to think that maybe somewhere, in an alternate universe, there existed a me that had all those wishes granted.

But little did I know, that the other ‘me’ would try to kill me with a big, hulking giant wielding an axe sword.

-

Illyasviel von Einzbern woke to the sight of a horribly mortified girl.

She had black hair, beautiful eyes, and the air of a cool beauty. She was Miyu Edelfelt, and her face had apparently swollen to four times its usual size. Or maybe it just looked large, because their faces were far too close for comfort.

“U-um, Illya,” she said timidly. “I-I think it’s a little too early for k-kissing…”

Young girl or no, Illya had impressive lung capacity – an endowment she showed off in full by screaming Miyu’s ear off. Scurrying away like a terrified mouse, she tumbled off her bed, slamming the back of her head onto the floor.

“Illya!” Despite what just transpired, Miyu seemed hardly unfazed, instead switching to an expression of worry. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Illya had already kissed her once before. “Are you alright?”

“Geez, can’t you two keep it down in the morning?” an irritated voice asked.

Chloe von Einzbern – or ‘Kuro’ as they called her – walked into the room, already dressed in her school uniform. In terms of appearances alone, she was a perfect mirror image of Illya, except she had tanned skin. In terms of personality, however, she could not be more different from her ‘little sister’.

“And Illya,” she went on, smirking as she looked at her twin. “Isn’t it about time you learned to get up on your own? Don’t make Miyu babysit you all the time.”

“I-I’m perfectly capable of getting up by myself!” Illya retorted, with surprising energy considering she was the only person in the room still wearing her pajamas. “Miyu just happened to be early, that’s all!”

“Actually, Illya,” Miyu corrected calmly. “We’re going to be late at this rate.”

Illya’s head spun so fast she was surprised it stayed attached to her neck. The clock read-

“EEEEEHH?!”

-

Emiya Shirou was known by many names. At one point in his life, ‘Hero of Justice’ had been one of them. At that point, however, it also happened to be synonymous with ‘Villain’; despite being the savior of millions of lives and the protector of humanity, he was ultimately despised by the very humans he protected. In the end, he was betrayed by the world, and died a pathetic death.

How did everything turn out this way?

He had never sought recognition. To him, helping others was more than enough; to desire anything in return was a betrayal to his ideals. He had never hoped to be repaid, and he had dedicated his life to saving those in need. And yet, despite that selflessness, he had failed to become a true ‘hero’.

There was no escape from this Hell. There was no escape from the mountains of corpses he had to create with his own hands. There was no escape from the oceans of blood he had spilled in his quest for justice. There was no escape, so he had to seek another solution.

And so, he decided to kill his past.

To erase his own existence, so that he would never become a hero. That was the sole goal of the man known as Emiya Shirou, and it was for this very reason that he once again lifted his bow. Perhaps, he thought, this would be the last time he would have to see bloodshed. But then again, if it was his own blood he was shedding, it was probably alright.

His eyes burning with steel-cold resolve, the Servant Archer stepped into the fifth Holy Grail War. Only this time, something was… different.

-

“Ugh… Taiga’s really merciless today…”

Grumbling as she swept the courtyard, Illya sighed heavily. As punishment for being late, she, Miyu (who was late because she was waiting for her) and Kuro (who was late because she was arguing with Illya for too long) were told to sweep the school grounds after school. It might have been a piece of cake since there were three of them, but the school grounds, as it turned out, were huge.

“It’s never getting done today…” she whined.

“Now, now, don’t say that, Illya-san!” a strange object said merrily, popping out from inside her hair. As usual, Magical Stick Ruby-chan was energetic to match even Taiga, and that was saying a lot. “Occasional exercise is good for your health, you know?”

“This isn’t exercise,” Illya pointed out. “Besides, we fought the Class Cards; that’s enough exercise to last two lifetimes. I’d rather be home reading manga or watching anime…”

“Sounds like something a NEET would say,” Kuro teased.

“I’m not even going to play along,” Illya sighed. “I’m too tired to even argue anymore-”

“On your guard, Illya-san!” Ruby said suddenly. “An enemy’s approaching!”

“Eh?! An enemy?!” Illya asked in panic, unable to follow the turn of events.

“Yes!” Ruby replied. “It’s a powerful one, too! It’s a vengeful spirit of pure hate and terrible fashion sense-”

It took exactly one tenth of a second for Ruby to fly across the yard and slam into a wall. For a moment, Kuro and Miyu readied themselves for battle, only to relax a moment later when they identified this ‘foe’.

A disgruntled look on her face, Tohsaka Rin took a second to regain her refined aura as she turned to look at the group. Except for when it came to Ruby and a certain blonde with oversized tendrils, she was a dignified heir to the Tohsaka lineage, and was by every definition a skilled magus. It was only natural for such a woman to have this much pride, and it went without saying that she tried to keep a prim and proper appearance in public. Whenever she was not going around throwing Ruby like a Frisbee or stomping on it to relieve stress, that is.

“Eh? Rin-san?” Illya, the slowest on the uptake, asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Something came up,” Rin replied simply. “I needed your help, but you weren’t at home, so I came over here. Luvia and Bazett be here shortly, too, so-”

“Ah, what’s this, Rin-san?” Ruby asked. For a talking ring with wings and a star, it was surprisingly good at expressing mirth. “Relying on little children at your age? I guess you really are a helpless old hag-”

For the second time in less than a minute, Ruby flew across the courtyard and left a dent in the wall.

“Back on topic,” Rin said, acting as though nothing had happened. “You remember that eighth card we discovered a while back? We’ve found similar anomalies around the town after that, and we were thinking of investigating them one by one. But to do that, the power of the Kaleid Sticks are required. So with that in mind…”

She trailed off, having seen no need to explain further. Even Illya, the slowest of the three, would have known what she was getting at by now.

“Understood,” Miyu replied. “But should it be a powerful Heroic Spirit, how will we engage it? The cards we have at our disposal are severely lacking in power.”

“There’s no need to worry about that,” Rin said, holding up three cards. “I have the remaining ones here. We’ve managed to talk Bazett into ‘loaning’ us these cards until we figure out what’s going on. It’s not an indefinite deadline, but for now it’s a blessing.”

“So, where’re we headed?” Kuro asked. “You know the location, don’t you?”

“Yes, indeed,” Rin replied, pointing to the ground beneath her feet. “And it’s right where you’re standing.”

“Eh?” all three girls asked at the same time.”

“I don’t know why, but one of the anomalies is right where your school is,” Rin explained. “It’s not as big as the one caused by the eighth card, so I don’t know if it’s a Class Card at all, but it’s probably less dangerous if that’s the case. It’ll be a good place to start.”

“Well then, what’re we waiting for?!” Ruby chimed happily. “Let’s finish this flashily and quickly so we don’t have to bother with this boring sweep- I mean, so we can get some exercise for a change!”

“You just called it ‘boring’ didn’t you?!” Illya exclaimed. “You were saying something about sweeping being exercise, weren’t you?! Weren’t you?!”

“Well, don’t sweat the small details!” Ruby chirped, extending its handle and placing itself in Illya’s grip. “Let’s transform and go fight evil!”

“Wait a minu-”

Rin’s complaints fell on deaf ears, as Ruby started glowing. A huge magic circle appeared beneath them, and a blinding light surrounded Illya, leaving a bright pink costume as it faded. The magic circle started giving off a light of its own, enveloping everyone who stood on top of it.

“Jump!” Ruby said, almost cheekily.

As light filled her vision and obscured everything else, Illya felt a strange sensation in her body. It was as though all the air around her had been replaced with a vacuum, and a huge hand was trying to crush her body with its iron grip; something was going horribly wrong, and she could neither escape nor change the situation at hand. All she could do was to let it unfold, and let the warmth from the light swallow her, engulfing her in its otherworldly glow…

The last thing she remembered, was Miyu’s helpless scream.

-

When she finally awoke, night had fallen. The sun was down, and a tranquil sheet of black inky night had been drawn over the sky. The stars glittered across the black canvas, and the moon cast a soothing glow upon the Earth. It would have been quite the sight to behold, if not for the fact that Illya had no idea where she was.

For one, she was definitely not in school; rather, she was sitting in some random street, accompanied by no one and nothing but streetlamps on the sidewalk. Ruby was gone, and she was back in her school uniform.

“Ruby…?” she asked weakly. “Miyu? Kuro? Rin-san? Where are you? If this is some sort of weird joke, it’s not funny…”

The empty street yielded her no replies, no answers. The silence did nothing more than to amplify the sounds of her heart pounding against her ribcage, and emphasize just how alone she was.

“Hmm? What do we have here?”

Cutting sharply into her thoughts was her own voice, which would not have meant much except that her mouth had not moved. She had not said a thing, and yet Illya was sure she had just heard her own voice in her ears.

Turning around, she came face-to-face with… herself. She’d have believed it to be some sort of hallucination, but reality was not that kind.

She was dressed in a purple coat with a matching hat, both made of warm, fuzzy material made for winter. A pair of expensive-looking boots completed the look, but that was not what attracted Illya’s attention. What attracted her attention was the girl’s porcelain-white skin and bright, crimson eyes. She was different from Kuro, who had tanned skin and different eye color.

She was the exact image of Illyasviel von Einzbern.

“Who are you?” the girl said in Illya’s voice. Even though it had sounded so similar, it was oddly callous and felt completely different from her usual tone. “It’s pretty daring to try and look like me. Trying to attack me mentally like that won’t work, you know.”

Her brain hardly even working at this point, Illya just stared at her counterpart, who was wearing a small smile which could only be described as ‘malicious’.

“Well, whoever you are,” her doppelganger said. “It doesn’t matter. If you know me, you must be participating in this War as well. Master or Servant, I’ll just eliminate you all the same.

“Kill her, Berserker.”

With that one line, Illyasviel von Einzbern – a normal, everyday schoolgirl – felt her world instantly fall apart.

Chapter Text

She recognized that form. She recognized that appearance. It was something she had seen only once in her life, and was something she never wanted to see again.

Now that she was facing it once more, she could not help but be brutally reminded of that battle. Of that raw, overwhelming sense of fear.

The very air shook in the wake of Berserker's charge, and the ground beneath it shattered with every step. Emanating sheer power and bloodlust, the Servant of madness howled with rage as it lifted its weapon. If that gigantic mass of violence and death could even be called that.

Staring blankly at the towering mass of horror, Illya just froze. She had forgotten just how terrifying the Class Cards could be, and for a brief moment was rendered helpless. But fortunately for her, it had just been a brief moment.

Rolling out of the way, Illya felt a sharp pain explode across her back. It was miraculous enough that she was able to even evade the blow, but as expected, she was not unscathed. Pieces of fabric flew into the air as the back of her uniform was ripped off, and she could feel the blood trickling steadily onto her skirt.

It's just a light wound, she told herself in her head. Calm down, Illyasviel. You've beaten him before, so you have nothing to-

Her thoughts interrupted by another violent swing, Illya ducked under the incoming axe sword as it cleaved past the space where her head had been. Feeling strands of her hair being ripped off by the force, Illya broke into a run, intent on putting some distance between them.

Watching her faithful Servant try to pound her impostor into a pile of meat and blood, Illyasviel smiled. The faker, whoever she was, was fast on her feet at least; to be able to evade Berserker's attacks like that was impressive for someone who was not a Servant.

"She's kinda interesting for a rat," she chuckled. "Berserker, play around with her a little; I want to see her suffer more."

It might have sounded illogical, since the girl in question looked exactly like she did, but Illyasviel certainly did not think that way; the girl, some minor physical similarities aside, had expressions Illyasviel herself would never wear on her face - shock, fear, and most of all,weakness.

Illyasviel was, despite her appearance, a woman with a mission, and a magus entrusted with the lifelong dream of the Einzberns. Fear was not in her vocabulary, and weakness was not a part of her existence. A cheap copy of her with those stupid expressions on her face was not her, and she would find it ridiculous how anyone could even think they looked alike.

"Well now," she said, walking towards her Servant in small, dainty steps. "Let's hear what the little mouse has to say."

Illya, trapped in Berserker's massive hand, struggled to free herself but to no avail. The towering giant's grip was firm, and more than capable of crushing her at any time.

"W-why..." she gasped, barely capable of speech through the force squeezing the life out of her. "A-are you... doing this...?"

"Why? Because I'm a Master," Illyasviel replied innocently, as though she genuinely did not understand the question. "It's only logical to kill the other Masters and Servants in order to win, right?"

"I... Ugh! I don't know... what you're talking about," Illya whimpered, her eyes tearing up from the pain. "P-please... Let me go..."

"Hmm..." Illyasviel hummed sweetly, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Sure. Berserker, let her go."

Obeying her orders without question, Berserker released Illya, letting her fall to the ground like a discarded doll. Shakily getting to her feet, Illya took one last look at her doppelganger, and ran off.

There were several questions she wanted to ask, but even she knew better than to ask them now. With that hulking murder machine next to her, there was no way to have any sort of decent conversation.

"Three... Two... One," Illyasviel counted, watching the helpless mouse run away. "Times up~ Get her, Berserker."

Unleashing a herculean roar, the Mad Servant kicked off the ground, leaping towards its prey like a cannonball. Turning around just in time to see its axe sword gleaming in the moonlight, Illya knew that she could not dodge it in time-

I'm going to die.

For the first time since the battle with Bazett, Illya felt the pressure of battle overwhelm her. For the first time since the battle with Assassin, she could feel the raw fear permeate her being, seeping into the deepest reaches of her soul. For the first time in what felt like forever, she knew she was going to die.

I can't escape. I can't fight back.

The axe sword cut through the air between them, aimed at the dead center of her face.

I don't want it to end this way.

The jagged edges of the monstrous mass closed in, thirsting for her flesh, blood and bones. There was no escape.

I don't want to die.

"Install."

A momentary burst of light blinded Berserker, but it did not stop the Servant's attack. Crashing down with enough force to level a house, the weapon buried itself into the asphalt, sending up a large cloud of dust and debris.

Illyasviel raised an eyebrow dubiously. She was confident in Berserker's ability, but she was not naive enough to overlook that flash of light. Even though Berserker calmed down after the blow - a sign that it no longer had a target to destroy - she was not entirely sure it was over yet.

"Berser-"

Before she could even finish calling her Servant, several beams of light bombarded her Servant from above. Turning sharply in the direction they had been fired from, Illyasviel's eyes widened in surprise.

Donning a bluish-purple robe and sporting a large black cape, Illya floated in the air above them using her outstretched cape as wings. Brandishing a long staff in her hands, she simply gave it a wave and several magic circles appeared out of thin air around her. Along with the two on her 'wings', the circles unleashed a Rain of Light without warning upon Berserker.

Exploding with the force of a missile, every individual beam struck the ground and incinerated it in an instant. Weaving and dodging the beams with much difficulty due to his bulk, Berserker was eventually caught by a stray blast and slammed into the ground.

Opening her mouth to start a series of incantations, Illya stopped abruptly and put a hand to her forehead. A terrible migraine assaulted her head, breaking her concentration as Berserker got to his feet.

Her consciousness faded in and out, occasionally registering the scene in front of her before everything blacked out for a few seconds. She could not keep track of what was happening, but there was a rather familiar sensation flowing through her body.

She vaguely wondered if she was flying. But she could not have been flying, since Ruby was not with her. Was she using magic? But that should not be possible without Ruby. Somehow, despite all these questions and this strange, alien feeling, she somehow believed that she had done this before.

"Defeat it..." she muttered, and her consciousness faded into darkness.

But even when she was not aware of it, her body acted in accordance to her wish.

"Μαρδοξ," she commanded, and a glass-like barrier appeared, shielding her from Berserker's weapon as it flew towards her like a rocket. While it managed to repel the blow, the barrier itself shattered, throwing off her balance.

With the help of his monstrous strength, Berserker leapt off the ground, jumping several meters with ease and grabbing Illya by the leg. Falling back down to Earth, the Servant readied his arm to swing her tiny body into the ground, splattering her innards everywhere-

But before he even landed, Illya was gone.

Teleporting a fair distance away from Berserker, Illya raised her staff. The blank, unfeeling look in her eyes was accompanied by her following command, said in a voice equally as callous:

"Ατλας."

A silver mist surrounded Berserker, and in the blink of an eye his body was frozen in place. While it looked like simple frost on his skin, Berserker was still held in place by it, unable to escape.

Taking advantage of his immobility, Illya prepared her next attack. Chanting in an unknown language and holding her staff in front of her, she created five large magic circles around her, each pulsating with a level of mana far beyond that of her previous attacks. Just as Berserker started to break through the ice with sheer brute strength, she unleashed her attack.

"Gomon Kaihou."

Five huge pillars of light erupted from the 'gates', merging into one gargantuan beam of destruction that swallowed Berserker. Reducing the entire area it touched into a smoldering crater, the spell from the Age of the Gods left nothing behind, not even ashes-

"Enough playing around, Berserker," Illyasviel ordered sternly, hastily getting to her feet; that attack earlier was dangerous, and the shockwave had been enough to knock her on her rear despite being a fair distance away. "Kill her quickly."

Berserker, a smoking charred corpse, naturally could not reply. The devastating attack could not be survived, and surely this black giant was no different.

But unfortunately for Illya, he was.

Reanimating right before Illyasviel's eyes, Berserker growled in acknowledgement of her command. Rising to his feet, he turned to look at his foe, who was no longer flying but rather, falling to the ground.

Completely out cold and with her transformation rescinded, Illya fell, plummeting towards the concrete ground below.

-

Emiya Shirou hastened his footsteps, practically sprinting towards the direction of the noise. Fuji-nee would have called him a busybody, and Sakura definitely would not have approved, but he could not just walk away.

The streets of Fuyuki were not safe lately, what with the mysterious murders going on here and there. While Shirou was not stupid enough to go around looking for the killer at night (because Fuji-nee would kill him for not doing his homework), he could not just ignore an explosion when he knew where it was coming from. Who knows how many people might have been injured in that blast? He could not just leave them alone, not when he was actually able to do something about it.

I'm sure Fuji-nee will understand, he thought. Helping others is a good thing after all.

The moment he thought that, he saw it. Or rather, he saw her.

Falling from the sky like a single, delicate snowflake, was a girl with silver hair.

-

"Look out!"

Illya tried to open her eyes upon hearing that strangely familiar voice, but her body refused to comply. Wind was billowing around her, howling in her ears until something soft and warm caught her. Whatever it was, it held on to her tightly, and she found herself wishing he would not let go.

... He?

"Hey, are you alright?" a panicked voice asked. "Are you- you're bleeding! We need to get you to the hospital-"

"O-Onii... chan..."

The last thing she remembered before passing out, was the disembodied shouts of a familiar-sounding voice.

-

"H-hey, are you alright?" Shirou asked, gently shaking the girl in his arms. He put a trembling finger to her nose, and heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness... She's breathing."

Unfortunately for Shirou, that relief was short-lived; almost immediately after he relaxed, a giant mass of muscle and bloodlust tore into the street. It was a monstrosity both in size and presence, and simply looking at it was enough to induce so much fear in Shirou he could not move.

The black giant, without even caring about Shirou's existence, lifted the terrifying weapon in its hand to smash both him and the girl into paste-

"Stop, Berserker."

Just like that, the rage-filled monster before Shirou stopped, withdrawing its weapon and standing still like a statue. Its imposing presence was nonetheless still powerful, but its bloodlust seemed to have vanished instantly.

Walking into the spotlight cast by a nearby streetlamp, Illyasviel smiled at the boy who had been scared stiff by her Servant. Paying no heed to the fake in his arms, she curtsied.

"Good evening, onii-chan," she greeted. "This wasn't how I expected our first encounter to go, but I guess it can't be helped, right? Could you please hand that over to me?"

"Wha..." Shirou stammered, struggling to find his voice. "W-who are you? And what do you want with this girl?"

"Of course I want to kill her, silly," Illyasviel replied sweetly. "But I don't want you to die just yet, so if you could just give me-"

"There's no way I'd do that!" Shirou exclaimed. "How could I possibly let you kill someone like that?! This girl... you... Aren't you twins?! Why would you try to-"

"Twins?"

That one word cut sharply into Shirou's thoughts, freezing the air around her as Illyasviel's expression and tone changed.

"Me, twins with that defect?" she asked coldly. "Don't make me laugh. If you really have no intention of handing her over, then you can die here right now with her. Ber-"

She paused. Distant voices could be heard, and footsteps were starting to close in. Berserker's fight with Illya had caused much more noise than expected, and now it was drawing in a crowd. The resulting commotion would be troublesome, and Illyasviel was not one for doing troublesome things.

"We're leaving, Berserker," she ordered, and her Servant lifted her onto his shoulder obediently. "I'll let you off the hook tonight, onii-chan, but if you want to survive, you better rely on something other than her. Like a Servant, perhaps."

"S-Servant?" Shirou asked.

"Yes, a Servant," Illyasviel grinned, looking as if she was talking to a stupid child. "If you don't summon one soon, you really will die, onii-chan."

With that, Berserker leapt into the air, disappearing under the cover of night. Shirou, staring at the spot where the black giant had been moments before, holding an injured little girl in his arms, was speechless.

What have I gotten myself into? he thought.

Chapter Text

Matou Sakura was, in all aspects, a Yamato Nadeshiko. She was the perfect lady, capable of doing anything she set her mind to. She could cook, clean, do archery, study and help other people out at the same time. Everything about her was flawless – except maybe for her older brother Shinji.

Being the well-mannered, gentle woman that she was, Sakura was very patient when it came to love. She was very subtle when it came to winning the heart of her senpai, Emiya Shirou, and often went over to his place to clean up and cook him meals. She believed that if she waited, eventually he would come to notice her feelings.

And then he brought a girl home.

"S-S-Senpai?!" she gasped, staring at the little girl he was carrying on his back. She seemed no older than ten. "W-why do you have an unconscious grade-schooler on your back?"

"It's… complicated," Shirou replied, causing Sakura to turn white as sheet. "Anyway, I need your help. She's injured."

She said nothing, but deep down, Sakura somehow knew that from that day onwards, everything would change. It was as though on that day, the world had begun moving in a drastically different direction.

She could not quite place it, but there was a tingling sensation in her chest she just could not rid.

-

Sakura set aside the bloodied cotton balls and proceeded to wrap some bandages around the wound on Illya's back. Luckily, the wound was not deep, and her spine did not seem to be damaged. Regardless, she would need to rest for a few days just to be safe.

"You can come in now, Senpai," she called out meekly, and the sound of the door sliding open told her he was indeed coming in.

"How is she looking?" Shirou asked, his expression wrought with worry.

"Her injuries don't seem to be too bad," Sakura replied, tucking the girl in. There were plenty of spare futons around the house, and they hardly ever served a purpose until now. "She just seems to be exhausted. She should be alright after a few days of rest."

"I see," Shirou replied. "That's great."

"Um, Senpai…" Sakura said softly. "How did you find her like this? What on earth happened?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure either," Shirou answered. He could not very well tell her 'she fell from the sky'. "She was attacked by this huge man and a girl who looked exactly like her. I don't know what's going on, but until we figure things out, we should let her stay here for a bit; it'd be harder for her pursuers to find her here than in some hospital, right?"

"I guess you're right," Sakura nodded. There was no arguing with him; that was just the kind of person Emiya Shirou was. "But how will you convince Fujimura-sensei?"

Shirou thought long and hard about that one.

"You can't keep her hidden in the house, senpai," Sakura reminded as he opened his mouth, forcing him to shut it again.

"… We could try bribing her with food?" he suggested weakly.

There was a long and heavy pause.

"I'll make my special sauce," she offered.

-

Miyu Edelfelt wanted to run away. It might have sounded pathetic, and especially cowardly considering her experience in combat, but she was genuinely afraid. Afraid that this room would suddenly turn into an active warzone and blow up half the house.

Seated around the table were Luvia, Kuro and Bazett, while Rin stood between them and a whiteboard mounted on the wall. Even though there were only four people excluding Miyu, these four were more than capable of wrecking half of Fuyuki. The very fact that Bazett of all people was sitting in a room inside the house she once destroyed was surreal. Maybe the debt Luvia forced onto her would be a strong enough deterrent.

Though, just in case, Miyu still stood close to the door to have an easy escape route.

“So, in the end, we have no idea what exactly happened,” Rin began.

“We already knew that, Tohsaka Rin,” Luvia replied in her usual condescending tone. “Could you please provide us with information that’s not quite so useless? Or is your monkey brain unable to discern what’s useless and what’s not?”

“I’m getting there,” Rin snapped, glaring at her rival as well as master. “While we don’t know what happened, we do know that the distortion initially present at the school has vanished. We can assume that the distortion somehow interfered with the jump and warped Illya somewhere.”

“And this ‘somewhere’ is this Mirror World you speak of?” Bazett asked. How she managed to defeat two Class Cards and still not know what the Mirror World was remained a mystery.

“I can’t be sure,” Rin replied. “We can’t get through to Ruby via Sapphire, so we can assume it may be further than that.”

“You know,” Kuro said, raising a hand. “You say ‘assume’, ‘assume’, but what do we know for sure that we can go on?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Rin admitted. “The only connection would be the strange distortion appearing across the city. Hypothetically, if we make use of the distortion at another location, we may be able to jump to where Illya is using Sapphire.”

“Too risky,” Bazett said immediately. “We have no guarantee if it will transport us to the desired location at all, or if it will have any lasting effects on the body.”

“Agreed,” Luvia chipped in. “And if the distortion really is the cause of the change in jump coordinates, there’s no guarantee we’ll have access to it on the other side to jump back.”

“So for now, we’re helpless,” Kuro summarized.

“Yes, as much as I don’t want to admit it,” Rin replied. “We’ll-”

“Wait just a moment,” Luvia said. “I need to ask something of that woman over there. Before the task of collecting the Class Cards was given to me- I mean, given to us, you were in charge of it. You even took down two of them by yourself, correct?”

“What of it?” Bazett questioned.

“How did you manage to access the Mirror World without the Kaleid Sticks?” Luvia asked. “That may give us a hint-”

“It’s useless,” Bazett said immediately. “The time it takes to prepare the spell is too long, not to mention it requires too many magi present to pull off. They need to be present to extract the target at the signal as well, so it’s impossible for us with the amount of people we have here.”

“I see…” Luvia muttered. “Back to square one, then.”

“Luvia and I will try to look into this matter a little more,” Rin said. “Kuro and Miyu, we’d like you to be on standby. As for Bazett… You can do whatever you please.”

“Of course,” Bazett said coolly. “That has always been my intention from the beginning.”

“Is that right,” Rin replied. “Well, so long as you don’t get in our way, it’s fine. Alright, dismissed!”

-

“Even after everything they said, you’re still going to go?”

Miyu jumped. Turning around swiftly like a girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar, the cool beauty had a rare look of surprise on her face.

“K-Kuro,” she stuttered. “W-what’re you…?”

“Well, this is where the eighth card is supposed to be,” Kuro said, gesturing around the cavern they were in. Luvia had said she had some construction work going on to allow jumping to where the card was, but it was apparently not ready yet. “So of course I’m here to battle it, silly.”

“B-but you can’t jump without-” Miyu began.

“Oh, Miyu,” Kuro sighed. “You’re really stiff, you know that? Sarcasm just doesn’t work on you. I’m here because I thought a certain elementary-school-maid-slash-magical-girl would try to be foolish and do something stupid. You know, I thought you were the rational kind.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Miyu nodded. “But… Even if the chances are slim, I still want to help Illya as soon as I can…”

“Hmm…” Kuro mused. “Are you alright with this, Sapphire?”

“I am but a Mystic Code,” Sapphire replied. “I will follow through with whatever my Master decides.”

Says the one who ditched Luvia and switched to Miyu, Kuro thought, rolling her eyes. “Very well. Mind telling me why you’re so desperate to go?”

“I… Because she’s probably alone and afraid right now,” Miyu replied, clutching her chest. “She… came back for me when we were fighting Berserker, and she fought by my side. She was afraid then, and she did not want to fight anymore, but she still summoned the courage to overcome that fear for our friendship. She called me her precious friend, so I…”

“So you…?” Kuro prompted, a knowing smile on her face.

“So I want to reach out to her this time,” Miyu replied, much more firmly. “I want to save her because… because she’s my friend!”

Kuro sighed.

“My, my…” she said, shaking her head in exasperation. “Looks like you won’t yield that easily… Guess I’ll just have to kiss you into submission~”

“E-eh?!” Miyu yelped, retreating a few steps as a furious blush painted her cheeks.

“It’s been a long time since our last ‘session’, hasn’t it?” Kuro asked, licking her lips. “Miyu’s always had a lovely supply of mana, so I’m really looking forward to it…”

“Wha- I-” Miyu stammered, backing herself into a wall. “W-wait, I…”

“If I don’t, I’ll disappear, you know,” Kuro reminded, leaning in close. “Is that what you want?”

“N-no, but-” Miyu, being the rational one, could not actually come up with a proper reply. “I… I… Ugh… B-be gentle… P-please…”

Kuro smirked, and pushed her face closer. Miyu, bracing herself for the worst, shut her eyes tightly, forcing out the tears that had been building up and waiting for the impact-

“Just kidding,” Kuro sang, flicking her forehead with a finger. “I have enough mana reserves to last me a while, so you don’t have to worry. But I must say, you look really cute when you’re flustered, Miyu.”

Drowning in embarrassment and unable to speak, Miyu felt her weak knees give way as she fell on her rear, desperately trying to recover her dignity despite the lack of kissing. Chuckling to herself, Kuro twirled around and looked at some trees.

“Peeping on little girls is a terrible hobby to have,” she called out.

“Peeping was not my objective,” Bazett said calmly, emerging from the side of the entrance and walking into the cavern. “Observing the situation at hand is.”

“Every peeping tom’s excuse,” Kuro countered. “Are you here to stop us, scary onee-san?”

“That would be ideal,” Bazett replied. “But I know from past experience that you will not give up even if I break your limbs and grind your bones to dust, so I will abstain from such futile acts.”

“Such scary words from an onee-chan,” Kuro muttered under her breath. “So let me guess: you want to tag along, is that it?”

“Naturally,” Bazett replied. “Retrieving the cards is my mission. I will see it through till the end.”

“And what about the risks?” Kuro challenged. “What if you end up in some strange dimension filled with scary monsters?”

“Then I shall simply adapt and annihilate everything in my way,” Bazett replied, dead serious with her words. “If it moves, I crush it. Simple.”

“So you’re the scariest of them all, huh,” Kuro sighed. “There you have it, Miyu and Sapphire: a trip to the unknown for three.”

“W-wait, Kuro,” Miyu said uncertainly. “Are you coming as well?”

“What’re you talking about?” Kuro asked. “Of course I am. As the big sister, I have to look out for my crybaby imouto, don’t I? Or what; do you have any objections to raise? I’d be more than happy to ‘convince’ you otherwise with a ki-”

“There’s no need,” Miyu said quickly. “I understand. Sapphire.”

“Yes, Miyu-sama,” Sapphire replied, glowing brightly enough to envelope Miyu’s entire body with light. The glow soon became a powerful shine, and as it faded a blue-and-black dress replaced Miyu’s original clothes, complete with a pale blue cape and boots. “Transformation complete. I will now proceed with the jump.”

“You…” Bazett seemed to be at a loss for words, her expression somewhere between disgusted and shocked. “That… outfit… Does Lord Zelretch’s Mystic Code always disintegrate the user’s clothes before replacing them?”

“It is necessary for the transformation,” Miyu deadpanned, her face totally expressionless. “It is no different from stripping before one bathes or when one undresses in order to change clothes.”

The look on Bazett’s face would have been worth a picture (and the possible risk of having it crushed along with her hand afterward), but Kuro contented with concealing her mirth behind a series of giggles. Just as Bazett was about to retort, Sapphire started glowing again.

“Jump!”

-

The world had no end in sight. Nothing existed in this void, and even the darkest of shadows were swallowed up by the surrounding darkness. In this space, nothing was allowed to take shape, to be born.

And yet, inexplicably, it existed.

Writhing about the boundless sea of black, the shadows converged, creating a shade even darker than that of the world around them. Their very existence rejected the void, refusing to be consumed by this overbearing fiend. Powerless as they were by themselves, they moved, seeking out each other like ravenous snakes.

Slowly, it began to form. Rising from the murky shadows was the figure of a man – a man blacker than darkness itself, darker than even the shadows that gave him form.

Raising a hand and stretching towards something eyes could not see, the figure started moving. It had no eyes, no mouth, no ears, and no nose, but it knew, surely, that what it sought was right there on the edge of this void.

“Holy… Grail…”

A terribly warped voice echoed across the space, twisting the air with its ominous words. Deprived of all reason and mind, the mass of shadows advanced, driven by instinct alone to seek the object it could not understand.

“Sapphire,” a faint voice called out. A girl’s voice, one that swiftly dissolved into nothingness as soon as it was uttered. That weak sound, however insignificant, made him pause.

It was not the Grail, at least not in its truest form. It was missing something to become complete, but it was without a doubt what he sought.

“Holy… Grail…”

A powerful radiance illuminated the space, sucking in the shadows without mercy. The mass of shadows relented, allowing the pathetic flicker to absorb it, to take it to its rightful prize.

“Jump!”

Following the voice without a hint of fear, the figure of the man changed ever so slightly. Upon its head, where its face supposedly was, a large crack appeared, widening as it drew closer to its goal.

It was, undoubtedly, a smile.

-

Dim orange glow adorned the walls, granting the gloomy space some illumination. It was a depressing atmosphere, but he had since grown accustomed to it; as a King, he was magnanimous enough to allow such depraved living conditions, and he was well aware that vain luxuries were not things sought by the man who had offered up this room.

“I tire of this,” he said to the empty room. “To think that this age would be such a disappointment… Will humans never be satisfied with the depths to which they’ve sunken?”

“It is highly unlikely,” a deeper, more callous voice replied. Compared to the first man, whose voice carried an air of authority and power, this man sounded so emotionally detached that his words no longer felt like his own. “But is that not why you are here – to judge those unfit to live in this world?”

“Indeed,” the first man said. “But make no mistake, Kirei; I am not ‘here’ in this age. This age merely happened to be blessed with my presence. I do not appear somewhere with a purpose or for a purpose like some pauper; the world gives itself a purpose to serve me when it basks in my radiance.”

“Of course,” the man called Kirei replied. “It’s only logical.”

The first man opened his mouth to say something else, only to close it almost immediately. Turning around and staring at the wall at the far end of the room, he narrowed his scarlet eyes.

“What is the matter?” Kirei asked.

The blond-haired man did not reply. He merely maintained his gaze, as though the wall had done him wrong, but Kirei knew he was looking at something far beyond it. That, or the golden king had finally gone insane (not that he would ever say that to his face).

“Say, Kirei,” he said slowly. “Has another Servant been summoned?”

“Not that I know of,” Kirei replied calmly. “Is something the matter?”

“No, it is nothing,” the King said, walking out of the room.

Even Kirei would know something was up with that. The blond-haired man was never wrong, and so his question must have had some significance. The King’s every word was like gold, and his every command heaven’s decree. After all, he was mankind’s oldest hero, and without a shadow of doubt its strongest as well. In this world – no, in this universe – there could only be one of such an absolute existence.

Preposterous, he chided himself in his head. As if such a thing could be possible.

Laughing derisively at those thoughts for daring to surface in his mind, the hero Gilgamesh disappeared in a swirl of gold dust.

-

Buried deep within the Earth, the shadows breathed.

He could feel it. He could almost reach it. He knew now, clearer than ever, that what he sought was there, above the ground and, for now, still sleeping.

He could feel his face splitting into a wide smile, and his body tremble with excitement. Every inch of his form was howling for the Holy Grail, to claim the forbidden chalice as its possession.

“Holy… Grail…”

Buried deep within the Earth, the Eighth Class Card seethed.

Chapter Text

A gentle fragrance wafted by, filling her nose with its soothing scent. It smelled so familiar, but she found herself unable to discern what it was. Whatever it was, it vaguely reminded her of her home, and her loving family-

A dull, throbbing pain registered, breaking off her train of thought. Slowly opening her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, Illya groggily got up into a sitting position. She was lying in a futon in a room she did not recognize, which should have rang several alarms in her head, but she was oddly unable to bring herself to mind.

"O-oww…" she winced, reaching for her back. "Huh? Blankets… Bandages? Where is this…?"

The moment she brought up the question, several scenes flooded into her head, brutally reminding her of the previous night's events. Of that giant, hulking monster, of the fear from knowing she was going to die, and most of all, of her.

That girl had looked exactly like her. She never did get her name, what with a rampaging monster in between them, but she was the splitting image of Illya. It was almost like seeing Kuro all over again.

Eh? She wondered, finally realizing something important. How… did I escape?

She racked her brain trying to remember, but nothing came to mind. Her memories simply stopped right before Berserker’s weapon pulverized her, and the next thing she knew, she was here in this strange room. The dull pain in her back told her that this was not a dream, so she must have survived the encounter somehow. But how?

“Oh, looks like you’re awake.”

Her head spinning around so fast it hurt, Illya stared at the owner of the voice. Rather than being surprised by the sudden voice, she was more distracted by the fact that it sounded so familiar.

“O-Onii-chan?” she asked, almost unsure of who she was looking at. But there was no mistaking that voice and his face.

“How’re you feeling?” Shirou asked with a warm smile. “Are you still hurting from yester-oof!”

Tackled to the floor by the white missile that was Illya, Shirou fell onto his rear as she applied a tight grip around his waist.

“U-um…” he stammered. Being Shirou, he was naturally unsure of what to do when it came to women.

“Thank goodness,” Illya sobbed, her already weak voice muffled by his shirt. “I was all alone, and then I woke up here in a strange place… I didn’t know what to do… I-I’m scared, Onii-chan…”

Having lost the ability to fight, Illya finally remembered what it meant to be who she was supposed to be – a normal, everyday girl with no magical powers. Without the power to fight, she had no place in the world of magic, and all she had was a tiny life easily extinguishable with the slightest of efforts.

For what reason had she stepped into this nightmare?

If you really didn’t want to, Ruby would have backed off.

Miyu’s words from back then returned to haunt her. If only she had refused in the beginning, she would not be in this mess. If she had not let her childish fantasies make the decision for her, she would not have had to risk her life. If only she had practiced more common sense, she would not be overwhelmed by fear right now.

“Don’t leave me alone,” she begged, trembling as she latched onto her last source of sanity. “I don’t want to be by myself right now…”

Shirou, on the other hand, was stunned. Sure, this was technically their first meeting, and he had no idea what kind of person this girl was, but her current reaction was baffling. He had assumed, after seeing her twin yesterday, that the girl currently crying into his shirt would be similar in some aspects aside from appearance. Her twin had been merciless and uncaring, able to order her giant partner to kill without batting an eye. She had been confident – arrogant, even – and she was a complete enigma.

This girl, however, was far too… fragile.

It would be normal for anyone to be crying after an experience like that. It would be perfectly understandable for a young child like her to be terrified, but Shirou was not ready for it. Why he expected a tiny girl like her to be anything but fragile and straightforward was a mystery even to him.

“It’s okay,” he told her, holding her a little closer. He could feel her small frame still trembling against his warmth. It was soul wrenching. “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t worry, okay?”

Wordlessly, Illya nodded. His words seemed to put her at ease, which was good enough for Shirou. Explanations could wait for later; right now, he had to protect this delicate existence in front of him. Whatever it was that happened, there could be no justification for making her go through whatever it was that she had to go through.

“It’s alright now,” he promised, unable to help himself.

Illya did not stop sobbing for a good five minutes, thoroughly soaking Shirou’s shirt with her tears. When she finally calmed down enough to back away, she became mute, keeping a fair distance from Shirou while sporting a faint blush on her cheeks.

“S-sorry about that, onii-chan,” she mumbled.

“No, it’s okay,” Shirou chuckled. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Y-yeah, I guess…” Illya replied. The room was getting warmer and warmer, and it she suspected it had nothing to do with the season. But that did not stop her from blaming it on the season anyway.

“Oh, right, I forgot to ask,” Shirou said suddenly. “What’s your name? We haven’t been probably introduced yet.”

Illya froze.

“W-what’re you talking about, onii-chan?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Don’t joke around at times like this!”

“But… I’m not joking,” Shirou replied blankly. “You call me ‘onii-chan’, but I’ve never seen you before. Are you a foreigner? Your Japanese is surprisingly good.”

“W…Wha…” Illya stammered, backing away from Shirou instinctively. “T-then… W-who are you?”

“Me? I’m Emiya Shirou,” Shirou replied. He was clearly confused, but that was nothing new at this point.

“T-then…” Illya stuttered, but quickly stopped herself. Remembering the girl from the previous night, and the fact that Berserker was there, she quickly rummaged her pockets and pulled out four cards. “N-no way…”

Sitting innocently in her hand were cards reading Caster, Assassin, Lancer and-

Berserker.

The Class Card they defeated was still there, sealed in its card and completely harmless. Emiya Shirou, her big brother, was there, but he did not know her. She might have believed that someone had messed with Shirou’s memory, but with Berserker’s card and Ruby’s Jump before this…

No, she thought desperately. It can’t be… can it?

She had been through more than enough to know that magic went beyond common sense, and Ruby had once told her that parallel worlds were definitely a thing. She had even daydreamed about them before, but to be in one was… impossible. Surely it had to be impossible.

“What’s the matter?” Shirou asked.

“Um… Onii- Shirou-san,” Illya said, cringing at her new way of addressing her brother. “Y-you don’t happen to have a little sister, do you?”

“Just ‘Shirou is fine. And no, I don’t,” Shirou replied. “I don’t know if my old man had another kid before me though; he just tended to dodge the topic whenever I brought it up.”

“Y-your father?”

“Yep. His name was Emiya Kiritsugu,” Shirou told her. “He passed away some time ago, but I still look up to him; he adopted me, and..."

But Illya was no longer listening. It was as if the world had changed, and that she was no longer living in the same reality as Shirou despite being in the same room. The world around her grinded into a painfully slow crawl, and the space became a deadly vacuum, devoid of air and sound.

Gasping for air, she clutched at her chest, trying to contain the hammering palpitations of her heart. Her whole body was in pain, but it could not move; every muscle seemed to have gone stiff, and every drop of blood froze in her veins. Her brain was no longer even capable of keeping up anymore.

“Hey, are you alright?” Shirou asked worriedly, walking over to her. “Are you hurting somewh-”

“Stay away!” Illya shrieked, backing away from the stranger in front of her. “I-I… you… I-I’m sorry… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… shout…”

“Oh… I-it’s alright,” Shirou replied, smiling at her reassuringly. To be honest, he was seriously taken aback by her reaction, but let it slide believing her to still be in shock. “Um… Would you like something to eat? You’ve been out for some time, so you must be hungry, right?”

“N-no, I’m fine…” Illya mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but… could you please leave me alone for a bit…?”

Shirou opened his mouth to protest, but upon seeing the look in Illya’s eyes, he relented. He was helpless about her situation, and the least he could do was to give her what she wanted. He wanted to help her – he had to help her – but right now, he could not do a single thing. Just the very thought of being so useless irked him.

“I understand,” he replied. “If you need anything, just let me know, okay? No need to be shy.”

Silently, Illya nodded. She never did make eye contact with him again as he left the room.

-

Illya sat in a corner of the room, hugging her knees close to her chest. The overbearing panic had died down, but the sense of unease and fear had not vanished. Despite not wanting anything to do with magic anymore, she really wished Ruby was there with her right now. She wanted to be with her parents, her ‘sisters’ Sella and Liz, her friends, her brother…

But right now, all she had was this unfamiliar room, and it was slowly losing its hue to the encroaching shroud of night. She was alone, and she had never been this afraid of that thought in her life.

Getting up gingerly, she walked over to the door, her steps soft and silent. She had no real need to sneak around, but she still kept her approach as quiet as possible, as though afraid the room and its furniture would attack her if they noticed her.

Gently sliding open the door, she poked her head out and surveyed the surroundings. The long corridor was brightly lit, but there was not a single person in sight. Unsure of whether to feel relieved or worried, Illya stepped out of the room- and kicked over a small bowl.

With a frightened squeak and jumping back a few steps, Illya looked down at the floor expecting to see a rat or some sort of creature, but instead found a plate of what appeared to be meat and potatoes, neatly wrapped in cling wrap next to a glass of water and another bowl, this one filled with rice. Setting the bowl upright hastily, Illya looked at the food and, despite everything, smiled.

I guess onii-chan will always be onii-chan, she thought. Even though she was still afraid, she could not help but feel a little relief at his actions. These acts of kindness were a large part of why she loved him-

Shaking her head to rid those embarrassing thoughts, Illya got up to check out the house. It was huge, much larger than the house she had been living in all her life, and it was so different in style too. Her mother was always saying something about wanting to live in a Japanese-styled house, but they had been unable to find a suitable one for the longest time. She would be elated to know that this… world’s… Emiya residence was a place like this.

Oh, right, she thought. I forgot to ask where this world’s Mama was… She can’t be… gone as well, can she?

The sight of a familiar face made Illya gasp. At first, she had thought it was him, but when her surprised settled down, she knew that it was just a photo.

To be specific, it was a framed photo of Emiya Kiritsugu.

“Papa…”

The words had escaped her lips before she realized it. Even though she knew it was someone else, Illya could not help but feel a sharp pain in her chest. Even if he was indeed someone else, he was still Emiya Kiritsugu – her beloved father.

“Rest in peace, papa,” she said softly. “I’m sure mama-”

She paused. Kiritsugu’s picture was alone, with Irisviel’s nowhere in sight. Sad as she was at the sight of her father being by himself, Illya still felt a tinge of hope flutter in her chest.

Mama’s not here, she thought. That must mean she’s still alive! I have to find-

A loud crash broke into her thoughts, instantly shifting her attention to the front porch. Completely disregarding the fact that she was in an unfamiliar parallel world, and that she was a normal girl with no magical powers, Illya ran straight towards the porch and found Shirou leaning against the wall, panting as though he had just run a marathon.

“O-S-Shirou?!” Illya exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. “What’s wrong?! What- i-is that blood?!”

“O-oh, this…” Shirou said between heavy intakes of breath, resting a hand on his chest, where a bloody hole had been torn into his uniform. “I’m fine, I’m fine… I’m not sure how, but I’m fine…”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Illya yelled. “What did you do?!”

“I went back to take my notes,” Shirou replied. “Then… I don’t know why, but there were these two guys… fighting in the school… One of them stabbed me, then-”

He froze, his eyes widening as a horrible thought crossed his mind.

“S-Shirou?” Illya asked worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not safe here,” he said, grabbing Illya’s shoulder. “You have to hide somewhere; he might have seen me and-”

But it was already too late. A soft ringing sounded from the bell on the ceiling echoing across the empty household and rendering Shirou completely speechless. Just as Illya opened her mouth to speak, another voice beat her to it.

“Y’know, having to kill the same guy twice in one day isn’t my idea of a good time.”

Fading into being from thin air, was a man dressed in deep blue tights that covered his entire body. Dull silver lines streaked across his clothes, and a pair of matching earrings dangled from his ears. His short blue hair and blood-red eyes gave Illya the impression of a savage beast.

“Great,” he complained, evidently displeased with the turn of events. “Now I have to kill a little girl too.”

Grabbing Illya by the wrist, Shirou broke into a mad sprint, running down the corridors and away from the mysterious assailant. He was fast, and fortunately so was Illya, so she was able to keep up with him, but their pursuer was even faster; before they even made it past the dining room, the man in blue had already cut them off, kicking Shirou in the gut and sending him flying.

All the air knocked out of his lungs, Shirou crashed into the yard with surprising force. Hastily picking himself up and feeling his legs buckle under the pain, he searched his surroundings for anything he could use as a weapon, to at least defend himself and the girl, but there were none to be found.

“Shirou!” Illya shouted, completely forgetting about the man clearly trying to kill them and running over to his side.

“R-run,” Shirou panted. “I’ll hold him off, so get as far away as you can.”

“I don’t dislike that attitude, kid,” the mystery man said, stepping out into the yard. “But sorry to say, you won’t be able to buy even five seconds of time against me, and I’m already being generous. This is out of your league.”

Ignoring his words, Shirou charged blindly at the man, raising his fist for a clumsy punch. His expression completely stoic, the man in blue grabbed his fist in mid swing almost casually and flung him bodily into the old storehouse on the edge of the yard, breaking down the door in the process.

“Stop it!” Illya begged. “Don’t hurt Shirou anymore!”

“No can’t do, I’m afraid,” the red-eyed man said exasperatedly. “It irks me too, but the rules are rules. I’ll kill him quickly now, so he won’t have to feel too much pain if that makes you feel better. And as for you… I’ll give you a head start, little girl, so get running.”

“No!” Illya screeched, two hot rivers blazing down her cheeks. “I’m not leaving him! I won’t let you kill him either!”

As she said those words, a faint light emanated from inside the storehouse, causing the man in blue to turn sharply towards the door. The look in his eyes changed almost instantly, now resembling a predator affirming a new, unknown prey.

“Don’t tell me…” he muttered.

The next instant, a violent gust of wind soared out of the storehouse, slamming into him and knocking him back. With a flick of his wrist, the man manifested a bright red lance from out of nowhere into his hands, pointing its deadly sharp tip towards the ground.

“So, you’re the seventh?” he growled.

The gust of wind settled down, billowing around a graceful figure descending to the yard. Meeting the man’s gaze with a firm spirit of her own, was an awe-inspiring warrior.

Clad in an elegant battle dress with metallic armor across her chest and arms, the woman who had dashed out of the storehouse was the very image of nobility; radiating charisma and unyielding spirit, she had the vibe of a queen or an undefeated warrior. Or, possibly, both.

“I am the Servant, Saber,” she introduced herself, holding her hands in front of her as though she was holding on to a sword. But there was nothing whatsoever in her hands. “From your armament, I presume you are Lancer?”

“Indeed I am,” the man called Lancer replied, smirking. “Guess this’ll be more interesting than I thought.”

Shirou hobbled out of the storehouse and, upon spotting the terrified girl in the yard, dashed over to Illya and pulled her away from the two warriors who looked like they could start fighting at any moment.

“It’s alright now, I think,” he said uncertainly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems she’s on our side.”

“N-no,” Illya gasped. She was staring at Saber, and the very sight of the Servant was sending chills down her spine. Even though the woman was not emitting any hostility towards her, the silver-haired girl still edged away from her like some monster. “S-she’s not on our side… S-she’ll kill us…”

She remembered that appearance. Back then, the color had been different, but it was definitely that dress. She may have had a visor back then, but it was without a doubt this woman. She was the Class Card Saber, the one that had almost killed Rin and Luvia after the battle with Caster. Possessing enough power to easily overwhelm two extremely powerful magical girls, and a shroud of mana dense enough to repel almost any attack, she was without a doubt the strongest enemy Illya ever faced. And she was on their side?

“Master, please stand back,” Saber advised. “I will take care of the intruder.”

Intruder? Is she referring to me? Illya thought, transfixed with horror at the thought of facing her without Ruby. It was going to be a one-sided execution, and Shirou would be next. I can’t fight her like this… Ruby… Where are you, Ruby?!

Right on cue, a swift comet of some sort crashed into the yard, sending up a large cloud of dirt as it buried itself into the ground. Dumbstruck by the sudden flying object, Saber and Lancer just stared at it without making a move.

It was… a stick. A red stick. Protruding out of the ground like a tree branch of sorts, it stayed stationary for a few moments before starting to wiggle.

“What-” Saber began, but the stick bent over and pushed itself out of the hole it created, revealing a circular head with wings at its sides and a star design in the center. At such a bizarre sight, she completely forgot what she was about to say.

“ILLYA-SAN!”

Smashing into Illya’s face with surprising speed and force, the talking stick knocked Illya over, smothering her with its… face, supposedly.

“R-Ruby, get off!” Illya said, trying to pry it from her with little success. “N-now’s not the time!”

“I missed you, Illya-san!” Ruby cried. “We were separated after the jump, and I was so scared to be all by myself! I thought I would never get to see you again! This is really great!”

“I get it, I get it!” Illya said. “Now get off me! We don’t have the time to be messing around!”

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Ruby asked, getting off her Master and twirling around. Looking past the dumbfounded boy with red hair, it stopped when it noticed the two Servants in the yard. “Oh? Oh?! What’s this?! Who are these weird cosplayers?!”

“You only noticed them now?!” Illya asked incredulously. “And they’re not cosplayers! They’re enemies! Hurry and transform, Ruby!”

No, she thought. Transforming alone won’t beat them; I have to Include the Lancer card and…

And what? Miyu and I couldn’t beat it back then, and even Rin-san and Luvia-san lost when they combined their efforts. What can one spear do to this monster, let alone two of them?

“I don’t really get the situation, but whatever!” Ruby said, floating into Illya’s hand and cloaking her in a bright light, replacing her clothes with a pink dress and long boots. “It feels like forever since we got some screen time, so let’s do this!”

“I don’t get what you’re saying, but stay focused, Ruby,” Illya warned.

“That aside, did something happen, Illya-san?” Ruby asked. “I’m detecting injuries on your back. I’m healing it now but it’ll take a few seconds.”

Illya did not reply. Despite her warning to Ruby, she found herself no longer focusing on the fight but rather on the wand in her hands. Just earlier in the morning, she was having second thoughts about fighting anymore, and now she was about to charge into battle again. What on Earth was wrong with her?

"Master, get away from her!” Saber said firmly. “She’s dangerous!”

So that was it. Casting Shirou a gentle look, Illya turned back to the two Servants with a fresh determination in her eyes. Holding out the Lancer card, she slowly rested it against Ruby’s star.

“I won’t let you lay a hand on Shirou,” she declared.

She was still afraid, and she still abhorred the thought of fighting. She did not want to risk her life anymore, but if there was a reason for her to fight, it was him. Even if she was just a regular elementary schoolgirl, she too had something to protect. Even if she had little to no chance of victory, she was willing to stake everything she had for those she loved.

Remember the feeling when you defeated the Assassins, she told herself. Remember the sensation that time you saved Rin-san and Luvia-san in that cavern.

For the sake of protecting her brother, Illyasviel von Einzbern yelled out:

“Class Card, Lancer – Install!”

Chapter Text

The dim glow from lit candles barely reached him, casting a faint shadow of his figure on the wall. His face, hardly feeling the warmth from the tiny flames, was a stoic mask unable to change its expression.

Staring at the wall in front of him, Kotomine Kirei held his breath ever so briefly. Unknown to the casual observer, he was looking at another scene altogether despite being in this dark, depressing church. Not that he minded; having a lack of light was soothing after spending time with Gilgamesh, whose very existence was glowing. Often literally.

Thanks to a useful little spell, he was able to see what his Servant Lancer was currently seeing (strictly speaking, Lancer was not originally his Servant, but he was now). And yet, despite witnessing it with his own eyes, he could not understand what was happening.

Saber’s appearance had been unexpected, and her identity certainly a surprise, but it was ultimately just that. What Kirei had found baffling, however, was the girl defending Saber’s Master.

Silver hair and scarlet irises. White complexion and a face that clearly did not belong to someone from Japan. She was certainly beautiful by regular definitions, but Kirei had always thought of that sort of beauty as… inhuman.

An Einzbern homunculus. He had seen one before, many years ago – ten, to be exact – during the Fourth Holy Grail War. Its contents had been an important part of the ritual, but that was all to its existence, so he had killed the personality of the vessel. He did not even know if it had a name, not that it mattered.

And now this. The tiny thing was surely a homunculus like her predecessor, and more importantly, for the Holy Grail. She (Kirei found it odd that he was referring to her as a ‘she’, but dismissed it as a reflex from seeing her appearance; after all, he had called the previous one ‘woman’ when they conversed) was supposedly a Master, since the Einzberns were guaranteed a spot in the War, but her Servant was nowhere to be seen. It would have been logical to call upon her Servant should she be serious about protecting the boy, especially when she was facing down two other Servants, but she had not. Instead, she had pulled out some strange card, a stick, and transformed into what looked like a miniature version of Lancer.

In essence, it was the same blue tights that Lancer wore, except it showed off a lot more skin at the stomach and legs. It was much smaller to fit her body size and was, for the lack of a better word, rather risqué for battle attire. Other than that, however, she shared Lancer’s image, complete with a ponytail of her own silver hair and a pair of matching earrings. It was a queer display, and Kirei would have chuckled had he not been such an empty man. Not to mention the weapon in her hands had made the whole situation a lot less comical.

It was, however unlikely, Lancer’s Noble Phantasm.

-

Illya could feel a strange energy coursing through her body. It felt like her blood had become warmer all of a sudden, sending an unknown heat through her veins.

Strange, unfamiliar images flooded into her head, and unknown voices rang in her ears. They were memories, but not her own – they belonged to a man once called Sétanta.

They told of the life of a noble warrior, one with the strength to overcome any trial and the willpower of a thousand soldiers. They sang praises of a man who had, while smiling and laughing, accepted a fate of short-lived glory and valor. They wept in anguish to a tragic hero, whose life had been flooded with misfortune and ultimately died by his own cursed spear. They grieved over and revered his legend – of his unrelenting spirit even in the face of death.

It was a tale too excruciating for the faint of heart, and one impossible for even the toughest of warriors. It was truly the story of a Heroic Spirit. Had she not been protected by the technicality that was the Class Card, Illya knew she would have collapsed under the immense weight of those memories. But luckily for her, she was able to assimilate them without much trouble, along with the immense power the Card possessed.

The moment she Installed the Lancer card, everything changed. It almost felt like her body was no longer her own, and had become the very manifestation of the Irish legend that was Cú Chulainn. Beyond simply drawing on the power of the Noble Phantasm, she had become its master – she had effectively become a Heroic Spirit.

In her hands rested the cursed spear Gáe Bolg, which she had seen Miyu use many times in their various battles, and that much was expected. What she had not expected was the change of clothes.

“Ruby…” she said in a low, serious tone. “W-why is this outfit so… revealing?”

“Eh? Isn’t it nicer this way~?” the legendary spear in her hands asked with Ruby’s trademark mirth and voice. “It’s sexy and appeals to all the men out there, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want it to be sexy!” Illya exclaimed, forgetting the situation she was in.

Shirou was dumbstruck. Saber was speechless. Lancer’s expression was an odd mixture of bewilderment, shock and anger.

“Well…” he said, finally finding his voice. “You… This is what you people call ‘cosplay’, isn’t it?”

“Don’t call it cosplay!” Illya yelled childishly, a furious blush on her cheeks. “People will misunderstand!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” the… Gáe Bolg… in her hands added. “Something of this level can’t be considered true cosplay; only something like the Prisma Illya Beast Mode can be-”

“You’re not helping, Ruby! And don’t ever bring up that… that outfit ever again!”

Lancer found it difficult to speak. He knew Japanese thanks to being summoned as a Servant, but he somehow could not find the words to describe how he felt right now. He felt like he was being mocked, but somehow it was not intentional. Maybe it had something to do with her appearance. Or maybe it was the talking replica in her hands. Or both.

“Oi, brat,” he said, finding his voice for the second time in five minutes. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s a really bad one.”

“I-I’m serious!” Illya declared, assuming a fighting stance. It was an exact copy of his stance, which irked him even more. “I won’t let anyone lay a finger on onii-chan!”

If anyone present had the mood to point out she had just changed her way of addressing Shirou, they kept it to themselves. Saber, however, had let her expression soften a little at the name ‘Illya’.

“I suppose this works out,” Lancer said. “I was thinking I’d feel guilty killing a girl this young, but I think that guilt’s gonna be reduced a bit.”

A gust of wind soared past the yard, and Lancer was gone. Saber just barely reacted in time to his speed, and managed to raise her invisible weapon in an attempt to block his attack, but no such blow came.

Instead, a loud ‘clang’ resounded, and Lancer leapt away from Illya, landing on the roof of the shed. Both were unhurt, though Illya was evidently less composed after the exchange. Not that she had been brimming with composure beforehand.

“Nice reflexes,” Lancer said, narrowing his eyes. “It looks like your appearance isn’t just for show.”

The situation was getting more confusing by the second. No human could combat a Servant. Even amongst Servants, he was confident few Servants could match his speed, but this girl had done just that. And the way she had reacted almost made it feel like he was facing off against himself. It was eerie.

“We need to get closer, Illya-san!” Ruby said. “We have to finish him before he gets to throw that spear!”

“I know, Ruby,” Illya replied. “But going too close will give him the ability to-”

“Interesting conversation,” Lancer said, his expression no longer surprised; he was not looking at Illya as a child or even as a human magus anymore. “From what you just said, it sounds like you know what my spear is. And it looks like that talking fake is more than just a replica.

“Answer me, kid: what are you?”

Illya did not reply. She did not have the confidence that Lancer had, even if they were wielding the same weapon and shared the same techniques; after all, the difference in actual combat experience was staggering. Keeping her eyes on her opponent, she tightened her grip on the spear.

Even though she had never used it in combat, Illya knew what the weapon she held could do. Within that spear lay a vile curse – one that reversed the nature of causality to pierce the target’s heart without fail. All she had to do was call out its name, and victory was certain. It was that powerful an ability.

“Right, I get it,” Lancer said. “Magi need to keep their secrets. Then I suppose it’s fine…”

He lowered his spear, pointing its crimson tip at Illya’s head.

“… If you die keeping them, right?” he finished.

Illya swallowed. She was way too preoccupied with keeping an eye on Saber to also have to juggle facing Lancer at the same time. And she had to keep Shirou out of all of this too. She found herself desperately wishing Miyu and Kuro were here, even if it meant that they, too, would be in danger. But she was just so scared.

Heroic Spirit’s power or no, it did not change the fact that she was still a child. She was – or rather, had been – an ordinary ten-year-old girl. If she could have it her way, she would have wanted to run away. But Shirou was there.

Her white knuckles trembled, causing the spear in her hands to shake. It was a minor detail, one that she believed or hoped that no one would notice, but the least expected person picked up on it.

Heaving a deep sigh, Lancer relaxed his posture, opting for a more neutral standing position. The hostility seemed to drain out of his eyes, but a faint hint of it still lingered in his crimson pupils.

“I give up,” he sighed again. “As if I’d kill a little kid too scared to even fight. Besides,” he added, casting a glance at Saber. “With me being outnumbered like this, I’m not gonna get any answers let alone kills tonight.”

Frustrated or not, he was a warrior and a Heroic Spirit. It left a bad taste in his mouth to have to kill people unrelated to the Holy Grail War, or anyone besides Servants in general, let alone a little brat clearly scared out of her skin. Answers could wait, though he was pretty sure it was going to be something he could not understand anyway; being summoned into an era where ‘technology’ and ‘magecraft’ co-existed had made him stop questioning the bizarre altogether.

“Do you believe I’ll just let you escape, Lancer?” Saber asked, pointing her invisible blade at him.

“My orders aren’t to fight,” Lancer replied. That was partially true; after all, he had been told to engage the Servants purely for scouting purposes thanks to the cowardice of his Master. “I’d be more than willing to oblige if you give chase, but I’d focus on the girl if I were you. You two aren’t exactly allies, are ya?”

With those parting words, Lancer went into astral form, disappearing from their sight and completely gone from Illya’s detection. Had he been in physical form a little longer, he would have sighed in exasperation.

He had not killed a single woman in his life, and disliked killing women on the battlefield. It was as if fate itself knew that and was mocking him for it by putting him on a battlefield of women. Archer’s Master from earlier, these two…

… Bazett.

Had he been in corporeal form, Lancer would have gnashed his teeth in raw fury.

-

Following Lancer’s escape, Illya heaved a sigh of relief. However, that reprieve was short-lived; whipping around and facing Saber, she once more readied her weapon. The fear was naturally still there, but it was now accompanied by a stronger sense of determination.

“Onii-chan, get back,” she said.

“W-wait a minu-”

Before Shirou could even get three words in, Illya had closed the distance between her and Saber, her figure and weapon leaving a trail of blue and red in their wake. Thrusting the tip at the blonde warrior’s face, she felt dull tremors shake the spear as an invisible wall of wind parried her blow.

“Wait a moment!” Saber protested, desperately trying to recall the full name of the girl called Illya. She was sure she had heard it before, back then before the Fourth Holy Grail War. “Please wait, Illyasviel!”

Illya paused. How did she know her name? And what’s more, what was with that weapon of hers? The Class Card back then did not have an invisible sword, but this one did. On top of that, this one even knew her name. Could things get any more confusing?

She must have overheard Miyu calling my name, she reasoned. Miyu hadn’t started calling me ‘Illya’ back then. Yeah, that must be it.

Thrusting and withdrawing the blood-red spear with inhuman speed, Illya forced Saber to retreat a few steps. She was barely dealing damage despite her superior weapon, what with Saber dodging and parrying her blows, but she was making progress. Even if it felt like Saber had no intention of fighting back.

Maybe she can’t fight back! She thought. Putting some distance between them, she poured some prana into her Noble Phantasm. If her regular attacks were already too much for her, then surely this would end it. Time to finish this with a-

“Stop!”

Charging right in and standing between Illya and Saber, Shirou prevented the former from unleashing her killing blow. Though he could easily have ended up being her shield and dying right then and there instead.

“Hold on,” he said. “Fighting amongst ourselves isn’t going to solve anything! Let’s just calm down and talk things through!”

“Move out of the way, onii-chan!” Illya exclaimed. “She’s dangerous! Just listen to me and I’ll end this right away!”

“Master, it would be wise to step aside,” Saber advised. “If she is serious about this battle, it would be safer for you to observe from a distance.”

“There’s no way I could do that!” Shirou said. Then he turned to Illya. “Uh… ‘Illya’, was it? This has to be some sort of misunderstanding! Saber meant no harm; she was trying to protect me!”

“I concur,” Saber added. “This must be a misunderstanding, Illyasviel. I have no intention of hurting my Master-”

“Lies!” Illya cut across her sharply. “You almost killed Rin-san, Luvia-san, Miyu and me back then! If not for Miyu defeating you, you would’ve succeeded! Don’t try and act all innocent now!”

“Please calm down, Illyasviel,” Saber said, trying to maintain her cool. “I have no recollection of such an event. You must be mistaken; I have sworn to be Irisviel’s sword, and I would never lay a hand on-”

“What did you just say?”

An unknown fear gripping her chest, Illya felt the will to fight slowly drain from her system. She could understand knowing her name, but there was no way the Class Card could have known her mother’s name as well.

“No… it’s not possible,” she gasped. “Why do you… know Mama’s name…?”

With that, Saber had her answer. This girl in front of her was undoubtedly Illyasviel von Einzbern, the beloved daughter of her previous Master. She had had her doubts at first upon hearing the name, as she had assumed that the child from back then would surely be a young woman now, not a girl like… like her. But that reaction proved her wrong.

“You are Illyasviel von Einzbern,” she said. It was not a question, but rather a statement. “The child of Irisviel and Emiya Kiritsugu. Is that not so?”

Both Illya and Shirou stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. From the looks on their faces alone, Saber might as well have declared she was actually a man.

“… Who are you?” Illya asked, her voice starting to lose its firm tone. “Why do you know so much about me…?”

“I would not mind answering your enquiry,” Saber replied. “But before that, I implore you to lower your weapon. I believe neither of us have a reason to fight each other, and further exchanges of blows would be most un-”

She suddenly paused, turning sharply to the wall to her side. The reaction vaguely reminded Illya of a lion who had sensed other predators on its territory.

“Enemies,” she informed them. “I shall engage them.”

Without waiting for a reply, she leapt over the wall with ease. The next thing that was heard was a high-pitched yelp, and a rather familiar one at that.

“R-Rin-san?” Illya wondered aloud.

The ensuing cacophony of clashing metal made her break into a run.

Chapter Text

Surrounded by countless soulless copies, Emiya Shirou fell into despair.

He was, as many had once pointed out, just an ordinary human. He was a commonplace existence, buried in the sea of people that flooded the streets. He was not someone who stood out, nor was he a person of significance. All he had was the unbreakable will to chase a certain dream. A dream too grand for fools, and too impossible for the common man.

That dream, was to be a Hero of Justice.

His whole life, he worked endlessly for that dream. Never tiring and never relenting, he poured his entire existence into his one and only goal. He believed wholeheartedly in the impossible wish of saving everyone he came across. There were undoubtedly people who advised him against it, who told him that his wish would never come true, but their efforts were in vain.

After all, how do you save someone who desired to drown?

He was insignificant, and as such was weak. He was commonplace, and thus was incapable of attaining his goal. He was powerless, and so he was unable to defend those he wished to defend. He was powerless, and was ultimately unable to save anyone in his pathetic state. Cursing his own uselessness, the man called Emiya Shirou gave up the peace he would have found in death.

And with that, his dream came true. He was made a Heroic Spirit after his death, one capable of producing miracles to save humanity. He believed earnestly that he could save countless more lives with that power and, in a way, he did.

Desperately clinging to his dream, he had sought to end the war. He could still remember vividly the rivers of pulsating crimson, entangled in the rancid stench of death and metal. He walked through the bowels of Hell on Earth, pleading inside his heart for it to just end as he fought.

And when it did, so did his life.

He had sought the salvation of others, but not his own. He had sought the happiness of others, but not Emiya Shirou’s. For a man so selfless it was painful to watch, it was only natural that his hands came to hold nothing.

He had not expected recognition. He had not expected recompense. He had not even expected gratitude for the things he had done, the sacrifices he had made. And indeed, none of those came his way; the only thing that he faced for his actions, was betrayal.

They named him the culprit. They called him the mastermind. Towards their savior who had braved the horrors of War to end it, they cursed his name. Towards the unsung Hero that was Emiya Shirou, they bore fangs of hatred.

And so the Hero of Justice hung, wronged by the very people he sought to save.

Even so, he held no resentment towards humanity. Even as he met his end painted unjustly as ‘evil’, he did not entertain hate. All he harbored in his heart was a firm determination – one that came to be shattered by the brutal hammer of reality.

He walked past the vermillion-stained wasteland, sprawled beneath an equally endless sky of burning rust. Even the warm glow was blocked out by a dense haze, which rose endlessly and enveloped the surroundings in its toxic shroud. Wisps of black smoke rose from the ground, obscuring any beauty in the scenery, if such a thing even existed in that space. This world – and everything it held and ultimately lacked – was all he had. Countless blades, all nameless and lifeless, littered the landscape, filling the dry earth beneath his feet. The all-too-familiar smell of rusted metal still lingered, haunting him, tormenting him. The thundering silence followed his every step, pounding in his ears and mocking him for the farce he had become.

He was, and always would be, a Hero. A Counter Guardian. A killer doomed to save humanity on the brink of annihilation by taking the lives of others. Bound by fate and cursed by destiny, he would forever have to stain his hands with blood – blood of the people he had wanted to save.

He killed over and over again, his spirit breaking with every merciless arrow fired. He took life after life, saving countless innocent people with every death he brought upon. He carved tragedy after tragedy onto his soul, all for the sake of ‘saving’ humanity. That was the life of a Hero – the life he had sought with all his being.

He had attained his all but impossible dream, and yet the one thought he had was:

I should never have become a Hero.

He had walked across uncountable battlefields, stricken with remorse and wrought with despair. He was undefeated, yet he had never once known ‘victory’. Looking back on the Hell he had created with his own two hands, he saw neither triumph nor hope. Staring at the bodies he had rendered lifeless and limp, he understood. All he had ever created with those hands were soulless copies of weapons, etched across a landscape too sorrowful to behold. It was only natural that he would craft the same thing from living beings as well, leaving nothing but lifeless bodies in his wake.

The countless soulless copies littered the landscape, much like the swords in the world of his imaging. He had stood alone atop a hill of forgeries in that inner world, engulfed by loneliness and surrounded by tools of murder. Now in reality, he knelt upon a hill of death, wrapped in anguish and drowned in regret.

He wanted to cry. He wished to weep, to mourn, to grieve, but he could not; he had long since thrown away his weakness for his selfish ideals, and there was no going back.

Atop the mountain of corpses and ocean of blood, the Hero of Justice cursed his own existence.

-

“Archer!”

Snapping out of his daze, Archer turned to look at the girl he was carrying. Beautiful blue eyes bore into his own, searching his face for some sort of answer, their owner refusing to wait for a verbal reply. She had always been sharp, and he knew that if he did not play it carefully his Master would see right through him.

“What is it, Rin?” he asked defensively.

“You don’t seem to be focusing on the task at hand,” Rin said, almost in a reprimanding manner. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” Archer replied. “I was just getting tired from carrying such a heavy load.”

“Oh, is that right?” Rin asked, smiling sweetly. Even her tone was cheerful, which made her even more endearing to normal men, but that dazzling display somehow caused a chill to run down Archer’s spine. “And what might that ‘load’ be, I wonder?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Archer said hastily. “I’ll manage.”

“Then stop daydreaming and focus!” Rin snapped. She was bossy as ever, though he knew it was to hide the faint blush surely creeping onto her cheeks. Despite her valiant efforts, Rin was still a tsun-

Hastily stopping himself before that thought went any further, Archer prevented himself from thinking that which must never be thought. One simply did not relate Tohsaka Rin to that forbidden word, she may not look it, but she could read minds, and the consequences if she found out were dire.

Before he knew it, he was smiling. Despite the situation, despite the hazy fragments of his dreaded past returning to him, simply being with the woman known as Tohsaka Rin made him feel at ease. Even after all he had gone through, she was still someone in whom he found solace.

Guess some things don’t change, he thought to himself.

A familiar presence closed in, swift and deadly as it advanced towards them. Reaching out with both hands, Archer balled them into fists around thin air – until a pair of curved short swords materialized out of nowhere and into his grip.

The sound of clashing metal echoed through the night, followed by the high-pitched yelp of Rin as she fell on her rear, having been thrown off by Archer’s sudden movements.

“Archer, what gives?!” she snapped, then went silent as she saw the reason with her own eyes.

“Sorry about that,” Archer replied loftily. “But I just didn’t have the luxury of time to set you down.”

His tone was lighthearted, but his gaze was firm. Observing his assailant intently, he tightened his grip on his weapons. Unlike his opponent, whose weapon was hidden behind a wall of wind, his were on full display.

In one hand, a blade of hazy white. In the other, one of smooth black laced with red hexagons. They bore such simple designs, yet in his hands they felt more than just weapons. They lacked an awe-inspiring aura one would expect from Noble Phantasms, but as he wielded them they seemed to become part of his existence; despite clearly not being something holy or demonic, they truly felt like they represented him with their simplicity.

“Shall I engage, Master?” he asked, looking into the eyes of the blonde warrior before him.

Before Rin could reply, someone else entered their field of vision. For a moment, Archer believed that intruder to be someone else – someone he had clashed against not too long ago at the school. That blue outfit, along with that unmistakable crimson spear, surely belonged to-

“R-Rin-san?!”

Archer felt his eyes go wide. He had been expecting a man’s voice, possibly expressing displeasure at having his prey stolen, but certainly not a small, silver-haired girl in revealing clothing. Not to mention he knew that face very well. Oh, how he knew that face.

Blinking blankly a few times as she absorbed the scene, Illya was silent as she tried to make sense of it. Rin was there, as she had expected, but the tall, dark man in the red cloak…

He’s wearing the same clothes as Kuro, she thought.

“Stay back, Illyasviel,” Saber told her. “It’s dangerous. I will take care of-”

Before she could finish, she was interrupted by Shirou charging out of the house behind Illya, a frantic look on his face. Much like the young girl, he just stared at Archer for a few moments, before his mind returned to reality.

“Hold on, Saber!” he said, but it was already too late.

Kicking off the ground with enough force to induce a powerful gust of wind, Saber closed in on Archer, bringing down her invisible blade onto his shoulder. Stepping to the side, Archer brought up his white sword and deflected the blow, throwing off Saber’s sense of balance. Without pause, he leaned forward, swinging the black blade towards her mid-section-

In a shower of sparks, his weapon was parried by the solid wall of wind in Saber’s hands. Breaking her fall by bringing forward one foot and stomping onto the ground, Saber countered Archer’s blow, drew her sword back, and thrust it at his chest. The recoil from her counter had created the tiniest of openings, which no human could exploit, but Saber managed it.

They were Servants, with abilities far beyond human limits. No magus or fighter could keep up with their movements by sight, much less step in to intercept.

No magus, except for maybe one girl.

“Wait!”

A loud clang resounded, and the crimson tip of Gae Bolg pushed aside Saber’s unseen blade, causing it to merely graze Archer’s shoulder as it passed. Withdrawing her weapon and stepping back, Saber readjusted her stance as she glanced at the girl who had intervened. She may not have known it, but Illya stopping her attack had been mostly luck; she had been unable to perfectly keep up with their speed, and had stepped in late merely hoping to put her weapon in between them. While the outcome was somewhat different from what she had expected, Illya still sighed in relief.

“What is the meaning of this, Illyasviel?” she demanded. Illya stood between her and Archer, and she was facing Saber and not the enemy. “They are our enemies! Why would you defend them?”

“Y-you’ve got it wrong!” Illya replied. “Rin-san’s not an enemy! And besides, none of this is making any sense! Let’s just… talk this through!”

“Now is hardly the time for-” Saber began.

“Hmm, I see.”

Speaking in a calm and collected manner, Rin dusted off her clothes as she looked at Shirou – or, more specifically, at the three marks that had appeared on the back of his hand.

“So you’re the seventh,” she mused. She then cast a questioning glance at Illya, who was still in her Lancer Install form.

“T-Tohsaka?” Shirou blurted out.

“Good evening, Emiya-kun,” she said courteously. “And you… I don’t know who you are, but I suppose I owe you a ‘thank you’ for saving my Servant.”

“W-what’re you talking about, Rin-san?” Illya asked. “It’s me, Illya! I-”

She stopped abruptly, as a possible explanation surfaced in her mind. It was a thought she had entertained not too long ago, and one she more or less knew to be the truth now.

She’s the Rin-san from this parallel world, she concluded.

“It seems like some explanations are in order,” Rin sighed. “For now, could you please tell your Servant to put her weapon down?”

“A knight would never lower their weapon in front of an enemy,” Saber said immediately.

“H-hold on, Saber,” Shirou said. “I don’t think they’re our enemies either. Let’s just listen to what she has to say.”

Saber did not change her stance by even an inch. She kept her gaze locked with Archer for a few minutes, before the red Servant broke eye contact and lowered his swords, which faded back into nothing.

“As you can see, I’m now unarmed,” Archer pointed out. “Would it be acceptable for an honorable knight like yourself to cut down a defenseless man?”

Saber hesitated for a little longer, but relented in the end and lowered her weapon. Heaving a sigh of relief, Illya relaxed as well, unaware that Archer was staring at her from behind.

Explanations are in order indeed, he thought.

-

Emiya Shirou was, in every sense of the word, confused. Seated at a table with a twin-tailed supposed magus, a blonde knight who was apparently some magical being, an invisible red-cloaked warrior who made him feel uneasy for some reason, a talking stick and a silver-haired fighter girl, he could not help but feel that he was the odd one out. Not because of his lack of knowledge or ability (though truthfully he could not say he was well-versed in any of this either), but because he was probably the only normal person here.

“Um…” he began nervously. “So I’m supposedly a ‘Master’, and I have to win this thing called the ‘Holy Grail War’?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes,” Rin replied calmly. “As for a more detailed explanation, there’s someone else who can fill you in. For now,” she added, turning to Illya. “I’d like to know who you are and why you have my Mystic Code.”

As far as she knew, that floating wand was supposed to be sleeping in her basement collecting dust, not going around dressing little girls in suggestive clothing. She may be wearing normal clothes now, but after seeing her in that… ‘outfit’, Rin had her doubts about the girl’s sense of shame. Or sanity as a whole.

“I-I’m Illya,” Illya introduced. “I-Illyasviel von-”

“I’m not some personal belonging of Rin-san!” Ruby burst out suddenly. “I’ve long since formed a contract with Illya-san and have sworn allegiance to her cuteness! I won’t fall back into your evil clutches!”

Rin raised an eyebrow.

“R-Ruby, why’re you getting so worked up?” Illya whispered worriedly.

“Of course I’d get worked up!” Ruby replied, her tone oozing with mirth and excitement. “Do you know where this is, Illya-san? There could be another me to fight here! Isn’t that exciting?!”

“Er, no, not really…”

“And are you sure you should be taking it so lightly?!” Ruby said, pointing one of her wings at Illya, curling two of the feathers and pointing the last one like an index finger. “Do you understand the predicament you’re in?!”

“H-huh?” Illya backed away a little. Ruby was quite scary when she was like this, not to mention uncontrollable. “What do you mean?”

You’re surrounded by competition!” Ruby exclaimed impatiently. “Your beloved onii-chan is in grave danger of being stolen from you by thieving cats! Does that not worry you?!”

“W-what’re you talking about?!”

“Look at him!” Ruby said, pointing at a dumbfounded Shirou. “He doesn’t just resemble him physically; that socially awkward aura, that dense-looking expression… He’s the very mirror image of the brother who fills your life with roses and rainbows!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and it feels like you just said something very rude!”

“Are you really not afraid of the competition?!” Ruby went on, clearly enjoying Illya’s reaction. “While it’s true that a twin-tailed tsundere hag and a foreign washboard ahoge aren’t particularly dangerous competitors, they can still potentially win the heart of your onii-chan if you let your guard down!”

Illya would have replied, but the dangerous vibe emanating from Rin completely shut her up. Her eyebrow raised so high it was in danger of disappearing into her hair, the Tohsaka magus had a slight smile tugging at her lips, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. Even Shirou edged away from her a little.

Archer was torn between laughing and finding a nuclear shelter to hide in. Under the argument that with three fighters gathered together, there was no need to keep watch, he had joined in on the discussion intent on getting some answers, but this was getting out of hand.

“Emiya-kun, Emiya-san,” Rin said in a sweet, gentle tone. “Do you mind if I smash that stick to smithereens?”

“Master, I too would like to partake in the destruction of that accursed object,” Saber added. She was calm, but her eyes were blazing with fury. “I feel that I have just been ridiculed, and that it has defiled my honor as a knight. I cannot let this stand.”

“Wait, Saber!” Shirou said hastily as Saber rose to her feet. “L-let’s not fight amongst ourselves!”

“T-that’s right!” Illya added, grabbing Ruby. “Ruby, I need you to keep quiet before we all die! Read the mood a little!”

“Tch,” Ruby hissed. “You really don’t know how to play along, Illya-san…”

“I tend not to when my life’s at risk!” Illya retorted.

“Well, that aside,” Rin said, maintaining her air of dignity (though she was still shooting occasional dirty looks at Ruby) and composure befitting of a Tohsaka magus. “It doesn’t look like this is the same Mystic Code I have; you don’t seem like someone who could break into my home and escaping undetected anyway.”

“Um… Thank you?” Illya asked uncertainly.

“I wasn’t praising you,” Rin said flatly, making the small girl whimper. “But from the looks of it, you and your brother seem to share the same bad luck when it comes to magecraft…”

“Oh, she’s not my-” Shirou began.

“Master,” Saber said loudly, cutting across him. “I believe that is enough idle chatter. Rin mentioned that there is someone else who can fill you in on the details of the Holy Grail War. We should go see this person at once. Further explanations about you and Illyasviel can wait until after that.”

Shirou stared at her for a moment, then he understood. Regardless of how things were now, Rin was still an enemy in Saber’s eyes. There was no need to correct any misunderstandings she had, and Illya’s identity – which Saber seemed to know – should be kept a secret from potential foes.

“I-I understand,” Shirou nodded. “But before that, could you stop with the ‘Master’ stuff? You can just call me ‘Shirou’.”

“Shirou,” Saber repeated. “… Yes, that would be preferred. I shall call you that from now on.”

“Great,” Shirou replied, blushing a little. He just could not help it; she was a beautiful woman after all.

Illya, watching their exchange from the table, felt a pang of jealousy towards the blonde. Even if she was their ally now, and Shirou was not actually her Shirou, it did not give her the right to seduce him.

“All right then, let’s go already,” Rin said irritably. Saber’s response was only to be expected, but with Shirou’s inexperience, she had expected to get some useful information out of them before going to see the bogus priest. Guess that hope was out the window now. “It’s almost two in the morning; he may be a shady person but even he sleeps from time to time. Probably.”

Out of sight in his astral form, Archer wanted to sigh. He still lacked answers and, while he too thought that further talk was pointless with this group of buffoons, he could not help but feel disappointed.

And at the same time, he could not stave off the incoming wave of unease.

-

“Um… Saber… san?”

Turning around at the mention of her name, Saber looked at the tiny girl that was Illya as she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt. She was behaving shyly, which was the complete opposite of just a while before when she was attempting to kill her. She actually looked even smaller now, though the white shirt and normal-looking skirt (from her school uniform) were improvements compared to her ‘combat attire’.

“What is the matter?” she asked. “If you are looking for Shirou, he is in his room changing.”

“N-no, I wanted to talk to you, actually,” Illya replied meekly, refusing to meet Saber’s eyes. “I… I have something I’ve got to say to you.”

Saber, unable to tell where this conversation was going, kept silent and waited for her to continue.

“That is… Um… I-I’m sorry!” Illya apologized, bowing her head to the Servant.

Saber blinked once. Twice. She just could not think of what to say.

“Illyasviel?” she said. Or questioned. She was not quite sure.

“I attacked you thinking you were the enemy,” Illya said. “You didn’t mean any harm but I didn’t believe you and… I called you a liar. I…”

Finally understanding her intentions, the surprise instantly vanished from Saber’s face, replaced by a gentle smile. Illya’s words trailed off, eventually becoming inaudible mutters as she kept her head down.

“Please raise your head, Illyasviel,” Saber said. “I understand that you were merely acting to protect Shirou and had no vile intentions. As such, I bear no ill will towards you. There is no need for you to apologize.”

“B-but-”

“There is no need for you to feel any guilt,” Saber assured her. “Your actions and bravery should be something you can be proud of. So please raise your head; that expression does not suit you.”

Slowly, Illya raised her head, only to find that Saber was smiling at her. That smile was ever so slight, but it was unbelievably warm and reassuring. It reminded her of her mother.

“I promise you that I will protect you and Shirou with this life of mine,” Saber said. “As I have sworn to Irisviel before and Shirou in this War, I will defend the two of you from any enemy. Let us work together and emerge victorious.”

“Y-yeah!” Illya replied. She was starting to see why Shirou was so captivated by her; she was just so… charismatic. “I look forward to working with you, Saber-san!”

She extended her hand for a handshake, which took Saber by surprise for a moment. Although somewhat taken aback by the gesture, she reciprocated, taking the small girl’s hand in her own.

“The pleasure is mine, Illyasviel,” she said. “And please, just ‘Saber’ will suffice; honorifics are unnecessary.”

“Um, about that…” Illya muttered. “Could you call me ‘Illya’ instead? My name’s kinda long, so my friends just call me that for short.”

“… I understand,” Saber replied. “If that is what you wish, I shall call you by that name from now on. Illya.”

The smile on Illya’s face was so radiant Saber herself smiled a little wider. The child was innocent, cheerful, albeit with a little stubbornness – exactly like how she remembered the Illyasviel von Einzbern from ten years ago.

She truly is your daughter, Irisviel, she thought.

-

Kirei resisted the urge to sigh. He already knew that Servants – or rather, Heroic Spirits in general – had a peculiar obsession with fighting strong opponents. When they found someone they deemed ‘worthy’, they would willingly give up their victory in the long run just to have a bout. Lancer was no exception to that irrationality- or it might be more accurate to say that he was even more irrational than that.

If the average Servant was stubborn, then Lancer was the epitome of that ‘quality’. He was the kind to not back down even when he was losing – a trait he showed off ever so briefly when Kirei had taken care of his previous Master. If not for a Command Spell, Lancer would have gone wild at the school and against Saber. While he cared not for the Servant’s well-being, Kirei simply did not want to be inconvenienced by the loss of his scout.

“You seem to be in a bad mood,” he said, almost cheerfully.

“You bet I am,” an irritated voice echoed throughout the empty church. Materializing out of the darkness, Lancer glared at his Master as the latter kept his back turned to him. “I’ve had to walk away from two battles now because of your ‘tactics’, so yeah, I’m pissed.”

“Worry not, Lancer,” Kirei replied. “It’s all for our victory in the end. You do wish to win, do you not?”

“Yeah, I want to win it,” Lancer spat. “But if that means acquiring it after everyone else has killed each other off, then I don’t want it; that’s not winning – that’s just a worthless handout.”

“There is no need to make a fuss,” Kirei said. “You will get your chance soon. Charging blindly into battle without a plan is the height of foolishness, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lancer said dismissively. He knew talking to Kotomine Kirei was a waste of his breath, and was starting to doubt his own sagacity in trying to reason with him. “Just make sure you show me you’re motivated to do this before my patience runs out, Kotomine.”

His physical form disappeared, but his seething anger most certainly did not. Filling the small space and coiling around Kirei, it threatened to crush him with its pressure. While it was easily enough to make any normal man shake in his boots, Kirei merely scoffed and paid it no heed.

“Now, then…” he muttered. “I guess I should prepare to welcome some guests.”

-

“Is Saber not coming in with us?”

Stopping just outside the entrance to the church Rin had brought them, Shirou turned to look at his Servant. Saber stood outside the gates like a guard, and it looked like she had no intention of budging from that spot.

“Well, maybe it’s because this is the mediator’s place,” Rin shrugged. “The church is a neutral place, so Masters aren’t supposed to get hostile here. Sending familiars to observe this place is also forbidden, so needless to say Servants aren’t allowed either.”

“I never knew there was a church here,” Illya wondered aloud. “I wonder what sort of person the priest is?”

“He’s a hedonistic prick,” Rin said immediately, a look of disgust on her face. “And don’t think he’s religious either; he’s a true blue false priest.”

“E-er…” Illya mumbled uncertainly. The look in Rin’s eyes and her tone reminded her of the Rin she knew whenever she spoke of Luvia, except it felt more… serious.

Following Rin in as she pushed open the doors, Illya found herself no longer able to think about things like that. The moment she stepped into the church, the air changed, making it feel like she was walking in water even though nothing appeared out of the ordinary. It almost felt like the inside of the church was a space separated from the rest of reality entirely.

“After turning down my many invitations, you decide to turn up with some interesting guests.”

Standing at the far end of the room was a tall man draped in black, whose figure almost melted into the darkness around him. Had he not spoken, Illya might not have noticed him standing there at all.

“So, I take it that he’s the seventh, Rin?” the priest asked, glancing at Shirou and the marks on his hand. Then he turned to look at Illya. “And who might she be?”

Illya instinctively backed away from him. She was not sure why, but the moment he stepped into the moonlight and exposed his face, she felt a strong sense of danger assaulting her. The man had done nothing – he did not show expression or even move; all he did was look at her briefly and ask a common question – and yet she still found herself wanting to run away.

“Well, I guess I should introduce myself first,” the priest said. “I am Kotomine Kirei, the mediator of this Holy Grail War. What is your name, seventh Master?”

“Emiya Shirou,” Shirou replied hesitantly. “And she is-”

“I’m his sister,” Illya cut in. “I-I’m Illya.”

“Emiya…” the man called Kirei ruminated. “I see. And you, young man – I presume you are the Master of Saber?”

“Yeah, I made a pact with her,” Shirou replied. “But I don’t know anything about this Holy Grail war business. If a Master’s supposed to be magus of some sort, then you’ve got the wrong guy. You should probably pick someone else.”

“I see,” Kirei muttered. “This is serious indeed.”

“He’s a complete outsider as far as this is concerned,” Rin added. “As for the girl, I don’t know what to make of her yet, so fill them in on this from the very beginning.”

“Very well,” Kirei replied easily. “This is the first time you’ve sought my assistance, after all.”

Rin turned away at that comment, looking rather disgruntled. Illya would have thought about how she resembled the proud Rin-san she knew, but she was distracted by Kirei walking towards them.

“Emiya Shirou,” he said. “I regret to inform you, but the status of being a Master cannot be yielded to another. Once conferred, it isn’t something which you can walk away from. You can think of this as a trial you’ve been chosen to undergo, and until you see it through to the end, you will not be free of it. That is what it means to be in the Holy Grail War.”

“So I’ve gotten myself into a seven-way battle where mages try to kill each other?” Shirou asked, a more serious look donning his eyes. It took Illya by surprise; she had never seen her own onii-chan make that face before.

“It is a ritual to select the one who is worthy to hold the Holy Grail,” Kirei replied.

“U-um,” Illya spoke up, causing everyone to turn towards her. She instantly regretted opening her mouth as Kirei shifted his attention towards her, but what was done was done. “B-by Holy Grail, do you mean that Holy Grail? The one that appears in anim- I-I mean, the one that appears in legends and myths? Is this thing… the real thing?”

She had been told that the Holy Grail was no more, and that no more war would occur over it. The reason Kuro had been created was for that absurd ritual, which in this parallel world was apparently not stopped. Who, then, was the ‘Kuro’ in this world?

“The Grail that appears in this town is indeed the genuine article,” Kirei replied, unperturbed by her nervousness. “As proof, there is the exceptional miracle that is the existence of Servants. A Holy Grail capable of this can surely grant its holder limitless power.”

“T-then why do the Masters have to fight each other?” she asked. She was no magus, and she was not even an adult, but even she could see that something that powerful could surely be shared amongst everyone. “Wouldn’t it be better if everyone just used it together?”

“A fair opinion,” Kirei said flatly. “However, only one may claim the Grail. It is not us who decided this, but rather the Grail itself. This is all the work of the Grail; it selects its true owner by having the Masters fight to win it. That is the Holy Grail War.”

“I can’t just accept that,” Shirou said. “I don’t see why the Masters have to kill each other just for something like this.”

“Hold on, Emiya-kun,” Rin interjected. “We don’t necessarily have to kill each other.”

“It’s a fight to the death,” Kirei said calmly. The way he attached no emotion of any sort to the topic of death unnerved Illya.

“You hush, Kirei!” Rin snapped. “Listen, Emiya-kun. The Holy Grail in this city is a spiritual object, and since it’s intangible, we cannot touch it; only spiritual beings like Servants can. The point of the Holy Grail War is to get rid of all the other Servants, so it’s not necessary for you to kill the other Masters as well.”

So Servants are spiritual beings? Illya thought. Then if I used the Caster Card’s Include, I could defeat them a lot faster! I could-

She paused. She had never tested the Caster Class Card’s Include before, so how did she know what it could do? The card’s abilities should have been a mystery to her, but she was somehow able to recall what it could do. Did it have something to do with those periods of time where she just blanked out?

“Emiya Shirou,” Kirei spoke up once more, breaking Illya’s train of thought. “I ask you, do you think you can defeat your Servant?”

“What?”

“Servants are difficult to defeat, even with a Servant of your own,” Kirei went on. “So if that’s the case, what will you do? It’s simple, is it not? Regardless of how powerful the Servant is, it will vanish alongside its Master when the latter dies. In which case…”

“… Killing the Master is the faster way,” Shirou finished, albeit reluctantly.

“Exactly,” Kirei nodded. “And even if a Master loses their Servant but remains alive, they still possess their rights as a Master as long as their Command Seals exist. In other words, should there be another Servant without a Master, it can rejoin the battle by forming a pact with this Master who lost their Servant. It is for this very reason that Masters seek to kill other Masters.”

“Then what if I use up all my Command Seals here?”

Both Rin and Illya turned to stare at Shirou for his declaration. They were half expecting it to be a joke, but there was not a modicum of humor in Shirou’s eyes as he said those words.

“Indeed, your rights as a Master would be lost,” Kirei said, nodding. “However, I cannot imagine a mage using magic as powerful as a Command Seal so wastefully. If they were to, they would be merely a coward, nothing more.

“If you wish to withdraw from the War, you are free to do so,” Kirei added, chuckling a little at Shirou’s agitation. “Simply use up your Command Seals and break your contract with Saber. If you do so, I shall guarantee your safety until the Holy Grail War’s end.”

“Why would I need you to guarantee my safety?” Shirou retorted.

“I was dispatched here to oversee this cycle of Holy Grail Wars,” Kirei answered. “Safeguarding mages that are no longer Masters are my top priority.”

Wait a minute, Illya thought, a strange chill running up her spine. Did he just say ‘this cycle’…?

“H-hang on,” Shirou said, as though he too had suddenly realized something important. “You said ‘cycle’… Is the Holy Grail War not something that was started just now?”

“This is the fifth one,” Kirei said loftily. “The previous one was ten years ago, so this is the shortest cycle yet.”

“This thing has happened four times before now?” Shirou gasped.

“Yes,” Kirei answered calmly. “Each time, the Holy Grail War has grown still more brutal. Driven by their own desires, Masters have engaged in indiscriminate slaughter.”

“T-then what if the Grail went to one of the bad guys?” Illya asked timidly.

“It is beyond our abilities to stop someone from being chosen by the Grail,” Kirei said. “It is, after all, an omnipotent wish-granting chalice. If that thought irks you, you merely have to win it yourself. Of course, since you don’t appear to be a Master, it is up to that young man over there. That is, if he does not relinquish his rights as a Master right here.”

“I…” Shirou muttered. “I have no reason to fight.”

“Shirou…” Illya stared at her brother-not-brother, unsure of what to say. As much as she did not want to be in this crazy battle, she could not just sit by and watch it all from the sidelines either. Shirou was right; they had no reason to fight, but could they just abandon it like it had nothing to do with them, even if it really was just that?

“So you have no interest in what the Grail’s holder does, even if disaster is the result?” Kirei asked. “Well, it is of no matter to me. If you have no reason to fight, then it is fine. Then I take it you also have no interest in the events of ten years ago?”

“Ten… years ago?”

“Yes,” Kirei said. “At the end of the previous War, an unworthy Master touched the Grail. I know not what that Master wished for, but we can only see the aftermath of the resultant disaster.”

“Wait a minute,” Shirou gasped, his face going deathly pale. “Are you saying…”

He did not continue, but Kirei nodded regardless.

“That’s right,” he said. “The New Fuyuki fire, with the cause still unknown, was the aftermath of the Holy Grail War.”

“S-Shirou!”

Stepping forward to catch her brother as he almost collapsed, Illya helped push him to his feet. He had a look in his eyes that she had never seen before – it was a haunted look that did not belong on the face of Emiya Shirou, and an expression that would never find its way into Illya’s life. At least, not before her life had been turned upside down by magic.

This person… is not onii-chan, she could not help but think. He’s… traumatized.

“Y-you said that this is the fifth one, right?” Shirou asked, standing a little firmly. The look of fear did not vanish from his face, and Illya could not help but edge away from him a little; the Shirou he knew would never wear an expression like that. It was just so wrong. “Has anyone ever won the Grail before?”

“One man did indeed hold the Grail, albeit briefly,” Kirei replied. “However, nothing happened to him; that Grail did not achieve completion, and as a result of that foolish man letting sentiment get the better of him… In any case,” he added, “Simply causing the Grail to appear is simple. Once the seven Masters are gathered, it will appear in time. As Rin says, it’s not necessary to kill the other Masters. However, unless you do so, the Grail will not be complete. It chooses its rightful wielder, and that was why that man, who avoided fighting, did not win the Grail.”

“Hmph,” Rin scoffed. “In other words, if you don’t finish off the other Masters, the Grail is meaningless. It just means the Master who got his hands on it in the last War was weak.”

For reasons unknown, Illya could not bring herself to agree with Rin’s assessment. While it seemed logical and was probably right, she just could not agree with it.

“That’s all I have to say,” Kirei concluded. “Whether or not you decide to participate in the Holy Grail War, let us decide it here, Emiya Shirou.”

The room went silent, as every pair of eyes rested on the boy with auburn hair. For what felt like hours, the man called Emiya Shirou did not speak.

-

“Rejoice, young man.”

Pausing in their tracks as they proceeded to leave the church, Shirou turned to look at Kirei, who had made that odd statement.

“Your wish will, at last, come true,” he said. “Surely you’ve realized it, but your wish cannot come true without a clear and distinct evil. Even if you refuse to admit it, a hero of justice must have an evil to defeat.”

“That’s not… true…”

For the briefest of moments, Kirei looked surprised. It was not the denial of what he had said that surprised him, but rather the person who had uttered those words.

“That’s just… wrong,” Illya muttered. “A hero shouldn’t be someone who wishes for evil; he’s someone who protects others. Even if there’s no evil, you can still become a hero of justice! To wish for evil just to become a hero is just… it’s just wrong…”

Feeling a soft hand on her head, Illya looked up in surprise. Shirou patted her head gently, giving her a reassuring smile as he ushered her along. It was a wordless exchange, but there was much gratitude words could not express in there.

“Shirou, have you concluded your business here?” Saber asked as they stepped out of the gate.

“Yeah,” Shirou replied. “And I… I’ve decided to fight as a Master. Will you consent to that, Saber?”

“My consent is irrelevant,” Saber smiled. “From the start, you have been my Master. Did I not swear that I would be your blade?”

“Right,” Shirou said, holding out his right hand. “Then I shall become your Master. I’m counting on you from here on out.”

Saber looked at his outstretched hand in mild surprise, and then proceeded to take it in her own.

“You truly are siblings,” she said.

“Huh?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Saber replied. “Allow me to renew my vow. So long as the Command Seals reside with you, I shall serve as your blade, Shirou.”

“What’s with this overly dramatic turn of events?” Ruby asked, floating between them. “Is this the manner in which knights court their targets? How sly~”

“Ruby! Read the mood!”

“Oh my, there’s no need to be embarrassed, Illya-san,” Ruby replied. “You won’t lose in any form of appeal, not with my help in the costume department-”

“I thought I told you not to bring that up!”

Rin sighed. Being with this rowdy group of morons was going to shorten her lifespan. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, another person’s voice cut sharply into her thoughts.

“Hey, are you done chatting?”

It was a very familiar voice. In fact, it was the voice of the silver-haired girl in front of her right now, arguing with her overly talkative Mystic Code. However, there were two things off about it: one, it sounded far more cold and humorless.

And two, it had come from behind her.

Whipping her head around, Rin only barely managed to capture the appearance of Illya in different clothes before her attention was robbed by the hulking giant beside her.

“Now then,” Illyasviel said with a smile that resembled nothing of Illya’s. “I guess I’ll kill you now.”

Rin was beyond worrying about the girl looking like Illya. At this point, she was rooted with fear, completely intimidated by the mass of muscle and bloodlust that was Berserker. It was a monstrosity beyond human understanding, and she was not sure if the Servant itself had ever been human at any point in its life. How was she supposed to kill something like that?

“Get them, Berserker.”

-

Kirei sighed. He knew that Masters were generally people who did not bother with rules, but to fight right outside the church was certainly a first. Not that he cared, since he was breaking the rules himself.

“Lancer,” he called out.

“What?” Lancer snapped irritably, manifesting himself in front of him. “You want me to ‘observe’ some more? It’s happening right at your doorstep; do it yourself.”

“I think not,” Kirei replied. “I do not know what that young girl is, but it would not do if the vessel for the Grail is destroyed.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to secure the young girl,” Kirei replied smoothly. “You can kill her if you have to, but keep the heart; I don’t want her to be smashed to pieces by Berserker.”

“Such a heart of gold,” Lancer said, his every syllable dripping with sarcasm. “Well, whatever. I take it that means I can join in the fight this time?”

“Do as you deem fit,” Kirei replied.

Lancer said nothing, and instead headed for the door. Even though he would never admit it outright, for that one moment, he was actually thankful for the opportunity to join in the War.

Looks like I might be getting in on the action after all.

Chapter Text

The night breeze was soothing, but on nights like this it was just a distraction. He would have dearly loved to let it caress his skin as he gazed at the moon, but tonight he could not. He had merely wished to soak in the moon’s gentle glow upon those steps, but he was denied even that simple reprieve.

The otherwise gentle breeze now crawled along his face, gnawing at his nerves as it slithered through his hair. The formless force whispered in his ears, its unmistakable jeer ringing against his eardrums. On any other night, he would have found the sensation blissful – every gust a breath of fresh air and every sound a calming lullaby – but tonight, they were warped, twisted, urging him to lose his focus and to drop his weapon. As much as he wanted to, he did not relent. Or, more accurately, could not relent.

The power of her command was great, and the order absolute. He would have wanted to just continue sitting there and admiring the moon, but his body had moved on its own upon sensing an approaching presence. The vile magecraft coursed through his body, burning through every drop of blood to fulfill that wretched woman’s decree.

Whoever they were, he or she was trying to hide. It was not a very well done job, but at least they were putting in effort. There was no presence that suggested they were not alone, so the intruder was not a Master, and from their energy certainly no Servant. But for someone to visit the temple this late at night?

“Tis a poor night for hiding amongst the shadows,” he called out, his weapon drawn and ready. The steps leading to the main gate were rather well-lit, and he stood right in front of the entrance. No intruder would be getting past him as long as he drew breath. “How about showing yourself? It would be such a waste of exquisite moonlight otherwise.”

As though responding to his words, a lone figure walked out of the bushes and onto the stone steps. Every footstep echoed ever so briefly as the person advanced, their gait confident and calm. There was no haste nor worry in the way they walked, as though being found out had not affected them in the least.

“I was beginning to think my scouting of the area would not yield anything,” the person said. A woman, though there was something off about her voice; it might be because of the era he was summoned in, but she lacked the air of refinement proper ladies were supposed to have when they spoke. Not that her suit and long pants made her look feminine either. “But it seems this may not be a wasted trip after all.”

“If possible, I’d like for you to withdraw from this place,” he said. “I would rather admire a delicate flower than cut it down, you see.”

“It is most unfortunate, but I have not been brought up to be delicate,” the woman said, continuing to ascend the staircase. “If you would protect this place, then there must be something of value here. I will have you step aside.”

“Such unladylike words that do not suit your visage,” the man sighed. “Very well. If you will not retreat, then I too shall not give way. As the guardian of this gate, I shall not let you pass.”

“So be it,” she said.

Staring down at the fighter that was Bazett Fraga McRemitz, the Servant Assassin raised his sword.

-

For a brief moment, nobody moved. It was not so much the effect of a spell or curse as it was a natural phenomenon. It was something very simple, yet very powerful at the same time – fear.

The sheer presence of that monster was towering. Easily over two meters tall, with taut muscles that seemed almost unable to contain his own strength, the mass of bloodlust and violence could hardly be described as ‘human’. It was the very embodiment of raw power, a force of nature that left nothing standing in its wake. Even without moving, it exuded enough pressure to crush a normal human being.

Saber reacted first. Stepping in front of the group, she drew her invisible sword and cast aside her cloak. She opened her mouth to tell Shirou and Illya to stay back, only to leave it hanging open as her eyes rested on Berserker’s Master.

“I… Illya?” she gasped.

Illyasviel narrowed her eyes. Saber’s comment did not escape her notice, but she was unable to say anything about it; before she could, Berserker had already reached where the blonde Servant stood, with his humongous weapon in mid-swing towards her head.

Blocking the blow head on, Saber could not help but wince. Berserker’s strike was powerful – more than enough to pulverize her upon contact – and it took all she had just to meet that one attack.

Too heavy, she assessed in her head. I have no chance if I block him directly. If that’s the case…!

Shifting her weapon such that it was slanted to one side, Saber redirected Berserker’s sword to slide down her blade and crash onto the ground.

With a loud noise akin to an explosion, the axe sword buried itself into the asphalt. Chunks of the pavement flew into the air followed by a cloud of dust and debris, and the resultant shockwave almost blew Saber away.

Unfazed, the blonde Servant leapt onto Berserker’s sword, avoiding the giant’s free hand as it made an attempt to grab her. Wasting no time, she dashed forward and thrust her invisible blade towards the monster’s heart. A flash of gold shone very briefly, and was immediately obscured by a spurt of blood from Berserker’s chest.

“Howl, Invisible-”

Before Saber could do anything else, Berserker moved. Had he tried to leave his weapon, it would not have changed the result. Had he tried reaching for Saber with his free hand, she would have finished him off without giving the chance. But he had done neither of those things.

He had let go of his weapon.

With a bestial roar that shook the air, Berserker slammed away Saber’s sword, drawing a jet of fresh blood as it went. Before the swordswoman could regain her balance, he leaned forward and rammed a massive fist into her chest.

Saber, unable to evade the blow, was lifted off her feet and crashed into a nearby tree so fast the pain only registered after she slid off the trunk and onto the ground. Coughing up some blood, she quickly got to her feet, although her actions were somewhat clumsy and shaky.

“Saber!” Illya and Shirou shouted at the same time.

“Ruby!” Illya called. “Transform! Right now!”

“Roger!” Ruby chirped, although there was a slight bit of urgency in her voice this time. In a shower of glittery sparkles and feathers, a pink-and-white outfit replaced Illya’s clothes, complete with a pair of pink boots and feather-shaped hairclips.

“Wha-” Shirou, with the decency of any normal boy, just gawked at Illya in open shock. He did not know exactly what to expect when the talking stick started glowing, but he definitely was not expecting Illya’s clothes to disintegrate and leave her naked for a few seconds. He was unable to dwell on the subject, however, what with their lives being in danger and all.

“Shirou, stay back!” Illya told him. It was getting repetitive by now, and that was not a good sign.

“What’re you talking about?!” Shirou exclaimed. If anyone was going to help Saber, it had to be him, and definitely not a little girl like Illya. Who in their right mind would make a kid like her fight anyway? “You can’t fight against something like that!”

“Maybe not, but I can try,” Illya replied nervously. “If I work together with Saber, I might be-”

“You’d best give up on that idea.”

Eliciting a terrified shriek from Illya, Lancer raised a hand in greeting, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. The Servant in blue had appeared out of nowhere, literally manifesting himself out of thin air. Shirou instantly stood between him and Illya, but he did not make a move.

“Yo,” he said. When neither sibling returned his greeting or dropped their guard, he sighed. “Man, it really hurts my reputation when a bunch of kids are this scared of me. Do I look that scary to you?”

“W-what do you want?” Illya asked. “I-if you want to fight, I’ll-”

“Hold on a sec,” Lancer said hastily. “I came here to battle that big thing, not to pick a fight with you. I figured I should say something to you, or that ojou-chan might decide to blast me along with that blockhead.”

“Are you saying you’re on our side?” Shirou asked, struggling to keep Illya from jumping in front of him instead.

“What? Of course not,” Lancer replied, as though Shirou had just asked an unbelievably stupid question. “It’s my Master’s order, so it just means our interests are similar right now. Well, at least until that giant’s out of the picture. Now then…” he trailed off for a moment, turning towards Saber and Berserker. There was a flame burning in his eyes, and a dangerous smile on his lips. Despite appearing human, Illya thought he looked like a wolf that had found fresh prey. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a fight to join.”

And with that, he disappeared. This time, however, it was different from when he escaped back at the Emiya Residence; rather than going into astral form, he had simply moved too fast for the naked eye to track.

Saber hastily regained her footing as she broke her fall, narrowly avoiding Berserker’s blows. Berserker was, despite his Class, incredibly agile. Granted, it was not her first time clashing with a Mad-Enhanced Servant, but this one was much more than she could handle.

With an earth-shaking roar, Berserker closed the distance between them in one leap, bringing down his weapon and its jagged edges upon her battered frame. Just as she raised her sword to parry the blow, a blue blur entered her field of vision.

The screech of metallic impact reverberated in her ears, and all of a sudden Lancer was there, blocking Berserker’s weapon with his own. He was clearly having trouble as well, but he still turned to give Saber a cocky grin.

“Yo, Saber,” he said, acting as though the giant in front of him was not actively trying to kill them. “Having trouble?”

“Lancer,” Saber voiced out her own disbelief. “Why are you-”

“Save the questions for later,” Lancer cut her off, as Berserker withdrew his weapon for another attack. “We have to take care of this guy first.”

Before Saber could reply, Berserker lunged forward once more.

-

Illyasviel watched the battle rage on with mild interest. She knew that her Berserker was the strongest, but she had not expected things to be this easy. Of all the Servants, Saber was supposed to be the strongest, but she was putting up a pathetic display. Sure, she was able to counter Berserker’s blows for the most part, but that was it. She would not be able to kill him, so victory was simply a matter of time. Even with that Lancer getting in his way, Berserker would make mincemeat of them soon enough. She did not really care much for winning the war - exploring the outside world was way more fun - but it was a good opportunity to show off her Berserker's strength to everyone.

“Hey!”

That voice, irksome as ever, interrupted her train of thought. Other than the voice itself, nothing was right about the way she spoke. Even without looking, Illyasviel could tell that it was her doppelganger that had yelled, and it bothered her; listening to her own voice sound so stupid just felt so revolting.

“What do you want?” she asked blithely. She had lost all interest in that cheap fake, and was now more curious about Saber. It was a childish sort of curiosity, but she just had to know how the blonde warrior knew her name. Not just her name, either – the name which only a few people could call her by.

“Why are you doing this?” Illya asked. “Can’t you see he’s hurting her?! Make him stop!”

“Why should I?” Illyasviel asked back. “They’re Servants. They’re familiars meant to kill each other for the Holy Grail, aren’t they? What’s wrong with letting them fight to the death?”

“That’s wrong,” Illya gasped. “That’s just twisted! They have feelings too! Don’t treat them like some tools!”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Illyasviel said in a low, dangerous tone as she turned to face Illya for the first time. “And what’s with that outfit? Are you trying to mock me even more?”

“That’s not it!” Illya denied. “I know that’s what it looks like, but I’m not pretending to be you! I… It might sound ludicrous, but I’m actually from another world. My name is Illyasviel von-”

“-von Einzbern, right?” Illyasviel finished for her. “Of course. Do you really think I’ll just believe something like that?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but please listen to me!” Illya begged. “Just stop that Berserker and let’s talk this through!”

“Why?” Illya paused. That one word and tone took her by surprise, and for a brief moment she was unable to respond. Even when she did, all she managed was:

“Huh?”

“Why do you care so much about that Servant?” Illyasviel asked. “You’re clearly not even a Master, so you’re unrelated to the War. Why do you care what happens to her?”

It was not as if she understood the reason, and was just asking out of spite; Illyasviel held a genuine curiosity about her counterpart’s apparent concern for a mere familiar. There was no reason to get attached to those things, and they were just by-products of simple magecraft. What was there to care about?

“Because she’s my friend!” Illya replied earnestly. “And I don’t want to see my friends getting hurt! Isn’t it the same for you? That Berserker is your friend, right? So why are you not concerned about him?”

If she was to be honest, Illyasviel wanted to laugh. The idea of treating Servants like actual human beings – like friends, no less – instead of the tools they were was ridiculous. It was even more ridiculous when she considered the fact that the one saying it was a copy of her. It was all just a bad joke.

And yet, she could not help but think about those words. What would she do if Berserker was hurt? She should not be bothered, since she could heal him, and even if he died once or twice it was not a cause for concern. So why did that thought keep surfacing in her head?

Wordlessly, she stole a glance at her Servant. Overwhelmed by the team of Saber and Lancer, Berserker was forced to his knees and was barely moving. Even in that state, he still reached for Saber, but the latter had already driven her blade of wind into his chest. With a majestic howl, the wind surrounding her weapon roared to life, tearing apart a section of Berserker’s chest.

In that one instant, Illyasviel panicked, almost calling out for her fallen protector. It was only then, when her Servant’s carcass began giving off a queer energy, that she finally came back to her senses and regained her composure. Watching the Servants heave a sigh of relief at killing her Servant, she almost laughed. Not just at their stupidity, but also at how unbecoming it was of her to have been swayed by those pointless words. Only a child would fall for such a stupid trick.

I didn’t fall for it, she convinced herself inside her head. I didn’t fall for it. I’m better than that.

Berserker would not lose to anyone. He was the strongest in the world. There was not a single person who could match him, so concern was unnecessary. There was no reason or need for her to embrace that kind of weakness. She had been hurt, deceived, broken by Kiritsugu because she had been weak, and it was never going to happen again.

“Enough playing around,” she said. “Finish them off, Berserker.”

As though responding to her wishes, the corpse that had been Berserker moved. It was most certainly dead, but despite that the Mad Servant still managed to stand. The grievous wound inflicted by Saber, which had surely killed him, healed itself almost instantly, piecing together his body and leaving not a single scar.

“Regeneration?” Saber wondered aloud, shock filling her face and voice. “No… It’s resurrection… A curse that revives the target after death…!”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Lancer said. “Though it wouldn’t be interesting otherwise. It wouldn’t be a challenge if he went down so easily.”

“Lancer,” Saber said. “If what you said is true, then I presume I can consider you an ally until this foe is vanquished?”

“Do what you want,” Lancer replied, smirking. “Just don’t get in my way, and don’t die until I kill you myself.”

“Very well,” Saber, despite the situation, smiled. “Then I shall-”

Her words were interrupted by Illya, who had decided to enter the fray herself. Standing between the towering giant and two other Servants, the little girl looked even smaller than before, and that was saying a lot.

“Illya?!”

“I’m going to join in,” Illya said, retrieving a card from the holder tied to her thigh. “I have something that might be able to defeat him, but I need your help to get to him.”

“You mustn’t!” Saber protested. “He’s far too dangerous for you to handle! Leave this to us and escape!”

“I can’t just run away when you’re in danger!” Illya yelled. “Class Card, Caster – Include!”

In a brilliant burst of light, Ruby transformed into a strange looking dagger. It was far too impractical to be considered a weapon, with a blade that was twisted into a zig-zag pattern, and it was too short to have any reach. Compared to her staff form, Ruby was even more useless now, especially against an opponent like Berserker.

If Servants are like familiars, this should get rid of him, she thought desperately. Taking a small step forward, she completely forgot about her allies and charged straight towards Berserker, who hesitated a little before raising his weapon to crush her.

Master or no, Illya was confident in her speed. Even without Ruby, she had managed to escape his blows somewhat, so it was not out of the question for her now. Diving to the side in mid-air, she narrowly avoided the axe sword as it slammed mercilessly into the ground. Her opponent was dangerous, so she had no time to think. Raising the dagger in her hands, she thrust it forward-

“Illya! Saber!”

Drowning out the sounds of Shirou’s shout, was a fiery explosion that swallowed Berserker. Unable to stop herself in time, Illya rushed straight into ball of raging fire, and would have been incinerated had it not been for a certain spearman.

Moving faster than Saber, Lancer had stepped in the moment he heard Shirou’s shout, in an attempt to pull her away from the explosion. However, what he had not expected was for Illya to blindly thrust her weapon forward at that point, and in his haste the tip of that weird dagger met his skin instead.

With a dull, almost silent sound, Rule Breaker plunged itself into Lancer’s chest.

Chapter Text

He remembered the look on her face as he stared into her eyes, and the fire he had seen in them. He knew next to nothing of this person, but if anything, there was one fact he was sure of:

This woman was his Master.

"I'm Lancer. Are you my Master?"

As the faint light from the summoning circle beneath his feet faded, their gazes met for the first time. She had a good, strong look in her eyes, and he liked that; women with a strong will were hard to come by, and this magus was one of them – unyielding spirit, confident and above all, powerful.

"I am," she replied. "My name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. I will be your Master until we achieve victory in this Holy Grail War."

He could tell from the way she looked back at him that she was the kind who faced her problems and adversaries head-on, and above all was someone without an ounce of negligence in her approach. While it may be a reckless way to fight, he could not bring himself to mind; after all, he was the same way, and believed strongly that only the weak resorted to cheap tricks.

And yet, sometimes it was that kind of cheap trick that could defeat the strong.

"So, this is the Servant Lancer?" the priest asked. He was supposedly the mediator of this ongoing War, and a trusted ally of his Master. While Lancer did not like him, he stayed silent; he had no reason or right to poke into his Master's social circle, and it would have been inappropriate for him to judge someone he had just met. "He certainly looks impressive."

"Yes," Bazett replied. "With his abilities, victory should be almost guaranteed."

"I see," the priest, who had introduced himself as Kirei, said as he stood up. Looking at Lancer as though he was an interesting statue, he continued, "No matter how many times I see it, this phenomenon never ceases to amaze me. To be able to summon such powerful spiritual beings… the Holy Grail is indeed an interesting object."

"And that is why the Church intervened, is it not?" Bazett asked, receiving a quiet nod in reply.

"Oh, there is something I must speak to you about," Kirei said offhandedly. "In private, if possible."

"Of course," Bazett replied easily. "Lancer, leave us and keep a lookout for any enemies or familiars outside."

"Is that really alright, Master?" Lancer asked, narrowing his eyes at Kirei. "As your Servant, I should always be by your side in case something happens."

"I'll be fine," Bazett replied. It was clear from her tone just how much she trusted the man known as Kotomine Kirei. "There's no need for concern."

"… Fine," Lancer said reluctantly, vanishing into thin air before their very eyes.

Wordlessly watching the space where Lancer had been moments before, Kirei waited for the faint killing intent (which, oddly, felt more like a beast's than a human's) to leave the room before beginning to speak.

"Ah, come to think of it, they could do something like that," he said. He had almost forgotten that Servants were able to go into astral form, having spent the last ten years with a former Servant that had achieved a physical body. "Very convenient."

"You said you had something to talk to me about," Bazett said, getting right to the point. "What is it?"

"Yes, of course," Kirei nodded. "Bazett. Have you considered what you would wish of the Grail when you emerge victorious?"

Bazett went silent.

"You should put some thought into it," Kirei told her. "The Grail has limitless power, and it can surely grant any desire you may have. You would do well to remember that."

Bazett nodded, and as she ruminated his words the Master completely missed the look in Kirei's eyes change; it was vaguely similar to longing or obsession, but was hardly something that could be considered 'human'. In those hollow, lifeless eyes was a spark – a pang of ravenous thirst for something that even the seeker did not understand.

"It's truly a wondrous thing," he said. "To think that such miracles would be possible with its power… It would be such a waste to leave it sleeping within the Grail."

"Kirei?" Bazett asked.

"My apologies," Kirei chuckled. "I must have confused you. You see, I too have an interest in the Holy Grail as an individual. That is why I assumed the role of mediator in this War."

Staring at the distant wall, Kirei's lips curved into something that might have been a smile. However, there was nothing reassuring about that gesture; instead, it merely felt… empty. It was merely an imitation of true emotion, of genuine mirth, but that unnatural action did not feel out of place on Kirei's face.

"Though I must say," he went on. "Servants are such funny creatures. They possess combat prowess far beyond human limits, and yet they have such a fatal, unbecoming weakness.

"To think that they could be defeated just by killing their Master."

It all happened far too quickly, and Bazett was unable to even call for her Servant. Amidst the dim illumination within the confines of the room, Kirei's figure was a swift shadow, blending into the darkness around them as he reached for the woman before him. In an instant, dark liquid gushed from the Master's arm, spilling onto the callous priest as she fell to the floor. The only sound that ever escaped Bazett's lips was a soft groan.

"It's truly a shame, Bazett," he said, his tone stoic; even though he had just killed a person, and despite being a priest, he seemed utterly unfazed by the fact that he had just taken a life. "For a magus, the biggest mistake you can make is letting your guard down. Be it in front of friend or enemy, being fully prepared regardless is the nature of a magus, no?"

He recalled the back of that man, unsuspecting and confident, as he walked away from him. The man had been a powerful magus, and one who had his ultimate weapon right by his side. Because of a moment's folly – a simple opening caused by his trust in the student he never understood – Tohsaka Tokiomi had lost his life. Not to a grand spell, nor to an enemy Servant, but rather to a simple stab wound through the heart.

"You believed me to be worthy of your trust," he said, a queer glint in his pupils as he watched Bazett's suffering. Or, as Gilgamesh would have put it, relished her suffering. Despite his dislike for pointless chatter, he could not help but want to speak those words – to see her writhe in agony even more before his very eyes. "That was a foolish mistake, Bazett."

He chuckled. In the previous War, even the most novice of Masters had lasted for quite some time. In this War, however, a talented and skilled magus like Bazett merely lived for four days.

"Bazett!"

Arriving far too late and holding the surely dead woman in his arms, Lancer desperately called for his Master. His scarlet irises were aflame with rage and desperation, but it was not out of concern for himself; he was not afraid of disappearing – he just could not accept the reality transpiring before his eyes.

His carelessness had cost his Master her life. In this battle, he was supposed to protect her, fight by her side, and finally win the war with her. Now, because he was sloppy at being her Servant, Bazett was going to die.

And above all, there was nothing he could do besides helplessly yelling her name.

"By my Command Seal, I order you."

His overwhelming rage prevented him from hearing the order itself from Kirei's mouth, but that did not matter; in that instant, his body froze, forcing him to bend to the will of the monster before him. It was a power beyond his resistance, and while Lancer had prepared himself to be controlled by it, he had not expected it to come from this fiendish priest.

"From this moment on, I am your Master," Kirei's lips once more twisted into that inhuman shape as he spoke. "You have nothing to worry about; after all, we seek the same thing, do we not?"

Lancer gnashed his teeth, his grip on Bazett's shoulder tightening. Unable to kill the murderer before him, the Servant of the spear could do nothing but watch his former Master die. But as she drew her last breaths in his arms, Lancer made a vow to the woman named Bazett Fraga McRemitz:

Don't worry, Bazett. I swear on my life that I will avenge you.

He remembered the look on her face as he stared into her eyes, and the fire he had seen in them. He knew next to nothing of this person, but if anything, there was one fact he was sure of:

This woman was his Master.

-

The force of the explosion blew Lancer away, but he did not let go of Illya. Ignoring the force slamming violently into his back and the sharp pain in his chest, the spearman covered the girl's head as they tumbled along the ground, eventually coming to a stop a few meters away.

"Dammit, that was dirty," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "Sorry about that, brat. You alright?"

"Oww…" Illya muttered, taking a few seconds to absorb what had just happened. When her shocked brain finally took it all in, her eyes almost flew out of their sockets. "I-I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to stab… I was aiming for Berserker, and… And…! I-I'm sorry, Setanta-san!"

"Nah, it ain't a big deal," Lancer said, smirking as he jabbed a thumb to his chest. "See? No wounds- Wait; what did you just call me?"

"Huh?" Illya wondered aloud. "D-did I pronounce it wrong? I-I'm sorry! I-I just thought- Ouch!"

A searing pain burned across the back of her hand, and a dull red glow began to surface on Illya's skin. When it finally faded away, a strange mark rested on the back of her hand. It was a queer-looking dark red mark, almost like a tattoo of sorts, and under normal circumstances it might have simply freaked her out. However, Illya knew that this was no ordinary mark; she had seen a similar design on Shirou's hand, as well as Rin's. This was not just some tattoo – it was a form of high-level magecraft.

It was the proof of being a Master – the Command Seals.

"W-what is this…?" Illya gasped, even though she knew perfectly well what those marks were. "What's going on…?"

"It looks like there are lots of things we need to discuss," Lancer said, standing up and readying his spear. The mana sustaining him from Kotomine was completely gone, replaced by a faint but unmistakable flow from… Illya. Somehow. But being in front of the enemy was probably not the best time to be chatting. "But first, I'll take care of that big guy. Don't run away on me, kid."

"Y-yes sir!" Illya squeaked.

"Oh my…" Ruby, still in her dagger form, spoke up. "It seems we messed up, Illya-san."

"W-what do you mean?"

"It looks like you've just dived even deeper into this whole thing," Ruby replied ominously.

-

Atop a hill four kilometers away, Archer furrowed his brow. Regardless of how little he cared for it, he was a Heroic Spirit. Sniping a target from this distance was not a problem, and the explosion should have engulfed Berserker, Saber and Lancer in one fell swoop while merely pushing the girl (he still had trouble figuring out if she was the real Illyasviel) away. He had no intention of killing anyone besides that one man, and Servants being defeated was something he could live with, so he was glad that the kid was safe. But something else bothered him greatly.

Emiya Shirou picking up on his attack was unexpected, but when he thought about it, it was not impossible. Although he would have wanted him to get caught in the blast and die, it appeared that the young man was too slow for that. It was a disappointing result, but not the greatest source of shock for the Counter Guardian.

He had missed. Instead of piercing Berserker's heart, his arrow had dug into the ground some distance away from the Servant instead. Emiya Shirou was lightly injured from shielding Saber, Saber herself was unscathed, Illya was safe and Lancer seemed lightly wounded. Berserker probably died once, but the attack was still a total failure. Though, it was not entirely his fault.

Someone intercepted my arrow, he thought. Even though it was highly unlikely, someone had altered his arrow's course in mid-flight, hitting it with something fast and strong enough to affect its trajectory. But who?

"That was quite a dangerous move, oji-san."

For the second time that night, Archer was rendered speechless. He had turned around expecting another Servant, or perhaps even a magus, but definitely not whoever it was he ended up looking at.

His first thought was that it was Illya, but something was amiss; while she had the same face as Illya, the girl in front of him had dark skin and different-colored eyes. Her hair, closer to white in hue rather than silver, was tied behind her head to suit moving around. He would have been disturbed by that, if not for the clothing she wore.

At a glance, it was just a red overcoat. The top half of it extended to her wrists and looked like a jacket, but the lower half billowed around her legs like a cape or a skirt. It was a rather simple design, which he was thankful for considering the amount of clothing she wore underneath (or lack thereof). He did not want to believe it, but the black armor-like pieces under her shroud served to only barely cover her modest chest and hip area, with the only other instance of it appearing being the boots she wore. It was far too revealing for a girl who physically looked around ten years old, not to mention it looked exactly like his own clothes.

"What's with the look?" Kuro asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you, anyway? You're kind of creepy, you know."

"You stole my line, kid," Archer replied, cringing at how old he sounded with that line. He figured he could not blame her for calling him an 'uncle', but quickly dismissed that thought; there was an elephant in the room to address. "Who are you, and where did you get that outfit from?"

That red cloak was a Mystic Code, and was something that should have been his. Even if he accepted that she had somehow managed to replicate it, there was no way she could be wearing the same black armor beneath that cloak. It may not have looked like anything much, but it was made of a special material that was not yet discovered in this era. There was simply no way she could have acquired it, and there was no way she could have replicated it. And yet, it was unmistakably the real deal.

"What; you wanna buy it?" Kuro asked teasingly. "I thought you were creepy for copying my clothes, but you actually want to wear a female version of it? You have a thing for cross-dressing?"

Ah, I see, Archer thought, recalling the scene he had observed from afar while chasing after Lancer earlier. His eye twitched uncomfortably. This must be what Lancer felt seeing Illya in that form.

Words could not describe how he felt right then. He was already confused beyond measure with two Illyas, and now the appearance of this supposedly third one was threatening to drive him insane. What had he done to deserve this madness?

"And?" Kuro put a hand on her hip. "Why were you trying to kill my little sister and my beloved onii-chan, hentai-san?"

This one actually reminds me of the real Illya, Archer sighed. The Illya from his fractured memories gave off this kind of vibe too, and it was as annoying as it was endearing.

"I don't see why I have to answer your question, cosplay girl," he replied. He genuinely had to search his soul for the part of him that was apparently a lolicon, in the hopes of gouging it out with a shovel. Or maybe burn it to cinder with a holy sword. "I would ask if you were the one who shot down my arrow, but then again, I can't expect a proper answer from you can I?"

"You're smarter than you look," Kuro said, smiling coquettishly. She had indeed intended to shoot down that arrow, but even with a rather powerful attack of her own she had barely altered its course. The opponent in front of her was definitely stronger than she was, but she was not going to back down; pride was one thing, but if she chickened out now Illya and Shirou were going to die. "Want a kiss as a reward?"

"Sorry, but I don't swing that way," Archer replied. "And I would like to request that you don't get in my way anymore; I'm not soft like that naïve big brother of yours."

"What a coincidence," Kuro replied cheerfully, lifting a black bow which had definitely not been in her hands before. Resting elegantly between the taut bowstring was a thin object, one that looked like a sword compressed to look like an arrow. "I'm not as nice as my little sister either."

"I am the bone of my sword."

Recognizing the danger in his opponent, Archer spoke but a single line of English. While she had no idea what he had just said, Kuro hesitated, her fingertips momentarily frozen on her arrow. Even though she did not speak a word of the language, she could somewhat understand what he had just chanted.

Coming to her senses, she let the arrow fly. The distance between them was hardly even fifty meters, and the silver streak fired from Kuro's bow tore across it far too quickly. To the human eye, it would have been nothing more than a thin beam of light, but Archer could see it coming with much clarity. In a simple, fluid motion, he swiftly raised a hand as though intending to grab the incoming arrow.

"Rho Aias!"

Violet light exploded where arrow and flesh made contact, and for a moment it looked like the attack had succeeded. However, Kuro did not celebrate nor drop her guard; she knew the moment her arrow struck her target that her attack had been stopped.

A flower of translucent light shielded Archer, expanding from his palm and stretching out into six petals as it completely blocked the impact from Kuro's arrow. Despite the close distance, Archer was not even pushed back a single step.

"Interesting technique," Archer commented, letting the shield fade into nothingness. "Now I have even more questions for you to answer."

"You're more than welcome to ask," Kuro said, making her bow disappear and replacing it with a pair of very familiar black and white swords. "Though if you want some answers, you're going to need to be more… persuasive."

"I can manage that," Archer replied, creating the same swords in his hands.

-

Shirou coughed as he rolled off Saber, trying to recover from the ringing in his ears. He might not have been hurt badly by the explosion, but the burst of sound and light was still enough to render a human like him immobile for a few moments.

"Shirou!" Saber exclaimed, examining her Master for fatal wounds. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm… I'm fine," Shirou muttered. "That bastard… Archer… He attacked knowing you guys were within the blast radius…"

"Oi, Saber," Lancer called out. He actually sounded rather agitated for once. "I know your Master's important and all, but we've got business to deal with."

As he said those words, the supposedly dead Berserker once more began to rise. This was already the second time he had definitely died, but the Mad Servant just kept coming back to life. There was no telling how many times he could perform such a feat, and it was difficult to tell if he could actually die for real at this point.

"But-" Saber protested.

"It's alright, Saber," Shirou assured her as Illya ran over. "I'll be fine. We need to beat that Berserker first. W-where's Tohsaka?"

"I'm afraid I do not know," Saber replied. "She disappeared not long after the battle began along with Archer, so I presume she must be waiting for the right time to strike."

"Onii-chan!" Illya cried worriedly. "Did you get hurt?! Why didn't you stay back like I told you to?! You could have died!"

"Haha… I sound like the younger sibling here for some reason…" Shirou, despite the situation, chuckled. "Sorry about that. I'm alright though, so go ahead, Saber."

"… I understand," Saber replied, standing up. "Illya, please take care of him. While there are many questions I have as to your identity, I believe that you genuinely mean to protect Shirou, so I will leave him in your care."

"I-I under-" Illya began.

At that moment, two things happened at once. The first was Berserker rising to his feet and charging towards Lancer and Saber, the force of his charge unaffected by his apparent death. Lancer raised his spear to parry the blow, but said blow never came because of the second thing that happened:

"Class Card, Saber – Install."

A flash of light dug into the ground in front of Berserker, and the Servant's foot stepped right into the hole that was created. Falling face-first, Berserker slammed a massive palm onto the ground and, for all his bulk, cartwheeled forward and continued his attack as though nothing had happened.

Lancer, thanks to the momentary opening, managed to dodge the blow with relative easy before using his spear to vault himself into the air and away from the giant. He had no idea what had just happened, and who had come to his aid, but the moment he looked around a little bit he found his answer.

At first, he thought Saber had become even shorter, and that under the moonlight her hair had somehow become black. Then he realized that Saber was standing where she was, and that she too had a flabbergasted expression on her face as she looked at their new ally.

She looked no older than ten or so years old, which would not have been a cause for surprise, but she was wearing armor. Not just any armor, either; she was wearing the exact same silver armor and blue battle dress that Saber was, complete with the same hairstyle on her head. If there was something different about them, it would be the weapon the younger girl held in her hands.

It was a sword of bright gold, its brilliance hardly dimmed by the shroud of night. It was majestic – the very embodiment of countless warriors' prayers across space and time – and above all, it was beautiful. It was a holy weapon, one that was not and could not have been forged by human hands. It was the sacred sword of an extolled, undefeated King, and it knew no equal. However, it was in that very beauty that Lancer sensed something was wrong.

It should not be beautiful. It was the physical manifestation of that King's ideals, and it was the very symbol of her nature as a Heroic Spirit. It was the pinnacle of holy swords, and it was something that the term 'beautiful' would only defile, not complement. The sword itself was a Divine Construct – one that no Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes would not recognize. What the girl held in her hands was undoubtedly the revered Noble Phantasm Excalibur, but at the same time, it was not. If anything, Lancer might even have considered what she wielded to be a replica. But could a replica be so awe-inspiring?

"M-Miyu?!" Illya wondered aloud.

"Are you alright, Illya?" Miyu asked, her tone filled with genuine concern but her gaze fixated on Berserker.

"I-I'm fine," Illya replied. "But be careful; that Berserker is-"

"I know," Miyu replied. From her tone, it would have been difficult to think that she was a mere child, and it would have been even harder to believe that she was just as confused as Illya as to what was going on. However, unlike Illya, Miyu was far more composed in situations like this. It sometimes made Illya wonder if Miyu was actually used to seeing and being in such battles. "He's stronger than when we beat him before. I'll hold him off; get onii-chan to a safe place, Illya."

"'O-Onii-chan'?" Illya said before she could stop herself. She had not misheard anything; Miyu had just referred to Shirou as her big brother. "Wha-"

"Hurry," Miyu urged. "I don't know how long I can hold him off, but get him as far as you can."

"Stop, Berserker."

The cold and unforgiving voice that was Illyasviel's rang through the night, instantly causing the atmosphere to freeze over. In the resulting silence caused by her one command, the child-like Master walked over to her massive Servant and put a hand on his leg.

"That's enough," she said. She was confident in Berserker's abilities, no doubt, but she was not stupid enough to misread the situation. She may look like a child, but she was still a magus – she was not reckless enough to plunge her Servant into a battle when so many irregularities were present. Not to mention the whole situation was confusing her to no end and was giving her a migraine. "I'll withdraw for tonight. Try not to die before the next time we meet, onii-chan."

Smiling lightly at the utterly bewildered expression on Shirou's face, Illyasviel cast a look of disgust towards her doppelganger and let her Servant pick her up. Just as she was about to tell Berserker to leave, a familiar and irksome voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

"You again?" Illyasviel asked irritably. "What do you want?"

"I… You… I…" Illya stammered, unsure of what to say. After all that had happened, her brain was hardly working properly anymore.

"What's with that? Some sort of spell?" Illyasviel asked coldly. If this was supposed to be a joke, it was not funny. "If you want to masquerade as me, you'll have to do better than-"

"Y-you have a mole in an embarrassing place!" Illya exclaimed, her face redder than a ripe tomato. Casting Shirou a shy look between words, she stammred, "U-um… That is… It's… It's at…"

"Let's go, Berserker," Illyasviel commanded without another look at her, and her giant companion abided without a word. It was unclear if she had even heard Illya's embarrassing declaration at all.

In the wake of the huge gust left behind by Berserker's leap, was nothing but an awkward silence. For a few moments, no one said anything, until a wounded Rin walked into the smoldering battlefield.

"Rin-san?!" Illya and Miyu called out, running over to her.

"Stop right there," Rin said sternly, holding up a hand to stop them. "Come any closer, and I'll shoot you."

"What are you-" Illya began, but the rest of her sentence was interrupted by a red-cloaked figure landing gracefully beside Rin from the air. It was her Servant, Archer, and on his shoulder was someone even more familiar. "K-Kuro?!"

"She's fine," Archer replied, setting the unconscious girl down on the ground. "Are you alright, Master?"

"Yeah, more or less," Rin replied. "That brat was pretty good for her size… but that aside, is that who I think she is?"

"You're probably thinking of the right thing," Archer nodded, staring at Miyu who was still donning her battle outfit and wielding that holy sword. "But I'm afraid I have no more answers than you do."

"I see," Rin sighed. "Well, we're going. No use hanging around here anymore."

"Hold on, Tohsaka!" Shirou said.

"Wait, Rin-san!" Illya yelled at the same time.

"And what, Emiya-kun?" Rin snapped, completely ignoring Illya. "Do you expect me to stay around you and your shady group of… girls?"

Without waiting for his – or anybody's, for that matter – reply, she walked away, with Archer following right behind her. She had not said anything as she went, but no one dared to follow after her; the danger in her tone as she regarded Shirou's group was real, and the venom in her voice deadly. She clearly viewed them as nothing more than dangerous, unknown elements, and there was no telling what she might do to anyone foolish enough to chase after her.

Leaving a heavy silence in her wake, Rin disappeared from sight. Helpless despite their fighting strength, the rest of the group could do nothing besides watch them go without a word.

-

Bazett panted heavily, clutching the slash wound on her shoulder. It was not fatal, but it was still a cause for concern given the difference in their fighting abilities.

The swordsman in front of her was skilled, and not only that, he was beating her while holding back. From the way he attacked, it was clear that this man had no intention of killing her, and the very thought that the difference between them could be this great infuriated Bazett.

She had defeated the Class Cards Lancer and Archer by herself. Despite being Heroic Spirits brought to life, they had fallen to her abilities. She was not one to boast, but Bazett was confident in her abilities to face just about anyone in combat. However, she was hardly able to keep up with this swordsman. Was he using some sort of spell to boost his abilities beyond hers?

"By now, you should know that you cannot win," Assassin said. "I will request of you once more: leave this place."

Naturally, Bazett did not listen, and as she took a step forward intending to continue the fight-

"As I feared, you're weak, Sasaki."

A thin beam seared through the air between them, piercing Bazett cleanly through the heart. Assassin, looking just as shocked as the victim, made to rush towards her and catch her fall.

"What do you think you're doing?" a woman's voice echoed around him. Materializing at the top of the steps from a swirl of purple particles, the hooded woman that was his Master smiled.

"That was uncalled for," Assassin protested. "There was-"

A violent impact exploded across his back, almost knocking him off his feet. Recovering from the sudden blow and turning around, Assassin almost dropped his sword in sheer surprise.

Wasting no time, Bazett leapt towards him, taking full advantage of his surprise to continue her assault. No one could blame him for being caught off-guard, since she had really died from the previous attack, but all it took was that one moment for the tide of battle to change.

Or at least, it would have changed, if not for the presence of the hooded woman.

Multiple beams of light crashed upon Bazett, mercilessly assaulting her without leaving her any openings to escape. The seemingly endless barrage of raw mana exploded along the stone steps, leaving behind nothing but craters in their wake.

"My, my," the Servant Caster muttered to herself. "She was able to revive when her heart stopped… a rune of resuscitation? Pretty rare a spell for a magus of the modern era… And pretty powerful as well…"

Hovering in the air just above Bazett's unconscious body, Caster's lips curved into a malicious smile. It was an expression that sent chills down Assassin's spine no matter how many times he saw it, and he wanted very much to slay that witch right then and there.

"Such an interesting specimen," she whispered. "Guess I will have some fun with you before I entertain my… guests."

Echoing across the night and shattering the otherwise tranquil air, was Caster's triumphant laugh.

Chapter Text

"Where are we going, Rin?"

Ignoring her Servant's question (which she could not blame him for asking), Rin trudged down the stairs without a word. There were too many thoughts going through her head at the moment, and she felt like she would let something slip if she took the time to reply him.

Archer, on the other hand, simply sighed and went into his spiritual form. He had opted for corporeal form on their way back, but now that she was home Rin no longer required his protection; the Tohsaka manor was a fortress, and he heavily doubted if anyone would be reckless or stupid enough to try and launch an assault here.

Instead, he considered the staircase Rin was descending. Even though she had made him clean up the place like a maid, Rin had explicitly forbidden Archer from entering the basement. Even if she did come down here every now and then with his company, she had never taken this particular flight of stairs. When asked about it, the magus simply said that it was nothing, and that he did not need to think too deeply about it (something which Archer was inclined to do, thanks to her Command Seal).

And now, even though he was finally going to see what was down here, Archer was no longer interested. After the events that had just transpired, there were about a thousand things on his mind that required his attention instead.

For a brief moment, he entertained the idea that Illya had somehow traveled back in time like he had, that she had decided to return to the Fifth War to kill her past self. Maybe – just maybe – she had somehow been brainwashed by his own goody-two shoes ideals, and had decided to pursue a life of saving others after winning the war in her universe. Perhaps she, too, had been betrayed by living a lie, by obstinately mimicking ideals she knew nothing about. Perhaps she was here to erase that mistake.

But Archer knew that would never happen. It was not a matter of her mindset, or of her character – it was a matter of her physical limitations.

Even if his memories were fragmented, he knew what Illyasviel von Einzbern was. He was well aware that she was a homunculus and not human, no matter how well she passed off as one. He was far too familiar with the lifespan of a body like that, and harbored no fantasies about how long she had to live. And that was assuming her 'contents' did not destroy her first.

"Shirou is…"

"Archer."

A familiar voice. A familiar face. A gentle, soothing smile. Those were the things his memories recalled, and they were the precious bits he struggled to keep. Even if the Illya he had just met and battled was not wearing the same expression, he held little doubt about her identity.

The same silver hair. The same pair of ruby-red eyes. The same look of childish mischief. The same aura of helpless resignation. The Master of Berserker was the exact mirror image of the Illya he knew, complete with the massive protector by her side. The girl in the red cloak, no matter how similar in appearance, was ultimately just someone else.

"Shirou is… so kind…"

He recalled the white fingers caressing his cheek. Her fingertips, soft and fragile, slid across his skin, their ice-cold surfaces searing the side of his face. He had never held her in his life, but he had not expected her to feel that… empty. So distant. So very, very cold. It was difficult to accept that fact even now, especially when her smile was just so warm.

He remembered her last moments clearly. He had seen death, but it was nothing like it was with Kiritsugu. Illya did not drift off to sleep, nor did she even close her eyes. Her fingers never left the cheek they were caressing.

She just paused, froze, like a machine suddenly out of power. She was a puppet tangled in strings, without a puppeteer to help her move again. She just… stopped functioning.

"Archer!"

Snapping out of his trance, Archer hastily attempted to fix his expression in order to appear neutral. Then, recalling that he was in spiritual form and thus had no face Rin could see, merely went silent at his own stupidity. Still somewhat lost in his thoughts and unable to wrench that horrid memory from his mind, the Servant of the bow faded into existence, appearing before his Master as though nothing had happened.

"What is it, Rin?" he asked.

"What're you spacing out for?" Rin asked crossly. "We may be back home, but it doesn't mean you can just let down your guard like that."

"Don't worry," Archer assured her. "I'm always ready to intercept any enemy that comes our way. I was just curious about this room, that's all."

That was not entirely a lie; while Archer had indeed been preoccupied by the memories of his previous life, he was indeed interested in the room Rin had brought him into. He had never step foot in this place before, and compared to the rest of the mansion, it was a rather queer place to say the least.

Unlike practically every other room, this one was rather small, and whatever space it had was occupied by a couple of tables and an old, wooden chest. Papers and books littered the floor and tables, gathering fair amounts of dust against the dim illumination of a lone candle's flame. From the corner of his eye, Archer could make out something that looked like a magic circle, with what looked like shattered jewels resting atop of it.

"Oh, this?" Rin asked nonchalantly. "I just don't have much use for this room, that's all. Anyway, there's something I have to check, so get your weapon ready."

"Why do I need my weapons if you're just checking something?" Archer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because what I'm about to check is the most vile object you've ever seen," Rin replied, a haunted look in her eyes. "If possible, I'd have wanted to never see it again, but it looks like I don't have a choice here."

"Care to explain what that means?" Archer asked. "I'm completely lost here, you know."

"It's just a hypothesis," Rin said, walking over to the chest and putting her hands on it. "But Archer, anything that comes of this chest and tries to escape… I want you to blast it into oblivion, got it?"

"… Okay," Archer said hesitantly. Nonetheless, he did not produce his weapons, and just stood there as Rin took a deep breath before opening the chest.

"Here goes."

She opened the chest.

"RIN-SA-"

She slammed the chest shut.

Archer blinked a few times without speaking, possibly trying to make sense of the situation. He recognized the voice and the shape, but he still had no idea what was going on.

"Uh…" he said. "What was that?"

"What do you think?" Rin asked, sounding rather annoyed. "It's the same stupid stick that the girl 'Illya' was holding. It's that loudmouthed Mystic Code that likes to call itself 'Ruby'."

"It's 'Magical Stick of Love and Justice, Ruby-chan'!" a muffled voice protested from inside the chest.

"Right…" Archer said slowly. "And why is that here…? No, wait; how did you even-"

"Because it's mine," Rin sighed. "It's a unique Mystic Code that's not only powerful, but also extremely annoying and has no respect for its master."

"But I merely thought those dog ears suited you, Rin-san!" the stick inside the chest said, sounding like it was sobbing. "In order to make up for your sorry-sized chest and pitiful looks, I thought that the cuteness factor would-"

"Archer," Rin said firmly, stepping away from the chest. "Blow it to bits."

"While I have no complaints, Master," Archer sighed exasperatedly. "I would like to remind you that thanks to your Command Spell, I feel inclined to follow through with everything you say. As such, I can't guarantee I'll be able to hold back. Is that alright?"

Rin considered his words for a moment. While she seemed to have no qualms about letting him blast that accursed stick into oblivion, she did not seem all that enthusiastic about being incinerated along with that stupid thing.

"… Well, maybe later," she said at last. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like how're you're going to be an old mai-"

"Archer," Rin declared loudly, her tone making even Archer wary of her imminent wrath. "If this stupid chest makes one more sound, I want you to erase it from existence. Understood?"

"Fine," Archer replied, causing said chest to immediately go silent.

"Now then, back to the topic at hand," Rin said. "Like I just said, this Mystic Code is one of a kind. Since the spells surrounding the house have not been broken, I can only assume that the same stick we saw in the hands of that girl 'Illya' is a replica of sorts. Except that there's no way to replicate this Mystic Code."

"So you're saying she's from another universe or time?" Archer asked.

"You sure jumped to that conclusion fast," Rin pointed out. While she did not know, Archer was someone from an alternate universe himself, so the idea was far more believable to him.

"Servants are Heroic Spirits from a time different from now," Archer replied, purposely ignoring the words 'from the past as well as future'. "It's not hard for me to believe something like that."

"True," Rin nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "And to be honest, I had arrived at the same conclusion as well. She seemed to know Emiya-kun and myself, even though we didn't know her, and then there's the Master of Berserker… Coupled with the stupid stick she had, it'd only make sense if she wasn't originally from this world. And that complicates things."

"How so?" Archer asked. "While I agree that her abilities are strange, she poses no threat. The abilities the three of them demonstrated – the ability to assimilate the powers of Servants – is intriguing, but ultimately just that; they aren't powerful enough to actually stand toe-to-toe with proper Servants in this war."

"That's true, but only if what we've seen so far is really what they can do," Rin said. "If they were holding back just to throw us off guard, we'd be walking right into their trap when we decide to launch an offensive on them."

"She looked pretty clueless to me," Archer shrugged.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rin snapped. "A random kid couldn't be in possession of such a dangerous Mystic Code, and besides, a brat who's really as clueless as she looks couldn't have survived the Holy Grail War."

"Well, that's true," Archer nodded, before furrowing his brow. "Wait. You just said 'the Holy Grail War'. What makes you think there was such a thing in her world?"

"She had those weird cards with her," Rin reminded him. "Even though the power was weak, they were undoubtedly cards with the powers of Heroic Spirits in them. Not only that, they were powers belonging to the exact same Servants as the ones we've seen so far. And she's a mirror image of Berserker's Master. Too much to be a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I guess," Archer said slowly.

"While I don't know what sort of rules that War had, it has to be related to those cards," Rin said. "The parallels between those cards and the Servants are too eerie otherwise. But if that was so, why does she have more than one Servant card?

"Her dark-skinned counterpart has your card," she went on. "The other one had Saber's. The girl herself had Lancer and Caster, from what I've seen. Her little friend even said they had beaten Berserker before. She was able to cancel Lancer's contract with his Master thanks to that weird dagger of hers, too. A person with that much power can't possibly be unfamiliar with the Holy Grail War, don't you think?"

"Well, yes," Archer admitted. "But if that was the case, wouldn't forming an alliance with the Emiya side be more beneficial? You saw how strong that Berserker was. If she had that much power, she could help us take out that Servant.

"Indeed, but… She knew who I am," Rin said. "There's no telling what she might be plotting under that innocent expression. She seems to be drawing the attention of Berserker's Master, though, so we can just use her and Emiya-kun as bait and take out Berserker afterwards. Assuming she doesn't murder Emiya-kun in his sleep tonight."

"Somehow I doubt that," Archer muttered, but he could not entirely disagree with Rin's view; after all, the Illyasviel von Einzbern he remembered had an innocent expression as well, but she was in no way as safe as she appeared. Maybe the axe sword-wielding giant with her had something to do with that. "So, you want to wait and see before making a move, is that it?"

Rin was silent for a few moments as she pondered her replied. Archer waited her out, knowing that it was wiser not to rush her for an answer.

"I guess that's all we can do for now," she said eventually, heaving a long, drawn-out sigh.

-

She felt the comfortably warm water embrace her, relieving her of the fatigue she had accumulated. Granted, she had not done much that day, but for some reason still felt like she had just climbed a mountain.

"What was with her…?" Illyasviel wondered aloud.

That girl had just come out of nowhere, saying all sorts of nonsense. She made her fool of her with that stupid expression and running around, and she even said that she was Illyasviel. Did she really think she was as gullible as she looked?

"She can't be…" she muttered, only somewhat aware that she was just saying that to convince herself. "… Can she?"

The room was silent, with only the sound of splashing water replying her question. Frustrated and without answers, Illyasviel found herself almost throwing a tantrum like a child.

She was, despite her appearance, a mature young woman. She was better than this, and she would not be swindled or thrown off her game by such an obvious lie. And it had to be a lie. It had to be.

She remembered the comforting smile on his face. She remembered his voice, caring and strong, whispering into her ear as he held her close. His warmth was assuring against the winter cold, and his words a brilliant ray of sunshine:

"Daddy loves you too."

He had said that he would return. He had said that he would come back for her after his work was finished. He had said that he loved her. And yet, he had never returned.

She had believed in everything she was told. She had approached everyone with an earnest heart, and believed that everyone would do the same with her. She had had absolute faith in her father's words, and he had betrayed her. Abandoned her. Tossed her aside for someone he had never met.

He had lied to her, and that one lie shattered her heart.

She swore that she would never let herself be hurt like that again. She swore that no one would ever hurt her the same way. She swore that she would be strong, and discarded that weakness in her heart.

But she could not help but want to believe her words.

The girl was weak. She was powerless, she was defenseless, and she was naïve to a fault. She had no Berserker by her side either, so she was doomed to die in this Holy Grail War. There would be no pity in Illyasviel's eyes for her when she draws her last breath, but…

She had been so earnest.

Maybe it was because she had her face, but Illyasviel could tell that she was not lying. She did not know why, but she could tell by looking into her eyes that she was telling the truth. There was even a part of her deep down that wanted to believe it was true. To believe that somewhere, an Illyasviel von Einzbern who looked more human than she did existed. And yet, as she wished for that very thing, she could also feel the pangs of jealousy gnawing at her heart.

"What should I do…?" she asked, unable to sort out her maelstrom of intersecting feelings.

Sometimes, Illyasviel was more than just a child physically. And sometimes, she could not bring herself to care.

-

"So, um…"

Shirou made an effort to find the right words to say, but nothing came out. Attributing it to the sudden increase in the population of his house, he tried to make sense of his current predicament.

After the battle with Berserker, their group – now three people larger – had made their way back. The strange black-haired girl had cast aside her armor and sword, opting for a plain white shirt and pants that looked far more modest compared to Illya's blue tights. The other girl, Kuro, who was pretty much a tanned Illya, had recovered shortly after Rin's departure and was now seated across the table looking rather crestfallen. Although she too had been wearing a rather revealing outfit before, it was now magically a regular tank top with matching shorts.

And then there was Lancer. For some reason, after the battle with Berserker, the Servant of the spear had decided to tag along with them, for reasons even he was not entirely sure of. According to him, he had somehow lost his Master thanks to Illya's attack, and had apparently become Illya's Servant instead.

In conclusion, nothing made sense to him right now. What a surprise that was.

"Onii-chan," Miyu said, breaking the silence and actively ignoring Saber's glare. "Please explain the situation."

"W-wait a minute," Shirou said hastily. "I don't know what's going on either, but could you drop the 'onii-chan' part…? I-I've never met you before, so…"

Blinking a few times in open surprise, Miyu looked down, her cheeks a faint tinge of pink. Murmuring something inaudible under her breath (which might have been an apology, but Shirou could not tell), she just stayed silent without another word.

"T-then, 'Shirou-san'," she muttered feebly after what felt like an eternity. "I-I'm sorry for being so rude…"

"No, it's okay," Shirou said immediately. Forcing a little girl to the brink of crying was not something on his to-do list, and he had no intention of making such a mistake. "I-I'm not blaming you or anything, so… er…"

"T-that's right, Miyu," Illya chipped in. "I mistakenly called Shirou 'onii-chan' too, so don't worry about it!"

"Heh…" Kuro mused, apparently recovered from her earlier loss. "So 'Shirou' and 'Shirou-san', eh? Then… I get to call him 'Onii-chan'!"

"E-eh?!" Illya exclaimed. "That's playing dirty, Kuro! He's not even the onii-chan we know!"

"I know," Kuro replied mischievously. "That makes it less problematic, right? Legally speaking…"

"W-w-w-wha- Y-you-!"

"Besides, since you call him 'Shirou' and Miyu calls him 'Shirou-san', I need to call him by something else right?"

"That's no reason to-!"

"If I may," Saber interjected, her authoritative tone instantly silencing the three bickering girls. "I would like an explanation as to what is going on. After what I have seen tonight, I have trouble accepting your identity. I request that you fill us in on what you know."

"I have a heap of questions I'd like answered too," Lancer said, staring at Illya. "Particularly with regards to you, ojou-chan."

"Before that, don't you owe us an explanation?" Kuro retorted, looking at Saber. "It's not like we know who you are, or who that red-cloaked guy with Rin-san was. Or that oji-san in blue tights in the corner, either."

Lancer said nothing, but Saber opened her mouth to speak. Before she could actually speak her thoughts, however, Illya voiced out a question of her own.

"Wait, Kuro," she said. "Shouldn't you already know who the man with Rin-san is?"

"Why would I know that?" Kuro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"B-because you have the Archer card," Illya replied. "Earlier, when I did an Install with the Lancer card, I had all these… memories flooding my head. I knew which the Heroic Spirit's power resided in the card, and I knew their name. It's the same for you, isn't it, Miyu?"

Wordlessly, Miyu nodded.

"Of course I don't," Kuro replied. "Unlike you and Miyu, I don't have the ability to Install a card. Like I told you before, I'm only borrowing the card's powers to maintain my existence. It's not the same as an Install, which requires Ruby and Sapphire as mediums to pull off. I don't have the memories of what hero this card supposedly holds."

"Er…"

Shirou, who was a complete novice when it came to magecraft, was utterly lost as to what they were talking about. Unable to follow whatever they were saying, he exchanged glances with Saber, who gave him a small nod of affirmation.

"For the time being," he said slowly. "Could we start from the top?"

Inwardly, he heaved a deep sigh. As he had feared, tonight was going to be a long night.

-

Luvia Edelfelt stared long and hard at the paper in front of her, and sighed. Even though the paper had nothing but what looked like harmless inkblots on it, the implications of those inkblots made her extremely uneasy.

"This situation is getting out of hand," she said, massaging her temples. "First Illyasviel, then Miyu… Just what on Earth have they gotten themselves into?"

"If we knew, we wouldn't be in this mess," Tohsaka Rin, her eternal rival and current housemaid, reminded her. "Besides, we might not be able to blame them for this one."

"What do you mean?" Luvia asked.

"Look at this," Rin said, producing another paper with inkblots across its surface and placing it next to the first. "This is what the mana flow in Fuyuki looks like right now."

"This is…" Luvia's eyes widened with surprise, and despite all her grace and pride she could not bring herself to care. "The Eighth Class Card is… gone?"

"Not only that, but the distortion's disappeared too," Rin pointed out. "Not everywhere, but areas with Illya's school and where the Eighth Card was as the center… The distortions along these places have significantly vanished. Initially, I believed that they simply brought that distortion over when they Jumped, but…"

"But what?" Luvia asked. "Stop being dramatic and speak your mind."

"I've been thinking," Rin said. "Maybe it's not so much of Illya and Miyu going somewhere, as it's… something on the other side pulling them over."

"What do you mean?" Luvia asked, sitting a little straighter in her chair.

"You know how the Class Cards are all hostile and trying to kill whoever steps into the Mirror World?" Rin asked. "What if the cause of the distortion is the same as whatever corrupted the Cards, and when Illya tried to Jump she somehow came into contact with it?"

"You're saying this cause is what dragged Illyasviel and Miyu into some other dimension?" Luvia concluded. "Do you have any proof?"

"No, I don't," Rin sighed. "At this stage it's just… my instinct."

"It sounds like you're discussing something really interesting."

"Y-you're-!"

Stepping into the room through the window, the uninvited guest smiled widely at the two young magi in front of her. Rin looked like she had just seen a ghost, and Luvia looked as though Bazett had come in holding Shero's dead body.

"What's this I hear about my cute daughters?" Irisviel von Einzbern asked. "Do fill me in, won't you?"

As the beautiful woman beamed, her face a sight that would make many men swoon, a thunderstorm rumbled in the distance behind her. Even though they were trained magi, Rin and Luvia could not help but take a step back from the force of nature that was just a few meters in front of them.

"You'll tell me everything, won't you~?" she asked sweetly.

For the first time in her life, Tohsaka Rin and Luvia Edelfelt knew what true fear felt like.

Chapter Text

When she finally came to her senses, she was alone.

It was like waking up from a lucid dream; one moment she could be walking down the corridor at school or strolling along the streets of Fuyuki, and the next moment she could be lying on her bed at home. It felt pretty much like that, only this time she was not waking up in her room. Or anywhere she was familiar with, for that matter.

Tall, foreboding shadows surrounded her, their misshapen forms blending into the darkness around them. Weak, thin beams of moonlight seeped through the occasional cracks, glowing helplessly against the black sea that they had briefly intruded upon. However, even if they were weak, they still managed to grant her some warmth, illuminating a fraction of the world around her.

Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she heaved a sigh of relief. The shadows around her had not been people or monsters, but simply trees that grew in abundance as far as the eye could see. They could do her no harm, but she still found her relief to be short-lived; she had no idea how she had gotten herself here, or where this place even was.

And above all, she could tell that she was not alone.

The air was still, and nothing moved in the shadows. Her vision did not extend very far, but she could see that she was alone in this space. Even the air was still, and a shroud of silence enveloped the entire forest. It was a scene that would have been considered 'tranquil' – if not for the strange presence lingering around.

She could not tell how she knew, but there was something there. Something – or someone – here, in this part of the forest with her, out of sight but surely there. The more she stood there, the more she could feel the presence all around her, crushing her. But she could not bring herself to move. To escape.

Holy… Graill…

She could feel the chill invading every cell of her body just from hearing that disembodied voice. A tight, viselike grip wrapped itself around her throat, forcing out a weak helpless sound that might have been a plea. No help would come, and no one would ever hear her cries. Not even him – the one person who had brought light into her life.

Holy Grail…

And just like that, the presence disappeared. Without warning and without reason, it went just as it had come. Dissipating into nothingness, as though it had never existed, the strange yet overwhelming force released her from its unforgiving chains.

She gasped for breath as her knees gave way, unable to support her for a moment longer. Her body was sticky with cold sweat, and her heart was hammering wildly against her ribcage. It had been far too long since she last felt that kind of fear – a little over ten years ago, in fact, when she had found herself amidst the writhing hellhole of her grandfather's making.

Holy Grail.

That was the one name that shapeless monster had uttered. It was the one thing the unseen abomination craved, and in order to attain this impossible miracle, it had called her here.

She froze. She had no idea why she was here, or how she even got here in the first place. For that matter, she did not even know where this place was, if it even was a place on Earth. So how could she have known that the formless thing had called her here?

Icy fingers clawed at her chest, trying desperately to quell the shaking that had overcome them. She did not know how, but something inside her knew what the presence earlier was. Something buried deep within had resonated with that… thing, and it was a part of her. Or she was a part of it.

"Senpai…"

Swallowed up by the darkness around her, was Matou Sakura's terrified plea.

"… Save me…"

-

Gilgamesh looked up, the glass of wine inches away from his lips. He seldom expressed interest in anything else when in the middle of drinking, so for him to bother looking up like he had could be said to be a small miracle.

The era he currently graced with his presence was pathetic, ugly, and a downright disgrace compared to the days when he was King (he still was, just he no longer had a throne). The people had become mere livestock, swarming his land like locusts or plague-carrying vermin. They were parasites, insignificant and powerless, and he would have to have someone cull their numbers someday. He had no interest in them, for they were weak; they had no power worthy of mention, and were millennia away from being worthy enough to bask in his glorious presence. The only exceptions to that were far too few in number.

The first, he had slain with his most prized treasure. The man was the very embodiment of conquest – a phenomenon in his own right who had united an army with his endless dream. He was a worthy foe, and a Heroic Spirit befitting of being called a 'legend'. Gilgamesh knew – and if he knew it, it was an absolute, inviolable truth – that the world would never see a man like that ever again.

The second was one he had deemed worthy to be his bride. Ephemeral, beautiful, and crushed by the weight of hopes and dreams beyond her ability, she possessed a staunch belief in her mistaken ideals. Her despair, radiance, and that ludicrous sense of responsibility bordering on insanity… Those qualities made her desirable. And because she was desirable, she was to be his.

And now this. It felt like a Servant, yet at the same time, it was different. Whatever it was, it was powerful. Nowhere as powerful as the King of Heroes of course, but enough to squash the likes to that rabid dog Kirei had lost to some doll earlier. It was not a threat, but it was a disturbing presence.

It almost felt like…

For the second time, he had entertained that thought. That ridiculous idea that could never be reality. Had he fallen to the ranks of lowly mongrels, wallowing in uncertainty and doubt like a lost lamb?

"What he farce," he said. No one was around to hear those words, but he had said them anyway; it was the mongrels' loss that they were unable to hear their extolled King's words, not that they were worthy of hearing it anyway.

He knew it was not possible, and when he knew something, it was the absolute law of the world. Of the universe. Of existence itself. As such, such a ridiculous thing did not exist.

Except it did.

Had he acted on that minute suspicion, the King of Heroes might have erased that bothersome presence. Had he decided to lift a finger to pluck that weed, it would not have been able to grow. But simply because he was not as absolute as he had believed himself to be, Gilgamesh was unable to foresee what was about to transpire.

Sensing the vessel of the Holy Grail to be within its reach, the Eighth Class Card stretched out a hand. If the grotesque mass of inky darkness could even be called a hand. Just a little longer, and it would attain its most desired treasure. Just a little longer, and it would claim the forbidden chalice even it had no idea why it sought.

"Holy… Grail…"

-

"… So let me get this straight."

Emiya Shirou had decent grades. He was not a genius like Tohsaka, nor was he a complete idiot, but he was at least capable of understanding things without too much trouble.

"You're a parallel world version of the Master of Berserker, you're her cousin, and you're her friend who's not a part of this universe either. You crossed over when you were doing some sort of exploration task given by the Tohsaka of your world."

"Y-yes."

"You can transform with those two… Mystic Codes, was it? And with them you can access a toned down version of the Servants' powers with their respective cards."

"That sounds about right."

So why did it feel like his brain was about to overheat?

Saber was silent as she stared straight at Illya, her expression unreadable. Whether or not she believed her words was uncertain at this point. Lancer did not say a word.

"Illyasviel," the blond warrior said at last, causing Illya to flinch. "Illya," she corrected. "Do I have your word that everything you have said is indeed true, and that you can vouch for these two companions with you?"

"O-of course!" Illya said, edging away from her a little. Saber was looking at her straight in the eyes, and it was scary. "T-they're my precious friends!"

"Please look me in the eye, Illya," Saber requested firmly. When Illya finally did with some reluctance, she went on, "Do I have your word?"

Illya tried not to cower under the sheer pressure from the Servant, but it was a difficult task. Eventually summoning enough courage to not break the eye contact, she inhaled deeply.

"Yes," she replied. "I promise you, Saber."

"… Very well," Saber said at last. "I apologize for being rude earlier. I shall believe your words, Illya. I will fight by your side."

"T-thank you, Saber!" Illya said, her eyes wide with relief. "Let's get along-"

"Hold on."

The room went silent as Lancer spoke up, and Saber twitched. Although no weapons were out and no fighting stances were assumed, a distinct sense of hostility still poured out of the Servant of the spear.

"I don't really care about all this alternate universe talk," he said. "But there's one question I have to ask: you, brat," he looked straight at Illya. "You somehow broke the Contract between me and my Master. What sort of magecraft did you use?"

"C-Contract?" Illya wondered aloud. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I just used the Caster Include because… because I thought it would beat Berserker, and…"

The rest of her sentence was lost in a series of inaudible mutters, fading into the uncomfortable silence left by Lancer's question. That silence went on for quite a bit, until Lancer finally gave in and sighed. He sometimes forgot that the kid was really as clueless as she appeared to be.

"Well, I never did understand magecraft in the first place," he grumbled. "The magic I use is a lot simpler. But whatever. The fact right now is that you're my Master, right?"

"I-I… I guess?" Illya asked, looking at the Command Seals on the back of her hand. "I-it wasn't my intention though…"

"I'm not blaming you, kid," Lancer clarified. "Rather, I'm rather glad I don't have to go back to my previous Master anymore. But make no mistake, brat: I have no intention of becoming your ally."

"Eh?"

Saber stood up instantly, putting herself between Lancer and Illya with her invisible sword in hand. Lancer met her glare, but did not make a move. In fact, he did not even have his spear out.

"What is the meaning of this, Lancer?" Saber asked. "Do you mean to do your Master harm?"

"Don't get me wrong, Saber," Lancer replied calmly. "I may be happy to be rid of my previous Master, but it doesn't mean I'll just accept a sudden change like that. Betrayal rubs me the wrong way, and even if he was a piece of filth he was still my Master. This kid has made me turn my back on my master, and I can't stand it."

"So what is it you wish to do?" Saber asked, not lowering her sword. "Do you intend on returning to your former master's side?"

"No way," Lancer said immediately. "I'd rather get slain by your Holy Sword here right now. That said, I'm not without pride. If you want my power, kid, use your Command Seal. A knight will never turn against his master, so if you want me to be your spear you'll have to make me."

"You ought to do what he says, Illya," Kuro muttered. "Who knows what he'll do when we're asleep or not looking. It's dangerous to just leave him be."

"I agree with Kuro," Miyu added. Being the logical one, she naturally took Kuro's side.

But unfortunately for them, Illya was not a person who acted on logic; she was the kind to act on feelings.

"I… won't use it," she said. "It just… it just feels wrong to force someone to do something they don't want to do…"

"So you want me to turn against my Master of my own will?" Lancer asked. He had no trouble with impaling Kotomine, but to serve under a third Master in this war… he could not bring himself to face Bazett if he accepted it.

"N-no, not that!" Illya denied quickly. "I-it's just that… instead of being your Master… couldn't we just be friends instead?"

He had long since lost count, but Lancer was once again rendered speechless that night. He had no idea if what he had just heard had been a joke or not, or if he had heard it wrong altogether. Did she just say 'friends'?

"Um… Is it no good…?" Illya asked timidly.

The room was silent. Painfully silent. Amidst the two legendary heroes who transcended human limits, a tense atmosphere pulsated. The humans caught up in this atmosphere could only watch – and hold their breaths – as the silence marched on. Every next fleeting second could be the last they would ever see, and even then they were not sure if they would be able to see it coming.

Caught in the middle of it all, Shirou understood fully that these were beings out of his league. Their very existence defied common sense, and their powers reality. It was almost difficult to believe that they even needed a Holy Grail to grant their wishes if they were this powerful. If they so wanted, they could reduce this entire house to rubble. Now, it was merely a matter of who acted first.

Lancer was the first to make a move.

Instead of replying, Lancer simply broke the silence by bursting into gales of baleful laughter. Faced with the surprised faces of Illya, Kuro, Miyu, Saber and Shirou (and possibly the two Mystic Codes floating around), the Heroic Spirit of the spear just laughed. And laughed.

"That's a good one, kid!" he chortled. "'Friends', you say? That's a real good one!"

"U-uh, s-so…" Illya began.

"Save your Command Seals, kid," Lancer said. "You're one interesting magus, so I'll tag along with you for a bit."

Walking past Saber, who had lowered her weapon, Lancer stood in front of the silver-haired girl and extending a hand, he smirked.

"Let's get along, kid," he offered.

Illya was positively glowing as she took his hand, giving it an enthusiastic shake. Lancer played out, letting her bring his hand up and down as though he was a normal human. She was childish, straightforward, but that made her rather amusing.

"I look forward to working with you, Setanta-san!" she said cheerfully.

"… You're going to need to change that way of addressing me."

-

Emiya Shirou stifled what must have been his fortieth yawn. Last night had been chaotic and confusing to say the least, and they were apparently going to continue the conversation later that night.

"I have questions about the abilities that you use," Saber had said, referring to the girl who had donned her armor – Miyu. "I'm sure Lancer shares my sentiments regarding Illya."

And then Shirou, the master of being a greenhorn in serious magical conflicts, suggested that they postpone the discussion until he returned from school.

In his mind, he had hoped that they would just agree to get some rest, and that he could just crash for however little hours he had left until sunrise. However, naïveté was apparently one of his strong points – a trait he found out after being bombarded by salvo of protests.

"Are you out of your mind, Master?" Saber asked so seriously Shirou actually doubted his mental stability. "You cannot be serious about going to a public place alone in the middle of the Holy Grail War!"

"That's right!" Illya added before Shirou could reply. "It's too dangerous, onii- Shirou!"

"I agree with Illya and Arturia-san," Miyu said meekly.

"Wha-" Saber began, unable to contain her shock.

"Same here," Kuro cooed. "I want to spend more time with onii-chan after all…"

And then the scene dissolved into chaos. When he had finally got into his futon, his alarm was already ringing. How he managed to convince them to let him go after that was a mystery. At least Sakura was not around to witness it.

… Sakura.

The kouhai who had always been there to help with the household chores and meals had not been around that morning. He had long since gotten used to her presence around the house, so a morning without her around just felt wrong to Shirou. Had something happened to her?

No way, he assured himself. Rather, it's more odd for a girl her age to visit me every morning…

She was, simply put, a beautiful woman. Not only that, she had the grades and personality to make her an idol for worship among the guys at school. Personally, Shirou could never bring himself to see her in that light, but that was proving to be… difficult lately.

What am I thinking? He chastised himself. She's Sakura! She's a friend, and… and, well…

"What's with that face, Emiya?"

Shutting out his internal conflicts, Shirou turned towards his classmate and… friend? He supposed they managed to get along somewhat, but he was certainly not all that friendly with the man known as Matou Shinji.

"You look pretty bad," he went on without waiting for Shirou's reply. "I mean, everyone looks like garbage compared to me, but you look even worse than usual today."

"I-I'm fine," Shirou said tiredly. "I just didn't get enough sleep tonight. I mean yesterday night. That's all…"

"Is that right?" Shinji said offhandedly, clearly already bored; he had asked the question out of the magnanimous capacity he possessed, and he could not care less how Emiya really felt. Those without power or talent should just grovel at the feet of geniuses like him. "How about this, Emiya: Mitsuzuri asked me to clean up the archery dojo after school, but since I'm way too busy, why not you do it instead? Should be good exercise to wake you up."

"… Sure thing," Shirou replied. Had he been anyone else, he might have questioned his immediate acceptance of that request, but he was Emiya Shirou. In other words, he did bother to think of anything besides helping someone, even if said someone was Matou Shinji.

And because he was such a person, Emiya Shirou walked into the fangs of death a second time.

"I knew I could count on you, Emiya," Shinji said, his tone nothing but condescending as he stood up. "It's a job that suits you more than it does me, after all."

Are you listening, Rider?

Stepping out of the classroom with his mouth still closed, Matou Shinji smiled. If that crooked shape that split his face could even be called that anymore.

A tinge of raw rage colored his face. He was the most gifted Magus of the Matou house, and there was no one alive who could match him in anything he wished to do. There was nothing he could not accomplish, and there was no one who could turn him down when he offered to help them. All except for one.

And to make things worse, she had chosen him over him. She had chosen Emiya Shirou.

After school, head to the archery dojo and kill him, he ordered in his mind. Actually, play around with him a little first. It wouldn't hurt to make him suffer a bit before we finish him off.

Beside him, out of sight and completely unheard by the crowds of passing students, his Servant replied.

Understood.

Chapter Text

“Right then, how about we get down to business, girls?”

Under any other circumstance, Tohsaka Rin would have told the person who asked her that to shut up. In some alternate universe, she might have attacked said person with her gems. Unfortunately for the broke magus, however, this was not some other circumstance, and she was not in another universe; this was reality, and she had just angered an unstoppable force of nature.

She had had a bad feeling when Irisviel first stepped into the room, but she had not been expecting that. Or that or THAT either. Or what happened to Luvia. For the first time ever, she actually felt sorry for her rival. Somewhat.

Watching the two girls as they staggered to their feet, their faces pale and hair in disarray, the demon in human form that was Irisviel von Einzbern smiled. She was, or tended to be, a gentle and affable mother who lived with her loving family and had a good life. When her daughter’s safety was in doubt, however, there was nothing in all of Heaven or Hell that could stop her.

“L-Lady Irisviel,” Luvia panted, still traumatized from the ‘punishment’ she had brought upon herself with her supposed negligence. “I-I implore you to leave this matter in our hands-”

“Oh my,” Iri said in a good-natured manner, smiling sweetly at the pair of skilled magi before her. “I guess I wasn’t convincing enough earlier, huh?”

As she said that, a thin, glowing serpent flew out from under her sleeve. Without any discernable commands from Iri, the luminescent snake – which turned out to be an enchanted length of wire – coiled itself into what appeared to be a giant fist.

“When you wake up,” she said cheerfully, with a smile that would melt any man’s heart. “Be sure to tell me e-ver-y-thing, okay~?”

Rin and Luvia opened their mouths to say something. Perhaps to plead for mercy. Possibly to apologize for incurring her wrath.

Iri’s massive fist swiftly ended that conversation.

-

“… And that’s all of the information we have at hand,” Rin said calmly, trying her hardest to maintain an air of dignified grace while ignoring the pain from the giant bruise on her head.

“Mm… I see!” Iri said happily. “So in other words, you’re completely clueless at this point then?”

Rin looked like she was just stabbed with a knife.

“Please correct me if I’m wrong,” Luvia interjected. “But would it be a mistake on my part to think that you might know more about this, Lady Irisviel?”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You once mentioned something called the ‘Holy Grail War’ to Miyu and the others,” Luvia pointed out, neglecting to mention she had only attained that information from asking Miyu. The young girl had been pretty shaken up about it back then, too, but that was not her main priority now. “We’ve looked into it on our end, an we’ve discovered that the Heroic Spirits’ classes from the Class Cards are not entirely unrelated to this ritual.”

“I see,” Iri said, her smile slowly sliding off her face. “What about it?”

A brief flicker of something appeared in her eyes as she said that. Finding out about what she had told the girls was easy; looking up on something that was pretty much deliberately hidden from the rest of the world was not. To have been capable of researching about the Holy Grail War, however little, was an impressive feat.

I might have underestimated her a little, she thought. Just a tiny bit.

“As I understand, such a ritual never happened,” Luvia replied. “Your daughter Illyasviel is connected to it somehow, and coupled with the emergence of Kuro, who appears to be a physical manifestation of suppressed memories… I can only suspect that you, as someone who knows about this ritual, somehow tampered with it. Am I mistaken?”

“… No, that’s correct,” Iri answered. “The Holy Grail War never happened, and now we’re making sure it never occurs again.”

“And yet, the Class Cards exist,” Rin spoke up. “So does this mean that the-”

“No, that’s impossible,” Iri cut across her sharply. “As long as I’m here, it can’t be happening.”

“… Then the possibility of this being another Grail altogether?” Luvia asked, raising an eyebrow at Iri’s words.

“It’s not possible, since it requires a huge ritual to reproduce a proper Holy Grail,” Iri replied. “I would know about it if it existed.”

“Then what if the Grail came from another plane of existence?”

Turning to face the part-time maid that was Tohsaka Rin, Luvia and Iri took a moment to absorb what she had just said.

“What do you mean?” Luvia asked slowly.

“I’ve always wondered what the Mirror World actually was,” Rin began. “It’s clearly not a place in our dimension, and we required the two idiot sticks – Second Magic Mystic Codes – to enter or leave.”

“What of it?” Luvia asked.

“So we know it’s a separate dimension from ours,” Rin went on. “But it’s not a proper plane of existence since it became smaller the more cards we retrieved. So how did it come about? And these Class Cards – parallel versions of the Heroic Spirits that would have been summoned in the Holy Grail War that never happened here – how did they come about?”

“You do realize what you’re suggesting is impossible?” Luvia questioned. “If the Mirror World was a parallel version of the one we live in, it can’t possibly alter its size based on-”

“What if it’s only a platform between parallel worlds?”

Luvia fell silent.

“What if this Mirror World exists because the parallel world where these Class Cards originated somehow resonated or connected with ours, and the Mirror World is the result of two overlapping realities?”

“That’s… certainly possible,” Luvia muttered. “So you’re saying Miyu and the others accidentally jumped across to possibly another universe?”

“That, or maybe…” Rin chewed on a nail as she considered that thought. “… They were pulled over by something on the other side.”

“What makes you say that?” Luvia asked, unable to keep up with her queer train of thought.

“The distortion,” Rin replied. “It significantly vanished when they Jumped, and even the Eighth Card disappeared. The distortion clearly isn’t something from our world, and it’s definitely related to the Class Cards – in other worlds, the parallel Holy Grail. It’s possible that it reacted to the Class Cards themselves and drew them in, pulling Illya and Miyu along.”

“Now that you mention it,” Luvia said. “Whenever we encountered the Heroic Spirit of the Class Card, it was always in a hostile, maddened state. Considering their identities after analyzing their Noble Phantasms, it’s quite odd that these ‘Heroes’ would be so hostile towards us, especially when unprovoked. Do you suppose this distortion somehow… ‘tainted’ them?”

“But to interfere with the Servants like this…” Iri mumbled under her breath. “It’d have to be the work of the Holy Grail…But… it wouldn’t, unless… a corrupt… Grail…”

She shuddered. For reasons she was unable to explain, there was a sudden and painful chill running down her spine at that thought. That unthinkable, impossible thought.

“Maybe that was what caused their disappearance,” Rin concluded. “Of course, there’s no solid evidence to back it up, so at this point it’s just a hypothesis.”

A heavy silence followed those words. There were still plenty of things to discuss, but no one opened their mouth to speak. It was not so much that they were unwilling to face more issues on top of their existing problems, but more of a silent resignation that they were powerless to the situation at hand.

Unfeeling towards their predicament, time marched mercilessly on, and the world continued to move forward. For a place she had once held such fascination towards, Iri could no longer see it as anything more than a hostile force trying its hardest to make her family suffer.

Please be alright, Illya, she prayed.

-

Lancer, otherwise known as Setanta-san, was a warrior. A fighter. A champion. A hero. He was skilled and fierce, unmatched in combat and the perfect spearman. He had braved countless battles, and had slain many great warriors who deserved to fall by his lance. He had lived through the tragedy that was his life until the bitter end, knowingly and happily tossing aside the prospect of a long life for honor and glory. He was a proud Heroic Spirit, and he was a legend.

Now, he was watching two elementary schoolgirls kiss.

Granted, that had not been his intention. He was merely seeking to speak to his… Master? About something when he noticed it. Specifically, he noticed two floating Mystic Codes outside the door to Illya’s room.

“Oi,” he called out. “What’re you-”

“Shh!” the red one, Ruby, said immediately. There was a camera sticking out of her… body, he assumed. “Keep it down!”

“Nee-san,” the blue one, Sapphire, said in a rather calm but exasperated voice. “I should like to think that this is going overboard.”

“Oh, lighten up, Sapphire-chan!” Ruby said cheerfully. “Tormen- I mean, messing around lightly with my Master is what I live for after all!”

Lancer was just about to ask what the camera was for, when a rather familiar and panicked voice reached his ears. It was, surely enough, Illya’s voice.

“W-wait a bit, Kuro!” she was saying, backing up against the wall like a frightened kitten. “M-my heart’s not ready, and-!”

“What? You want me to disappear?” Kuro asked, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “After all that you said about wanting me to live… was that a lie, onee-chan?”

“Wha- You-” Illya stammered, evidently affected by the usage of that term. “Y-you’re just saying that so you’ll get your way…!”

“Well, if you’re so unwilling, I could always ask Shirou,” Kuro suggested, the look in her eyes more sly by the second. “I’m sure he would agree to help me, being the kind-hearted onii-chan he is…”

“N-no!” Illya shrieked, her cheeks a delicate shade of scarlet. “Absolutely not! D-don’t you dare!”

“Well, there is a way to stop me,” Kuro reminded her, edging closer to Illya. “And I’m sure you know what it is, don’t you…?”

Lancer had no idea a human’s face could look so similar to a ripe tomato, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. Before he could shrug off that thought, however, something very… odd happened.

Having seen Illya go limp and resigned to her inevitable fate, Kuro smirked, closed in, and planted her lips solidly on Illya’s. The rest of their exchange was lost in a series of mild, suggestive and legally questionable noises.

Sapphire was observing silently. Ruby was filming with great enthusiasm while apparently breathing hard. Lancer almost dug his own eyes out.

He had always thought his Master was strange, but this was something else. A complete greenhorn to magecraft and the Holy Grail War aside, she had even gone as far as to suggest being friends instead of becoming Master and Servant. In the face of his staunch adherence to his own code of honor, she had put up no resistance. He had had no intention of defending that scum Kotomine – he had merely wanted to defend his own pride as a knight – and he had been perfectly prepared to be bent to her will by a Command Seal. But instead of doing that, Illya simply asked if they could just be friends. So yes, she was probably a little strange. But he did not see this coming.

“So… She swings that way?” he asked, in too much shock to realize he was speaking to a bunch of magic sticks. And that he was not stopping Ruby from filming any further.

“Please do not misunderstand,” Sapphire said calmly. “It might appear to be like that, but Illya-sama is merely providing Kuro-sama with mana so that she can maintain her combat efficiency.”

“Uh huh,” Lancer stated flatly. “Well, I’m in no position to question my Mast- er, her preferences, so whatever. But-”

At this, he reached out and grabbed Ruby with one hand so swiftly neither Mystic Code reacted in time. The simple action actually shook the air with its sheer force.

“-what do you think you’re doing filming it?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous as he tightened his grip. “Just because I lived in a different era doesn’t mean I can’t spot technology when I see it, you know.”

“You’re saying that now?!” Ruby asked, struggling in vain to escape his claws. “R-Ruby-chan won’t give in to violence! No siree!”

“Delete it,” Lancer ordered. “Or we’ll see if your body or spirit breaks first.”

Before Ruby could reply (possibly with a rather offensive remark that would have gotten her crushed and burned to cinder without remorse), the sliding doors opened fully, revealing a rather curious Kuro and, most unfortunately, an utterly mortified Illya.

“Well, well,” she said. “Peeping on little girls, are we? What fine tastes you have.”

“Whoa, hold your horses,” Lancer raised a hand defensively as Illya’s eyes began flooding with tears. “I just saw this one-” he gave Ruby a rough shake to emphasize his point. “-recording something so I came here to see what the fuss was about. Besides, you really think I’m interested in-”

“… Since when?”

Her voice was quiet, but there was a certain degree of danger in Illya’s voice that made even Lancer go on alert. Walking over to the trio at the door, Illya repeated her question with barely suppressed emotion.

“… Since when have you been recording?”

She was visibly shaking at this point, though it was difficult to tell if it was because of anger or embarrassment. It was quite likely both, Lancer concluded, considering the crimson cheeks and teary eyes.

Instead of answering, Ruby merely gave off a ‘click’ sound and started playing what she recorded. That is, both visual and audio. Projected onto the floor like a high quality video.

The world went silent for a few seconds. Completely silent, except for the video of two elementary schoolgirls kissing playing from the camera of a certain Mystic Code.

In a voice loud enough to shatter eardrums, Illyasviel von Einzbern screamed.

-

Saber sighed, putting down the card that had been politely offered to her. Sure, she could feel traces of mana from it, but the Saber Class Card was, at best, just a Mystic Code. Nothing about it told her how it could have summoned that armor, sword and most importantly, provided the user with her identity (and according to said user, knowledge of Saber’s entire life up till her death as well).

“… So what you’re saying,” she spoke up at last. “Is that what you wielded last night was not the real Noble Phantasm?”

Her conversation partner – a quiet, black-haired girl named Miyu – nodded.

“It’s close, but not entirely the same,” she said calmly. “After accessing… your… memories, I have a good idea how powerful Ex-”

“Please do not say that name out loud,” Saber warned sharply. “We know not of any vile enemies that might be listening in on this conversation.”

“Yes, I see,” Miyu complied calmly. She was far too composed for a kid her age – a stark contrast Saber noticed between her and Illya. She actually reminded Saber a little of someone she met ten years ago, back in the days of the Fourth Holy Grail War. “I meant to say that I have a good idea on how powerful your Noble Phantasm is, Saber-san. But the Installed version I used can’t reach that level of output.”

After a rather brief discussion last night, Miyu had finally accepted the idea that using Saber’s true name was a bad idea. ‘Saber-san’ was a result of that, and while it was an improvement, Saber simply wished she would drop the honorifics.

“Well, setting that aside,” Saber went on. “While I have no objections about you using my power, I would like to request that you use it in such a way that does not compromise my identity. It would be advisable to use Invisible Air like I do to conceal it.”

“But… I don’t have that Noble Phantasm,” Miyu pointed out. “The only weapon that comes out is the sword itself.”

“I see,” Saber replied. “That’s troubling.”

The conversation seemed to end at that, with neither side speaking up anymore. It was a blissful moment, allowing them a momentary period of relaxation to collect their thoughts. After the chaotic and confusing events of the night before, it was nice to have a little peace and quiet before eventually grilling Shirou for going to school in the middle of a war.

Said peace and quiet, however, was shattered by the refined screams of a young silver-haired maiden.

In a single swift, fluid motion, Saber got to her feet and practically flew out of the dojo. Miyu, who had to resort to her own human limits, followed shortly after, but Saber was already halfway down the corridor by the time the latter reached the door.

“Illya, are you-”

The rest of Saber’s question went unasked. One could hardly blame her for that, since he had rushed into the scene expecting an enemy. What she got, however, was… something different.

At a glance, it was just Lancer, holding a Mystic Code in his hand that happened to be playing a video with questionable content. Right in front of him were the two girls who just so happened to be in the video, one looking downright mortified and the other blushing while brandishing a single sword in her hand. Whether the latter was intending to attack Lancer or Ruby was anyone’s guess.

“Lancer,” Saber said, a brilliant flame igniting in her stern eyes. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I’m just as confused as you are,” Lancer said, dropping Ruby and raising both hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t give me that look, miss King of Knights; I had nothing to do with this!”

Saber glared at the spearman for a good five seconds before offering him a slight nod. They may not have been well acquainted, but at the very least, they shared a degree of understanding as true warriors. Even without a verbal exchange, much was said in those five seconds with uncanny eloquence.

“Then the cause,” Saber concluded, as Miyu finally caught up. Catching Ruby, who had been attempting to escape amidst the confusion, Saber looked at her like she was the largest cockroach she had ever laid eyes on. “Must be this cursed thing.”

“E-eh?” Ruby asked innocently. The video was no longer playing – much to Illya’ and Kuro’s relief – but it did not erase the heinous crimes she had just committed. “What might you be talking about~? Ruby-chan is innocent as can be, don’t you know~?”

While Saber processed the outrage she would express to that act, Ruby snickered in an oddly human but also clearly malicious way. Sapphire knew that snicker all too well; it was the sound her sister always made when she had a way (typically a bad one) to escape a precarious situation.

“An opening!” she declared triumphantly. “Simulation Mode, on!”

Silence. For a moment, everyone just stood there waiting for something terrible to happen. They simply waited her out, expecting something that would follow up with that queer command. But nothing happened.

“…Eh?” Ruby wondered aloud.

“Is this… Magecraft?” Saber asked, still gripping the Mystic Code tightly. “I do not know what fiendish tricks you have in mind, but the Saber Class’s Anti-Magic is not so weak that the likes of you can surpass it.”

“E-er…” Ruby mumbled nervously.

“Now, what shall we do with the troublemaker?” Kuro asked, positively beaming as she held up a replica of one of Archer’s swords. “I vote we cut her up into tiny pieces~”

“Yes, that sounds acceptable,” Saber replied coldly, applying more force to the winged ring thing in her hand.

“I-Illya-san!” Ruby pleaded. “Please help me! They’re going to do horrible things to me!”

“Mm,” Illya said monotonously, nodding to herself. Her eyes looked pretty dead right then, and even her smile seemed out of place. “Isn’t that fine? Considering what you put me through…”

“Such coldhearted words without regret?!” Ruby exclaimed. “S-Sapphire-chan! H-help me!”

“I’m sorry, but you reap what you sow, nee-san,” Sapphire replied calmly, floating over to Miyu.

“Et tu, Sapphire?!” Ruby cried. Those cries soon died down, however, as Lancer approached her as well, leaving her no room for escape. “Er… Well… T-that was all just fun and games, so no hard feelings, right? Y-you guys won’t do anything to me, right? I’m just a fragile wand, you know!”

The look in their eyes told her they had heard her loud and clear. And then they proceeded to hear her louder and clearer.

-

Shirou groaned as he dropped the rug in his hand. Reaching for his chest and gripping a handful of his uniform, he sat down on the floor of the dojo in an attempt to catch his breath. It would have been understandable had he already started on cleaning the place, but the floor was completely untouched.

The odd sensation that had been causing him so much discomfort was still present even now, despite having had some rest after lessons finished (courtesy of Issei). He had initially blamed it on the lack of sleep, but Shirou was starting to wonder if it was something else entirely now.

Maybe it’s because I became a Master, he wondered. Is this what Illya and Tohsaka feel as well…?

Taking a deep breath, which achieved absolutely nothing, Shirou picked up the rug again. If it was just some strange sticky sensation, then he could just bear with it; he could not just break his promise over a little fatigue, after all.

“Besides,” he said aloud to the empty archery range. “It’s been a long time since I came back here, so I might as well make the most of it.”

The dojo, naturally, did not answer him, but it did not mean that he was alone. Within the shadows cast by the wooden roof, someone – or something – observed the young man, invisible to the human eye and deadlier than any force on Earth.

The sun began to sink over the horizon, casting a warm vermilion glow over the school. The gentle hue seeped into even the darkest corners, bathing Rider in its warmth despite her being in her astral form.

She watched the young child work tirelessly at the job that was not even his. He had no reason to accept her Master’s unreasonable demands, and he had nothing to gain from such a deal. Yet, he carried on with such enthusiasm it actually made her hesitate.

He was, as Sakura had said, a nice person. There was hardly any evil in this man, and that was surprising enough by itself. The man was far too selfless for his own good – a trait in perfect contrast to Shinji’s. Perhaps that was why he wanted Emiya Shirou dead.

She watched the light in enveloping the dojo die out, slowly giving in to the chill of night. The young man was breathing his last few breaths, and once the light died out, he would join the countless corpses she had left in her wake.

Forgive me, child, she apologized in her mind. Forgive me, Sakura.

The hours crawled by, and the unsuspecting boy continued at his task without pause. Depriving himself of the chance to escape, Emiya Shirou worked well into the night, finally finishing when it was almost completely dark out.

“That sure took a while,” he said to himself. “Hope Saber and the rest aren’t too angry…”

And that was it. Nothing more was said, and before he could even react to the sound of metal tearing across the air, something swift and sharp buried itself into Shirou’s shoulder. Unable to even catch a glimpse of the weapon that had struck him, Shirou was slammed into a wall by the force of the thrust.

Coughing violently, Shirou glanced at the hole in his shoulder. The wound was rather large, but was strangely not bleeding. He had not felt the weapon being pulled out of his arm, and it had most certainly not penetrated his arm itself either. And yet, it felt like the weapon was still lodged inside his flesh.

Before he could dwell on it, however, Shirou’s arm jerked forward by itself, pulling him along with it as though alive. Slamming him into another wall and knocking the wind out of him, the invisible weapon dug a little deeper, finally eliciting a yell from his lips.

“How’s that, Emiya? Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Through the hazy bits of his consciousness, Shirou recognized that voice. Despite the pain and utter confusion flooding his brain, he was able to let a fraction of surprise dominate his thoughts.

“S… Shinji?” he gasped.

“That’s right; it’s me!” Matou Shinji declared triumphantly, walking into the dojo with a woman behind him. “What do you think, Emiya? My Rider’s pretty powerful, right?”

Shirou found himself staring at the strange woman named Rider, who seemed to be emanating a strange force he had become all too familiar with lately. Sporting long violet hair and wearing a lilac mask of sorts over her eyes, the woman had a strange symbol tattooed over her forehead. If not for the life-threatening situation at hand, Shirou might even have thought that her attire was inappropriate for a lady. But this was not some friendly introduction.

The woman was a Servant. He was sure of it. The sheer presence she possessed was enough to fill the dojo and overwhelm him, and she had not even moved yet. This was a foe out of his league, and not something any human could have a chance in defeating. Like Berserker, she was not someone Shirou had any hopes of taking on without his own Servant. But unlike Berserker, Rider did not reek of the same level of danger that the mad-enhanced behemoth had. Perhaps it had something to do with her not being a Berserker herself, but Shirou found himself unable to comprehend why exactly that was.

“You’re… a Master?” he asked, slowly getting to his feet.

“That’s right,” Shinji declared, gloating over the fact. “I’m a true magus unlike you, and I’m going to be the one who win this War, Emiya. You small fries who got chosen simply due to the lack of talent should just give up and die.”

“Why… are you…”

“But seriously, look at you,” Shinji sneered. “Not even bringing your Servant with you to school in case something like this happened… Not that they would be able to defeat my Rider, but still… Since you’re that eager to die, I guess I could always put you out of your-”

Drowning out the rest of his condescending speech was a multitude of loud explosions, blowing up the floor of the dojo. It would have incinerated Shinji too, had it not been for the swift reaction from Rider; sensing the danger and picking up her Master, she was able to pull him out of harm’s way at the last minute.

Shirou, who was in the clear, managed to see the attack clearly. Not that it helped much, since all he saw was several beams of light blasting through the roof and obscuring his view of anything else, but it did give him a clear view of his supposed savior.

“To one-sidedly attack a defenseless Master… how deplorable.”

Dark purple cloak. A deep-colored shroud masking her face, and a cape that spread out ominously like wings against the dark. She was not the image of an angel or a saint, but she possessed an aura that made her almost otherworldly, as though she was only wearing the appearance of a human being. This entity, although most certainly a Servant like Saber or Rider, sent chills down Shirou’s spine despite showing no clear hostility towards him.

“Be at ease, child,” Caster assured him with an enigmatic smile. “I’ll protect you.”

Chapter Text

She woke to the excruciating pain setting her body on fire. Her limbs did not feel quite like her own, and her nerves were white-hot, plunging her into a sea of agony just by breathing.

For a few brief moments, the pain was all she could register. It was intense – almost impossibly so – but it was ultimately not able to overwhelm her; she was a fighter, and a force not to be trifled with by even the most skilled of magi. She was a phenomenon all by herself – a fact that her captor clearly did not know.

A dull thud ever so softly reached her ears as violent, fresh shockwaves of pain flooded her body. Ignoring it and gritting her teeth, she continued to push herself to her feet, dismissing the pain that would have crippled countless men with sheer willpower. It felt like her arm would break at any time supporting her weight, but that did not deter Bazett.

“Ugh…”

Her own voice sounded alien even to herself. Deprived of strength and filled with a much-loathed sense of weakness, it did nothing except making her put more force into her limbs.

“I have to… get out of here…”

She spoke that line aloud. As though affirming herself of the objective at hand, she voiced out her thoughts, letting the words fill her body and drive out the distractions.

Finally rising to her feet, albeit shakily, Bazett considered her surroundings. There was no light source in the room, but a minimal amount of what she assumed to be moonlight illuminated the gloomy space.

At a glance, it was a normal, everyday room for guests – the kind one would find in a house. The amount of furniture was modest at best, and there was hardly anything to suggest a previous occupant had once lived here. At first glance, that was all it was – a guest room. But that was all that was normal about it.

Magecraft. Simple, powerful magecraft that distorted her sense of reality and sapped her strength. The more she tried to concentrate, to stay alert, the more her vision faded in and out, swimming in a sea of blurry darkness. She could not even summon the strength to clench her fists.

Over the hazy, jumbled mess that was her consciousness, Bazett understood that she was unarmed. The clothes she had been wearing were replaced by some odd-looking dress, devoid of the strengthening runes she always used. She was, right now, just a regular woman unworthy of the Enforcer title. She was effectively a powerless bystander left in the world of magi, and that thought alone sent a chill down her spine.

She had nothing. Stripped of all her abilities and at the mercy of her enemies, she was alone and powerless. There was nothing she could do, and that helplessness flooded her with a wave of unease. That inability to escape her current predicament filled her with anger, filled her with shame.

And most of all, filled her being with an unmistakable sense of fear.

Bazett had always been a human being, contrary to popular belief. Despite her practically invincible front, she was not something completely alien. She was, ultimately, just human.

For all her life, she had to fight her way out. Every problem she had come across, she was able to crush it with her bare hands. Disadvantageous situations were nothing new to her, so fear had never been a part of her world. Never, until now.

The uncertainty of her fate. The overwhelming strength of her enemies. The unmistakable weakness that was her own. All those things came crashing down on her shoulders, threatening to crush her without mercy at any moment. The sheer amount of stress and pressure was enough to render any decent human into a sobbing wreck.

But for the ‘Berserker woman’, it merely spurred her fighting spirit.

Despite having a battered and powerless body, Bazett Fraga McRemitz dragged herself into a sprint towards the door.

-

“U-um…”

Contrary to her confident stance, Illya looked like she had just been told to kick a puppy.

Dressed in the all-too-familiar risqué blue tights and wielding a legendary cursed lance of death, she bore some physical similarities to her opponent, but everything else was way off.

“Hmm,” Lancer mused, appraising his Master’s appearance. “You seriously can’t do something about the clothes? I’d rather not be blamed for corrupting young kids to dress like… that.”

“T-this is Ruby’s idea!” Illya protested, her cheeks a shade away from matching the spear in her hands. She had agreed to this little sparring match, so there was no backing out now, but at this point she was seriously considering finding a hole to dive into. “I-I’m not usually so-”

“Oh my, is that so~?” Ruby teased, bending her head upwards to speak to Illya. Given Illya’s current Installed state, Ruby took on the form and abilities of the crimson spear Gae Bolg. As such, it looked like the entire spear was sentient, bending itself upwards like a snake raising its head. “But the ally of love and justice Ruby-chan doesn’t do things like that~ I merely create the outfit based on my Master’s interests. By the way, Illya-san’s current magical underwear has a Shirou-san print-”

“When did you start doing that?!” Illya exclaimed. “I didn’t hear about that part! Why is that even a thing?!”

“Well, the budget kinda increased after the ‘Beast Mode’ episode aired…”

“You broadcasted it?!”

“Well, as part of the entire reflection meeting, that footage was educational material~”

“Which part was?!”

Watching the heated exchange that had somehow started from seemingly nothing, Lancer raised an eyebrow. He honestly could not tell if he should be pissed at the at the talking, comical Gae Bolg in Illya’s hands, or just be amused at this nonsense.

“And didn’t I tell you to never bring up the Beast Mode outfit ever again?!” Illya was shrieking. “That… t-thing isn’t… isn’t…!”

“Ah, but it increased Illya-san’s destructive power two- no, ten-fold!” Ruby chirped. “Just being in its presence is enough to render countless men powerless!”

“I don’t need that kind of ‘destructive power’!” Illya whined.

“Oh? So you have a stronger form than copying me?” Lancer spoke up, genuinely curious. Maybe the term ‘Beast Mode’ intrigued him. “Bring it out; let’s see how good it is.”

“… Eh?”

Unfazed by Illya’s look of utter bewilderment, Lancer’s eyes were blazing with fighting spirit. It was earnest, too, which made things a whole lot more complicated for the silver-haired girl.

“Ufufufufuufu….” Ruby-Gae Bolg snickered. “Since we have been asked so nicely…”

“W-wai-”

“… let’s do it with a bang!” Ruby finished, proceeding to give off a powerful, mysterious glow. Her protests meaningless in the face of a power she could not resist, Illya felt her body giving in to Ruby’s control as she bathed in that irksome glow. She was well aware of what that sensation meant – that for the next lord knows how long, she would be moving and posing entirely at Ruby’s mercy.

The light faded. Then all sound vanished. Then Ruby suggested a way to break the silence.

Then Illya screamed. Again. And really loudly to boot.

It took all of two seconds for Saber to barge into the dojo with her blade of wind in her hands, and another five to absorb the scene in front of her. Casting a brief glance at Lancer, who looked like he was suffering from a migraine, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Illya,” she said to the girl in questionable clothing with a face that was clearly on fire. “I suggest that we immediately destroy that abomination of a Mystic Code.”

“Eh?” Ruby wondered aloud. “W-wait! In these sort of situations, shouldn’t the man be the one blamed and beaten up?! Why are you looking to hurt me instead?!”

“A true knight does not entertain such vile thoughts,” Saber said firmly. “Prepare yourself, fiend.”

Beast Mode Illya opened her mouth to protest, attempting to point out that in Beast Mode, Ruby was a part of her costume.

“And Illya,” Saber added with a sternness that reminded her of Sella. “We need to talk afterwards.”

Ruby, in a last-ditch effort to escape certain destruction, dispelled the transformation and flew. She was travelling fast – faster than the human eye could track – but that only got her so far before Lancer’s fingers closed in around her.

On that fateful day, the protector of love and justice that was Magical Ruby-chan saw true Hell.

-

“… And thus, as a proper lady, it is only right to wear less revealing clothes,” Saber chastised.

“I-I’m sorry…” a very remorseful Illya replied, sounding and looking deeply ashamed of herself.

Just outside the door, Kuro and Miyu watched the lecture go on and on, the former looking rather amused while the latter was genuinely concerned.

“We can’t catch a break around her, can we?” Kuro mused, watching her little sister get told off for something that was not entirely her fault.

“Mm,” Miyu nodded. “But at least I was able to acquire some good photos.”

… Good for you, then,” Kuro replied. “But still, that Saber… She says she pledged her allegiance to Mama, but this is something else; she sounds like an actual mother…”

“… Yeah, she does,” Miyu agreed.

Kuro cast her a brief glance, but otherwise said nothing. Miyu had always been a mystery – a fact that Illya seemed to ignore most of the time. There were too many unknown factors, and too many questions surrounding her existence, but she had never once stepped forward to confront Miyu about it.

This stalemate can’t hold, Illya, Kuro thought. From Miyu’s tone alone, Kuro could gather that she had little to no recollection of her mother, or at least had no fond memories of her – a plight that Illya would never be able to relate to. Perhaps that was why she chose to keep it to herself. Or perhaps…

“… Come to think of it, Shirou-san is quite late,” Miyu said suddenly. “Do you suppose…?”

“It is kind of late,” Kuro agreed. “But if he’s not using that ‘Command Seal’ thing, he should be fine, right? Knowing onii- I mean, knowing Shirou, he probably got caught up helping someone else after archery practice or-”

She froze.

“Kuro?” Miyu asked warily, noting the sudden change in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“… It’s him,” Kuro muttered, her fingers tightening around her chest. “I don’t know how, but it’s definitely him… He’s… Projecting… something…”

A sudden surge of emotion came and went, flashing by in her mind like a flash of lightning. It was ever so brief, but was also unmistakable – it was a distinct surge of killing intent, and one directed at someone who was not even physically present.

Why? She questioned. She had never been unsure of her own feelings, and she was far more straightforward and open than Illya was. She held no doubts about what she wanted. Yet, this killing intent was defying all of those thoughts in just one instant. Why is it that when I think of him, I want to… kill… Shirou…?
In her mind, she loved him. She adored him. And yet, ever since coming into contact with that weird man in that red cloak, an uncanny hate had begun pouring out from deep inside her. Far deeper than her mind, as though coming out of the very essence of her being. Her soul.

Almost as if in that moment, she existed solely to eliminate the man called Emiya Shirou.

“Kuro?!” Miyu called, but it was too late; with her signature red cloak billowing in her wake, Kuro had already vanished into the night air in one leap.

“Miyu-sama, do we give chase?” Sapphire asked.

“Yes,” Miyu replied, breaking into a run. “Sapphire, the transformation!”

“Understood!”

-

The Servant Caster looked away from the boy she had saved, and instead focused on the woman with the blindfold.

“Oi, you,” the clearly shaken wreck that was Shinji said. Having survived the surprise attack earlier, most of the fear was gone from his system, replaced instead by a fit of rage. “Who do you think you are, barging in like that?!”

“My, what a rude young man,” Caster said pleasantly. “You have no idea what situation you’re in, have you?”

“Ha!” Shinji scoffed. “That’s my line, you third-rate trash! You’re up against the strongest Master and his Servant; do you really think you can-”

A thin beam of energy whisked through the air, burning the spot where Shinji’s face had been moments before. Having avoided the attack, Rider set him down, before turning to engage the enemy.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Caster said. “I just got a little bored of your nonsense. Mind wrapping up so we can continue fighting?”

“Damn you…” Shinji snarled. “Don’t think you can get away with this! Rider, kill her! Wipe that stupid look off her face!”

Wordlessly, Rider complied, kicking off the ground towards Caster. Covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye, she closed in on the hooded Servant and flung out her weapon.

A brief flash of metal followed that movement, and in the next moment Shirou saw the shape of the thing that had been invisible before: a silver stake-like object that was attached to a long winding chain. He was, however, unable to make out its proper design, since it traveled like a speeding bullet.

Even with that speed, the weapon failed to connect. Before the silver stake could pierce Caster’s face, she vanished, leaving it to soar through the air pointlessly and lodge itself into the dojo’s wall. Then, before Rider could even begin to look for her foe, several beams of mana bombarded her from above.

Leaping out of the cloud of dust left behind by the attack, Rider retreated a few steps – an act that she knew would be pointless to an enemy in the sky. She was not unscathed, having received considerable damage from the attack earlier, but her concentration did not slip. Without any regard for her injuries, she kept her focus directed at Caster, who remained high in the sky and out of her reach.

And right next to her, trapped in a floating magic circle, was a very surprised Shirou.

“You should really be more careful,” Caster told him. “You could easily have died, you know.”

“T-thanks,” Shirou stammered. “Are you… a Servant?”

“Oh? You know about Servants?” Caster asked, casually firing more beams of mana down at her helpless opponent below. “I had thought you were just an unrelated victim.”

That was, naturally, a lie; she had already observed Shirou for some time before this, and he was in fact the reason for Caster showing up here in the first place. She had fully intended to steal his Saber after seeing Berserker in combat, but that went out the window as soon as she saw his entourage.

At first, she had assumed her to be a magus pretending to be Berserker’s Master. A rather harmless individual, she was, until she brought out the Noble Phantasm that was Rule Breaker.

Servants were, in most cases, Heroic Spirits across time and space with legends left in the wake of their passing. Regardless of whether they were saints or fiends in life, Servants would always have a form of ‘legend’ of their own, and with said tales came Noble Phantasms – the crystallization of their renowned myths. They were objects only the Servants themselves could possess, and each one was unique to its wielder. Noble Phantasms effectively defined the Servant, and there were no exceptions.

But the child had clearly used Rule Breaker. Not only that, she had done to Lancer what Caster had intended to do to Saber – she had transferred the Contract between Master and Servant onto herself. After seeing something like that, it was only natural for Caster to be a little wary, and be forced to change her plans a little.

For now, that meant tricking this trusting fool of a Master-

“Look out!”

A mere fraction of a second later, something swift and sharp gouged into Caster’s body.

-

“… Nice shot,” Rin said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Archer narrowed his eyes. When Rin had asked him if he would miss them at this distance, he had gone and told her ‘only if you want me to’. In hindsight, it might have been better to boast after he actually hit the target.

To be fair, he would have cleanly pierced Caster’s heart had it not been for that stupid boy with her. Considering the time before during the battle with Berserker, Emiya Shirou seemed genuinely able to sense his attacks. Now that he had been foiled a second time, Archer found it difficult to chalk up those occurrences to dumb luck.

“Hey, I managed to hit her,” Archer said defensively, watching his second arrow blast through the roof of the dojo and pierce Rider’s leg. “See? I hit her too.”

“Oh, bravo,” Rin rolled her eyes. “Now we’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“We still have the advantage of distance,” Archer shrugged. Of course, there was the option of using a Broken Phantasm and effectively nuking them all, but that would take more lives than was necessary. Sure, Emiya Shirou would die in that attack too, but so would Caster, Rider and Shinji.

Okay, maybe I can live with the last one, he thought.

“In case you didn’t know,” Rin said. “That Caster can teleport. What’re you going to do if she just appears right here and kill us?”

“Then it’ll be even easier for me,” Archer replied simply. “I can match her in range, and in close distance combat she’s no match for me. I see no reason to worry.”

“I can give you one.”

Archer moved fast. So fast, in fact, that Rin almost thought he had teleported. Standing between his Master and the mysterious assailant, Archer let go of his bow and produced his trusted pair of swords.

“I have some things I want to ask you,” Kuro said, pointing her copy of his sword at him.

“And if you want them, you’ll have to be a little more persuasive,” Archer replied, throwing her own words back at her.

Wow, that sounded really wrong, he thought to himself.
“I can manage that,” Kuro said, dashing towards him with her swords raised.

With an exasperated sigh, Archer raised one hand almost lazily. She may have had beyond-average abilities, but the dark Illya in front of him was still no Servant. She may have been fast, but he was on another level altogether.

So why was she not backing down?

The thought of it made him pause ever so briefly. Any rational human being would back off when faced with an enemy they could not defeat. If they knew the difference in level, they would just not fight, at least not head-on. But this girl was persistent, unnaturally so. It may have had something to do with the fact that she was wearing his clothes, but she was giving off the same stubborn vibe as Emiya Shirou.

Bringing down his sword with more force than he had intended, Archer smashed Kuro’s Kanshou into thousands of tiny pieces. Before he could register what he had just done, his knee had already buried itself in Kuro’s stomach, sending the girl flying backwards and tumbling on the floor.

“… Ouch,” Kuro groaned, slowly getting up. “You don’t hold back, even against an elementary schoolgirl?”

“… That was me holding back,” Archer said after a brief pause. “So if you have any degree of common sense, you’ll leave right now.”

“… Unfortunately, ‘common sense’ doesn’t run in the family,” Kuro said, evidently in great pain. “And neither does ‘running away’. So you see, I’m afraid I can’t comply with your demands.”

Archer considered her words for a few moments.

“Very well,” he said at last, pulling out his bow and creating an elegant sword out of thin air. “Then I’ll smash that stubbornness to pieces along with your life.”

“… Archer?” Rin said hesitantly.

He did not reply. Even if he could, he probably would have chosen not to anyway; he was far too confused right now to talk, to consider his options, to sort through the chaotic thoughts swimming in his head. All he could feel now was rage – raw, all-consuming rage – burning through the blood in his veins without reason or mercy. For some reason that he could not fathom, Archer felt the overwhelming compassion to crush this girl. To break her spirit and kill her in the same way he had intended for Emiya Shirou.

“So be it,” Kuro muttered, copying the bow in Archer’s hands and creating a sword of her own. Mirroring his actions and preparing to fire the sword – which had compressed itself into a thin-looking arrow – she took a deep breath.

She could tell that his weapon was called Caladbolg. It was just so clear when she looked at him creating it for some reason. She knew that he was stronger than her, but at the same time she knew that his arrow was definitely inferior. She could not understand how or why she knew, but she just… did.

Her weapon was a construct far more powerful than the likes of Caladbolg. She may be weaker than him in terms of abilities, but there was no denying the sheer difference in the ‘arrows’ they chose to fire. Maybe – just maybe – this would give her the edge over him just this once.

“Caladbolg!”

“Excalibur!”

Chapter Text

He stood upon a hill of swords, staring into the abyss. He knew that there was no salvation to be found, no reprieve for his fractured soul, but he stood against the solitude and pain. Adamant to the point of foolishness, he planted himself upon the landscape like the countless swords aroud him – a staunch guardian in the face of hopelessness and despair.

But in the end, it did not change the fact that he was alone. It did not alter the reality that he was weak. It could not deny that his entire life had never been his own.

He used the cheap imitations of prized, well-known swords. He borrowed from the weapons that had become the embodiments of heroes and their legends, and wielded them with no pride of his own. For a man who had and could never hold his own blade or carve his existence into an extolled, heroic tale, there was no other choice but to borrow those swords.

He borrowed the power he currently possessed, for he was powerless. He had been unable to protect anything – anyone – and that weakness led to deaths that would end up forever haunting his mind. He needed power – power to protect, power to defeat evil. But he was too weak. Too hopelessly weak and too unbearably average, that he had no choice but to borrow power that was not his. A power that would never become his own.

It could be said that everything the man possessed was not his. His weapons, his power… they were nothing more than something belonging to other people, which he had borrowed due to his own lack of ability. Even his ideal – a fleeting dream envisioned by countless children still ignorant to reality – had not been his. Even the only driving force keeping him alive and fighting had been nothing more than a borrowed dream.

He stood upon the hill of swords, holding nothing. Surely, those hands would never come to hold anything. Regardless of how many wars he endures, no matter how much evil he destroys, those hands would forever remain empty, yet be burdened by a hopeless dream until the end of time. A hopeless dream of being a ‘Hero of Justice’.

That face… looked so happy.

The man had nothing. His weapons, his power, and even his ideals were borrowed; he had nothing to call his own. The moment he realized that, and realized just how foolish he had been to chase that impossible dream, he wondered.

He wondered if perhaps, his life itself had been a borrowed thing as well.

-

“Ouch…”

Grumbling as she picked herself up, Kuro found her limbs unable to respond to her command. While it was a stroke of good luck that she did not lose a limb or two; she was not unscathed; even with Rho Aias protecting her, her entire body still felt like it had been run over by a truck. If luck was on her side, she might just get off easy with a few broken bones.

She had never fired something so powerful before, not even when she was trying to kill Illya. It took most of the mana she had, and the resulting explosion from clashing with Caladbolg was by far the most grand she had ever blocked. Surely, it must have at least wounded her opponent this time.

That aside, she thought, attempting to steady herself. What was that just now? A memory…? But whose…?

I should never have become a hero.

A rough, annoyingly familiar voice forced itself into her head. With just a few simple words, its presence instantly increased from a mere memory to a compelling force, threatening to take over Kuro at any moment.

What is this? She screamed in her head. Who are you? What are you?!

She knew that it could not be true. She was well aware that the Class Cards were, without exception, just meant to draw upon a Heroic Spirit’s powers. They were not true Heroes in that sense, and thus could not have a personality of their own. All that existed in them were the memories and powers of said hero, stored like data in a floppy disk. They possessed no will, no soul. So why was she unable to resist them?

She was her own existence. She had her own memories, her own body, her own feelings. There was no way for her to be swayed by simple memories, for she had her own will and-

She froze.

A… soul…? She found herself asking. As frightening as the thought was, she knew that it was not without reason; she was, after all, a unique existence that could not truly be called ‘human’. Do I… have a soul…?

“That surprised me.”

That same voice, harsh and powerful, broke her train of thought. Stepping through the cloud of debris that had been caused by their arrows, Archer – completely unharmed – stared down at his adversary with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’ll admit: I underestimated you,” he confessed. “To think you would actually actually Project that sword at all…”

“My, thank you,” Kuro said, managing to force out a smile. “If you wanna show your appreciation, how about you let me shoot you once and not fight back? You’ll get to see the power that way…”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” Archer replied, raising the all too familiar white sword Bakuya. “But as a special favor, I’ll give you enough time for some last words.”

“Such a gentleman…” Kuro muttered. As much as she wanted to fight back, she knew by now that he was no match for him; he had effortlessly survived her strongest attack, and she was currently not at her best. There was nothing more she could-

“Excalibur!”

A brilliant wave of gold seared the air between them, its force sending Kuro flying even without making contact. The large beam of light easily crushed whatever floor they had been standing on earlier, and could have obliterated Kuro herself had she been caught in it.

“It seems everyone loves that sword,” Archer mused, watching the attack dissipate and turning to look at the one who had unleashed it. “It could very well be considered the pinnacle of Noble Phantasms, but no one in this age will give it the appropriate respect, will they?”

The girl wielding said holy sword did not reply, opting instead for taking a defensive stance next to an exasperated Kuro.

“Kuro, are you alright?” Miyu, dressed in what appeared to be Saber’s armor, asked. In her arms lay a beautiful sword, one that was surely a sight to behold yet far too dull in terms of radiance. It was not something that could be called the real thing, yet was not so imperfect as to be called a cheap fake.

“Whatever happened to being discreet?” Kuro panted. “I thought Saber didn’t want you to show off that sword.”

“There was no helping it,” Miyu defended calmly. “But that aside, are you alright?”

“More or less,” Kuro said, getting to her feet. “I’d like a quick kiss, but I guess that’s not an option is it?”

“T-that is…” Despite the very real threat of death, Miyu blushed. Even while holding a legendary Noble Phantasm and donning sturdy armor, she was still a little girl at heart. “P-please focus on the battle for now…”

Kuro opened her mouth – likely in an attempt to make fun of how flustered Miyu was – but stopped. As much as she wanted to, she could not bring herself to keep up that attitude anymore. Right now, the only thing she needed was answers, and the only person who could give it was him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed, projecting her favored pair of swords. “We’ll do that after we kick his butt.”

Archer sighed. For one thing, he was glad that he did not have to kill the tanned Illya, but he had not anticipated this. Tonight was supposed to be a short one, where he stayed on the lookout for Rin while possibly killing Emiya Shirou. Fighting a miniature version of himself, along with a mini-Saber, was not part of the plan.

Why does my life have to be so complicated? He thought.

-

“H-hey! Are you okay?!”

Faced with Shirou’s earnest but seriously misplaced concern, Caster almost wanted to laugh. The boy had absolutely no capacity for distrust – a trait she might have expected from a young child or really skilled liar. While she would normally assume the latter, Caster fancied herself more than capable of telling if someone was lying.

The boy genuinely cared. Despite knowing that she was the enemy, he was still expressing concern for Caster. The child was far too naïve for a magus – or for any decent human, for that matter – which made things much easier for her.

No, I can’t let my guard down, she thought to herself. There’s no way he could be this vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. The swords, which had gouged into her body not too long ago, had already vanished. Magecraft, she assumed, and a highly annoying ability at that. “Where’s the enemy?”

“N-no idea,” Shirou replied. “I don’t see Shinji’s Servant anywhere, but that bastard’s definitely still aiming for us…”

Caster got to her feet. Rider had taken her fair share of swords in the bombardment earlier, so it was not surprising for her to retire. Had her Master been more competent as a magus however, she might have been able to continue fighting. Alas, the clump of talking seaweed had nowhere enough ability to back up his huge mouth.

“You know the identity of the attacker, child?” Caster asked. “Don’t tell me you had your Servant-”

“Of course not!” Shirou denied instantly. “That’s Tohsaka’s Servant! We have to get out of here right now before he-”

A bright flash of gold interrupted Shirou’s words, before proceeding to destroy whatever was in the general area a few kilometers away.

“Saber…?” he wondered aloud.

“Is something the matter?” Caster asked, her shaky legs giving way before she could steady herself.

“Hey! Are you alright?!” Shirou asked. In his panic, he had forgotten that Servants did not recover from being skewered just because the swords were removed. When he finally caught on to that tiny detail, his response was not any better: “W-we need to get you to a hospital!”

“You… really are an odd magus,” Caster chuckled. She had expected Shirou to drop the act and finish her off (which would have resulted in his own demise, of couse) or simply run off and leaving her there, but he had done neither. If this man was a magus, he was certainly a failure of one. In that aspect, he was actually pretty similar to her own Master. “I will be fine, child. You should probably leave now; there’s no telling what will happen from hereon out. Magi should stay out of battles involving Servants.”

“What’re you talking about?!” Shirou exclaimed. “You’re in no condition to fight! We need to run away!”

“Shirou!”

Beneath the shadows of her hood, Caster’s eyes widened. It was her.

Descending from the sky in a pink-and-white frilly dress, Illya dashed over to the confused boy with a queer red stick in her hand. Caster briefly wondered if she was somehow capable of flight because of that outfit, or if the attire was the result of some bizarre need for little girls to appeal to men. Either way, it irked the cloak-and-hood-wearing Caster way more than it should.

“I-Illya?!” Shirou exclaimed. “W-what’re you doing here?!”

“Sapphire-chan called us over!” Ruby chirped. “Kuro apparently took off and- what’s this? Assaulting a lady under the cover of night, are we?”

“Eh?!” Illya gawked at the hooded woman for a few seconds before the color drained from her face. “C-C-C-Caster?!”

“Who is this child?” Caster asked.

“S-she’s… it’s a little difficult to explain,” Shirou said. “Think of her as my little sister.”

“Li-” Illya, despite her panic, took the time to blush. “N-now’s not the time for that! G-get away from-”

“You know, Illya-san,” the wand in her hand said, not even bothering to hide its (her?) exasperation. “If you’re going to act like that every time we meet one of these guys, you’re really going to waste our screentime.”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?” Illya asked.

“If you wanted to exclaim that much, you could always just save it for when I’m recording footage for the next ‘Ufufu time – squealing girls’ episode!”

“W-what’s with that suspicious-sounding title…” Illya asked, visibly edging away from her wand in fear. “Wait, did you just say ‘next episode’?! How many-”

“Oh look, there’s an injured person over there,” Ruby deadpanned, sounding about as convincing as someone reading off a really boring script. “She might just be an enemy or a friend. We ought to check on her as well as Shirou-san’s wellbeing.”

“You’re clearly avoiding the topic, aren’t you?! Aren’t you?!”

“Okay kids, wrap it up.”

Materializing into existence with a look both amused and irritated in equal measure on his face, Lancer walked in front of his Master and glared at Caster.

“Yo,” he greeted, his tone far too cold for it to be one used to regard a friend. “So you’re still alive.”

“Indeed,” Caster replied, sounding less composed than she had intended to. “No thanks to you.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Lancer smirked, twirling Gae Bolg in his hand and assuming a stance for combat. “Now I can reclaim my honor by finishing the job.”

“W-wait a minute!” Shirou yelled, physically shielding Caster by stepping in between them. “She’s not an enemy! She saved my life!”

“That’s nice and all, kid,” Lancer said, not budging. “But she’s not as nice as she looks.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“She murdered her own Master,” Lancer explained. “I was sent to eliminate her by my previous Master, but she escaped. I don’t know what tricks she pulled, but if she’s still in this War it can’t be good. Now if you get it, step aside.”

“I could say the same about you, spearman,” Caster said, her lips curving into a malicious smile. “From the sounds of it, you have left your Master too. Are you in any position to be judging me?”

“Wait, Se- Lancer-san!” Illya said, before Lancer could retort. “Now’s not the time to be fighting! We have to help Kuro and Miyu!”

Lancer, for all his eagerness to do battle, hesitated. Saber was probably already there right now, dealing with Archer alongside the dark Illya and tiny Saber. There was no real need for him to intervene, even if he did have a score to settle with Archer. Who knew what would happen if he just let Caster roam free right now?

“B-besides,” Illya added timidly, boldly borrowing the words Archer had used against Saber before. “She’s injured; you wouldn’t want to cut down someone who can’t fight back, right?”

Lancer actually turned and stared at her when she said that, causing Illya to back away like a frightened lamb (which for some reason made Ruby oddly excited). He was not furious at the comment, but rather extremely surprised that a kid like Illya would say something like that.

“U-uh…” Illya mumbled.

“… Well, you’re not exactly wrong,” he sighed. He then shot another glare at Caster. “On the account that you helped that kid over there, I’ll back down this time. But mark my words, Caster: if you so much as lay a hand on these two, I’ll pulverise you without mercy.”

“How noble,” Caster said. “Even though you have absolutely no chance against that monster…”

“‘That monster’?” Lancer repeated. “You mean Berserker? He’s tough, sure, but he isn’t-”

Interrupting his statement was, surprisingly, Caster’s laugh. Rather than being filled with malicious intent, it was instead a chuckle filled with mirth at Lancer’s ridiculous, clueless declaration.

“… What’s so funny?” the spearman in blue asked, narrowing his eyes.

“So you’re unaware,” Caster said, a hint of mockery tugging at her lips. “Understandable, I guess; any sensible Master would keep a Servant like you who covets battle away from something like that…”

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out,” Lancer snapped. “You’re trying my patience, Caster.”

“There’s a far more fearsome Master out there than the child who has a leash on that mad dog,” Caster said. “That Master has two Servants under their control, and one of them is the culprit responsible for puncturing that boy’s arm.”

“S-Shirou?!” Illya yelled, the color draining from her face. “T-that arm!”

“You’re saying that now?!” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I-it’s fine, don’t worry,” Shirou replied nonchalantly, giving her a confident grin. “More importantly, that Servant from just now… She’s not Shinji’s Servant?”

“That obnoxious failure of a magus, a Master?” Caster asked, chuckling. “He’s merely a puppet. The real threat is the Master who managed to break the rules, control two Servants, and is currently hiding somewhere far from anyone’s suspicions.”

“And you know where this place is?” Lancer asked.

“Of course,” Caster replied. “I am a Caster, after all. But,” she added in a louder voice, cutting across Lancer’s potential comment. “I’m naturally not going to share that information for free.”

“How about your life for that information, then?” Lancer growled. “Seems like a fair trade to me.”

“In exchange for my information,” Caster continued, as though Lancer had not spoken. “I wish to borrow your power to eliminate them.”

“Hold on,” Lancer said abruptly. “You can’t possibly be…”

“Indeed I am,” Caster nodded. “I’m proposing a temporary alliance.”

-

“That bitch… she’d better not screw everything up.”

Listening silently to her ‘Master’ while recovering from her injuries, Rider resisted the urge to voice her concerns about the situation. Matou Shinji was not a man known for his sagacity, nor was he one who took kindly to being told what to do. Which was odd, considering he was currently following along with someone else’s plan.

She had initially expected Shinji to order her to kill Caster immediately when the latter had shown herself. She had expected him to be so furious he would just be insulted by the prospect of an alliance. What she had not expected, however, was for Shinji to actually agree to Caster’s offer. Granted, she agreed that for the sake of winning the War, working with Caster to take out Saber, Lancer and that queer magus who could steal Servants all at once was a smart choice, but she heavily doubted Shinji’s competence in dealing with Caster afterwards.

“Stop daydreaming, Rider!” Shinji scolded, storming off. “We’re going!”

“Where to, Master?” Rider asked.

“Tch, you really are as dumb as you look,” Shinji grumbled. “Have you not paid attention to anything I’ve said? You really are useless…”

Without another look at his Servant, the Master of the Matou family headed to the agreed upon place – the place where Emiya Shirou and pathetic entourage would surely meet his demise.

Wordlessly, Rider complied, following her abusive Master to the place known as Ryuudou Temple.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, nii-san.”

The same words, the same expression, the same hollow tone. They meant nothing, conveyed nothing, and like her, meant absolutely nothing to him.

Perhaps, if he had been born into a normal family, the child called Matou Shinji might have been different. Maybe, if either of his parents had been more capable of producing a child proficient with magecraft, the talentless boy might have been someone else.

Perhaps, if the person called Matou Sakura did not exist, he could have had the recognition he deserved.

From the very beginning, he was painfully mundane. He knew that he was incapable of performing sorcery of any sort, but he refused to acknowledge that fact; despite clearly showing no such signs, he told himself that he was special, gifted, and that he was the only rightful successor to the prestigious Matou family. Somewhere along the way, he actually ended up believing it. He actually ended up living that lie.

“I’m sorry, nii-san.”

Again with the same line. Again with the same expression. She was nothing more than an outsider – someone who had absolutely nothing to do with the Matous – and yet she was the one taking pity on him. Him, the Matou family’s elite and only qualified successor, was being looked down upon by a random girl adopted from some random place. A random girl whom he had once treated as his sister (even if he showed it in less conventional ways).

“N-nii-san, w-what are-”

“Shut up! Shut up!”

Ignoring her protests and utter bewilderment, Matou Shinji let his frustration fuel his body’s movements, tearing at Sakura’s clothes without remorse. Her panic failed to deter him even the slightest, and her fear merely urged him on to further abuse the helpless girl in his grasp. For her, there was no escape, no other option, no salvation. All she could do, and all Matou Sakura ever did, was give in and let him have his way.

He had believed it to be his triumph, that her lack of resistance was a sign of submission. He had believed, like he had done many years ago, in the lie that he deserved more. He had, once more, deceived himself with nothing more than a childish fantasy.

Look at me.

He knew that the man known as Zouken would not acknowledge him. He knew that the old man, weak and fragile as he appeared to be, was in no way going to accept his ability without solid results.

Acknowledge me.

“Just you wait and see,” he remembered swearing under his breath, the Book of False Attendant clasped tightly in one hand. “I’ll make you recognize my talent. Just you wait.”

Praise me.

What the miserable excuse of a magus had was nothing more than a desperate wish. What he sought was nothing more than what any child would have wanted from their parents. Their family. What he wanted was, simply, to be seen.

Driven by nothing more than misplaced delusions of grandeur, Matou Shinji entered the Holy Grail War.

-

“… Who are you?”

In response to his clearly disgusted tone, the cloaked woman merely chuckled.

“Even with an enemy before you, you’re not on your guard?” she mused, speaking more to herself than to Shinji. “But worry not, young man; I mean you no harm.”

“… A Servant?” Shinji took a step back, the arrogance slightly draining from his voice. “H-hmph. O-of course you can’t be my enemy; no one can beat my Rider after all. Besides, you don’t know the situation you’re in, do you? I could turn you into a puddle of blood in an instant!”

“You feel no need to conceal your trump card?” Caster asked. “Though, it’s not as if this bounded field can be considered a trump card anyway…”

Pausing briefly to relish the effect her words had on Shinji, Caster went on in a tone that was equal parts condescending and mocking:

“But, well, I didn’t come here to declare war,” she told him. “On the contrary, I’m here to offer an alliance.”

“… An alliance?” Shinji repeated under his breath. Caster briefly wondered if the child was simply slow on the uptake. “H-ha! Of course you weaklings would want to pair up with brilliant people like me! But don’t get all cocky, bitch; I don’t need weaklings like you on my side!”

Caster resisted the urge to laugh. Surely, no decent magus could be this clueless, but it was all far too realistic to be an act. Perhaps this fool was here simply for her to manipulate like the tool he was.

“Oh?” she said, the slightest hint of curiostiy escaping her lips. “Then you must already have a means to prevent your Servant from being stolen, I take it?”

“… W-what’re you talking about?” Shinji stuttered. “S-stealing my Servant? A-as if such a thing is possible…”

“My, is that so?” Caster asked, chuckling. “To think a Master without proper Command Seals would think such a thing…”

Shinji froze.

“It’s just a simple observation,” she said loftily. “No need to get so worked up. But then again, the entire Holy Grail War is nothing more than a large scale ritual, which makes the Servant system nothing more than a glorified spell. As such, transfer of Master rights isn’t all that unthinkable.

“So, naturally, stealing said rights shouldn’t be impossible either.”

Shinji did not retort, instead going completely silent as he contemplated her words. As infuriating as she was, this woman did speak some sense. As unlikely as it was (and as complexing as it was for her to know how he was a Master in the first place), there was certainly a possibility that what she said was true. And no matter what he said or did, Matou Shinji knew he was no match for another Servant without one of his own.

“It seems you understand the danger of such a scenario,” Caster said. “Then, can I assume that you would be willing to cooperate with me to take out this threat?”

“… So you’re saying that there’s someone in this War who can steal Servants?” Shinji asked.

“Indeed,” Caster replied. As much as she could not understand it, the silver-haired girl she saw that night had surely invoked Rule Breaker – Caster’s own Noble Phantasm – and was able to somehow steal Lancer from his Master. Whatever she was, she was now an official Master, and she was undoubtedly a threat in this Holy Grail War. “I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes. She will definitely become a force to be reckoned with if left alone. What will it be, young Master?”

“… Alright, I get it,” Shinji said at last, after what felt like an eternity of silence. “I’ll work with you.”

I’m sorry, nii-san.

“But if you ever dare think of betraying me,”

Surely this mere familiar, too, was looking down on him. Mocking him. Underestimating him. That was why when he emerged victorious over her and her scheming, worthless Master, they would come to understand that Matou Shinji was not some random pushover.

“I’ll show you no mercy,” he spat.

-

The shrieks of clashing metal shook the air, leaving in their wake a heavy, powerful echo. Even if they lasted barely a fraction of a second, and even though they were nothing more than remnants of blows crossed what felt like ages ago, the echoes still rang clearly in the ears of mere humans whose eyes could not keep up.

“This is…” Miyu paused, the remainder of her sentence dying in her throat. The level of combat happening before her was, if anything, impossible. No human – be they magus or transformed magical girls – was capable of movements like those. It just was not possible.

And yet, it was happening right then and there.

When she had stepped in to help Kuro, she had had every intention of defeating the enemy on her own. She had even entertained the thought of getting some answers on who the stranger cloaked in red was, but was soon shown just how foolish she had been.

To say that he was simply stronger was an understatement. After simply exchanging a few blows, it was apparent that he was on an entirely different level. If not for the timely intervention of Saber (and something about Archer that Miyu could not quite place), Miyu would have been slaughtered with ease.

“What’re you doing, spacing out like that?” Kuro asked, her fingers clasped tightly around her favored swords (which, oddly enough, looked exactly like Archer’s). “It’s not like you.”

“… You’re right,” Miyu replied, getting to her feet and raising her copy of Excalibur. “We have to help Saber-san…!”

Her grip on the handle tightened. This was not the time to be awestruck or confused; it was time to strike down the enemy. Regardless of the difference in actual combat prowess, Archer was an opponent they had to defeat.

Or at least, that was what she told herself.

As inexplicable as it was, Miyu could not convince herself to do just that. No matter how clear it was that he was the enemy, and no matter how much he had beaten them before, she just could not find herself able to see Archer as a ‘foe’.

Why…?

Even beneath the armor woven of prana and with a legendary sword in hand, Miyu could feel a distinct throbbing in her chest.

Why… just by looking at him…

They could not be further apart. He was kind, gentle, but Archer was cold and ruthless. He was always smiling, and always loved her dearly. But Archer, he was a stoic mask of resignation, and surely a killer who knew not of things like love.

And yet, she could not stop thinking that they were similar.

Just by looking… I’m reminded of onii-chan…?

-

Archer, who was engaged in a duel to the death, had no time for such idle thoughts.

The Saber Class was acknowledged, even amongst Servants, as the strongest Class (even if their pride would not let them say it). Aside from the figurative and literal wild card that was Berserker, Saber-Class Servants had a distinct advantage in combat. And if Anti-Magic, superior strength and speed were not enough, Servants of the sword had the sanity to bring out the full potential of their already polished skills. As such, fights against such Servants were never easy, and Archer was not expecting this battle to be.

Even so, Saber had exceeded all his expectations regardless.

He knew from personal experience that she was tough. Determined and unrelenting, she absolutely refused to give up in the face of any unfavorable situation. Things like a handicap because of a weak Master and fighting a foe many times her superior mattered not; she met those challenges with the air of a true warrior. Till the bitter end, she was a chivalrous King worthy of that Holy Sword. Or perhaps, that Holy Sword was worthy of her. Either way, no Heroic Spirit would have any regrets being slain by her sword, and none would feel anything but honored to defeat her in battle.

Shirou, my wish…

But maybe that was why he could not lose to her.

… is to change the fate of my beloved country.

He had no honor to uphold. He had no pride to speak of. As someone who could understand all too well the wish to undo one’s past mistakes, Archer knew just how foolish it was to be bound by the same petty ideals regardless.

The sound of breaking metal interrupted his thoughts, and the glimmer of countless shards entered his vision. The reduced weight in his hands told him that his blades were now useless, so his fingers released the handles on reflex.

Justice. Peace. Happiness. It was easy to speak of those ideals, and anyone could come up with pretty words to back them up. But in the end, ideals were ideals, and there was but a fine line between acting on them and being controlled by them.

Without a single pause, a brand new pair of blades appeared in his empty hands. Objectively speaking, Archer as a male should have had the upper hand in strength. Even if he had to factor in the differences in parameters, she still could not be breaking Kanshou and Bakuya so easily.

I’m so soft, he thought. Even at times like this, I’m holding back…

He took a step sideways. It was a small motion, and hardly one worthy of mention in a fight, but that one movement made Saber’s invisible slash miss. Naturally, it was not enough to throw her off balance, but it gave Archer the opening he needed.

I didn’t take all those beatings from you for nothing, he thought, smirking a little.

Leaning forward, Archer stepped closer to Saber, standing where he had stood a split second earlier. Then, before Saber could react, he swung down with the sword in his right hand.

Saber naturally tried to counter, but realized a moment too late that she could not make it in time; while his right hand attacked, Archer had forced Saber’s sword back with the second blade in his left. Even if she had enough power with her two-handed grip to break through his one-handed shortsword, there would not be enough time to parry his slash-

“Saber-san!” Miyu yelled.

She moved almost reflexively. In a movement similar to Berserker’s, Saber let go of her two-handed grip on her sword, leaving only her right hand to hold its invisible handle. With her left, she brought it up, and with a resounding clang managed to block Archer’s blow with her left gauntlet.

“Wha-”

Giving Archer no room to retaliate, Saber forcefully pushed aside Bakuya with her gauntlet, and slashed through Kanshou with her sword. This time, instead of hitting air or striking metal, the unmistakable feeling of flesh met her Holy Sword.

“Tch!”

Backing away from the swordswoman, Archer put some distance between them and assessed his injury. It was not a fatal wound, and something like this could be healed almost instantly by Rin.

“Not bad,” he said. “Is that your ‘instinct’?”

Saber did not reply. Truthfully, she had no idea how she had come up with that move either, but something from hearing Miyu’s words had made her body move that way – to actually wield her sword with one hand despite never doing so in her life. She had no explanation for it, even if she was glad that it had saved her just then.

“That’s my line, Archer,” Saber replied. “You seem awfully familiar with my movements, or is that just my imagination?”

“Surely you jest,” Archer chuckled. “If I was familiar with your movements, I wouldn’t have gotten myself slashed just now. I was expecting you to back away, you know.”

“Putting distance between myself and a bowman would be most foolish,” Saber replied. “Besides, a knight does not retreat, Archer.”

Instead of replying, Archer simply sighed. Dematerializing his shortswords, he instead produced his bow and a much dreaded sword that made Kuro shudder – Caladborg.

“Is that your so-called ‘pride’, Saber?” he asked, as the sword in his hand shrunk to fit the shape of an arrow. Pulling back on the string of his bow, the white-haired Servant shot her one last glare. “It truly is dazzling.”

There was no awe in his voice. There was no admiration in those words. All that escaped those lips of his, were what felt like anger and sorrow. No matter how odd it sounded, that was what Saber felt hearing that sarcastic remark.

“… Do you intend to shoot me, Archer?” she asked. “At this distance, I can dodge your arrow and slice you in two before you can prepare another.”

“Is that so?” Archer replied, not sounding the least bit concerned. “Then I guess you don’t care what happens to the two brats behind you?”

It took Saber a moment to digest those words, and when she finally did, she froze. It had not been a matter of forgetting about Miyu and Kuro, but the very thought of harming them directly had not crossed Saber’s mind.

“Stop, Archer!” she said. Even Archer had to admit she was emitting an authoritative aura just then. “You would do harm to mere children?!”

“Children or not, they’re dangerous enough to be considered enemies,” Archer replied calmly. “I cannot think of the ability to mimic Heroic Spirits to be something I can ignore, Saber. Surely you realize this.”

“Indeed, their magecraft is most strange,” Saber agreed. “However, they mean no harm and are not participants in this Holy Grail War, so they should not be targets to you! I can vouch-”

“And what good will that do?” Archer snapped. “Will words backed by your so-called ‘honor’ carry more credibility? Will your pride as a knight be suffice to earn a person’s trust? Surely you cannot be foolish enough to think that.”

“A true knight will not entertain such thoughts!” Saber retorted. “Do you not understand at least that much as a Heroic Spirit, Archer?!”

“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Archer said, pulling back his arrow as it began pulsating with prana. “I have no pride as a hero, you see.”

With that, he released his arrow. Saber would definitely risk everything to save those two girls, so there was no need for him to see if it hit. That arrow, without a doubt, would eliminate Saber from the Holy Grail War.

-or so Archer thought, until he heard those words. Those absolutely unmistakable words.

“I am the bone of my sword.”

Chapter Text

I am the bone of my sword.

A sentence in a foreign language that she did not understand. Even if she grasped the translation of the individual words in her head, she could not understand the meaning behind them. Even so, Kuro had spoken those words without hesitation.

Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.

This time, the words did not make it to her mouth. Instead, she poured whatever prana she had into creating her shield of light, hoping to at least weaken Archer’s attack.

White-hot pain flooded her head, and a roaring flame was lit beneath her skin. It consumed her, swallowing her tiny frame and threatening to tear it apart. Even with the instrument of her demise right in her face, Kuro could feel her concentration slipping, bit by bit, losing to the unknown pain that had invaded her being.

This is not my technique.

She understood that much. From the very beginning, none of her abilities were hers at all. They belonged to the Heroic Spirit Archer – the man she was currently facing. But who was he?

This is not my magecraft.

The words that were not meant for her did nothing for her. The techniques that were not hers could not be fully utilized by her. It was only natural. It was only natural, and yet…

Why do I… feel like I can use them?

“Pyramid barrier!”

Following the shattering of her Rho Aias, Kuro was violently flung to the side and into something hard and cold. Before she could even try to figure out what was going on, the blinding flash of light from Caladborg had already disappeared beyond the edge of her vision.

“Kuro! Miyu!” Saber was yelling frantically. Oddly enough, it sounded as though the hard and cold object behind Kuro was somehow emitting Saber’s voice. “Are you alright?!”

“Y-yes, Saber-san,” Miyu’s voice croaked from her right. “K-Kuro?”

“I… I’m fine,” Kuro managed, lifting her head from Saber’s chestplate. “What happened-”

A sudden explosion of sound drowned out the rest of her words. Unable to catch on to the series of events before her eyes, Kuro simply watched as countless beams of light bombarded Archer from above.

“Schneiden!”

Following the yell of a very familiar little sister, a bright pink crescent slammed onto the concrete, further destroying the already battered battlefield. There were people yelling amidst the chaos too, but Kuro could not quite pinpoint their location or identify who they were.

“Trace… on.”

Sparks flew briefly in her outstretched hand, but nothing else happened. Clenching her fist and unable to find the strength to slam it down in frustration, Kuro let it fall limply to her side.

Why isn’t it working? She screamed inside her head. Why can’t I use it?!

“It is not good to over-exert yourself,” Saber advised, setting her and Miyu down. “Please wait here; I will return shortly-”

“There’s no need for that.”

Twirling a beautiful crimson spear in one hand, the Heroic Spirit known as Setanta-san walked over casually, as though there was not an enemy to fight behind him. It was only after hearing his words that Kuro realized the explosions were getting more distant, as though they were now hitting a target moving further and further away.

“Did you… get him?” Miyu asked, cancelling her transformation. Almost instantly, Sapphire (who had been the replica of the Holy Sword mere moments ago) started to fuss over her wellbeing like an overprotective mother hen. “I’m alright, Sapphire. No need to worry.”

“Hmph, I wish,” Lancer sighed. “We let that bastard go. Saber’s Master has a soft spot for his enemies it seems, so we’re not gonna pulverize them just yet. Besides, the battle’ll be no fun if it’s three-on-one.”

“It’s thoughts like that that will become fatal in this War, you know,” Caster added, slowly and gracefully descending from the sky.

“You’re acting awfully friendly,” Lancer snapped.

“And you’re acting awfully hostile,” Caster replied casually. “Regardless of the circumstances, we are technically allies now, so could you please direct your killing intent elsewhere?”

“Kuro! Miyu! Saber-san!”

Before Lancer could reply, Illya had already flown towards them dressed in the frilly costume she swore to them was her standard battle attire (which, Lancer had to admit, was at least better than that ‘Lancer Install’ or the even more atrocious ‘Beast Mode’).

“Are you alright?!” she asked, frantically looking from one person to another. “Are you hurt?! How badly are you hurt?!”

“We’re fine, Illya,” Miyu assured her calmly.

“Rather, stop yelling in my ear-” Kuro began.

“Kuro, what’s with those wounds?!” Illya gasped, too flustered to hear their replies. “Does it hurt bad?!”

“Illya-sama-” Sapphire began.

“We need to get those wounds treated right now! Quick, the hospital!”

“Illya-”

“No, a hospital won’t work; a spell? B-but we don’t have Rin-sa-”

“Ruby chop!”

“Ugh!” Illya and Kuro yelped at the same time.

In one swift motion, the wand in Illya’s hand bent upwards and slammed down one of its wings onto her head. Leaving the girl lying on the floor and with a smoking forehead, the Wand of Love and Justice began her lecture.

“Really,” she sighed. “Even though our screentime has been short lately, it doesn’t mean you need to get all jittery like that, Illya-san! Listen to what others have to say!”

“Y-you could have told me that without hitting me…” Illya whimpered, massaging the point of impact as her transformation rescinded.

“What are you talking about?!” Ruby exclaimed. “Are you telling me to keep all this frustration contained instead of finding an outlet?!”

“Don’t use me as an outlet!”

“… Are they… always like this?” Caster asked.

“You better believe it,” Lancer rolled his eyes. “This is already pretty tame.”

“Lancer,” Saber called out, ignoring Illya’ and Ruby’s bickering and instead looking at Caster. “She is…”

“I am Caster,” Caster replied before Lancer could. Ignoring his disgruntled expression, she went on: “The circumstances are a little complicated, but I am for the time being your ally. I will explain, of course,” she added as Saber opened her mouth to speak. “But for now, let’s move to another location. There’s also the matter regarding your Master’s injuries, too.”

“Shirou is injured?!” Saber instantly overlooked this new ‘ally’ at that. “Where is he?!”

“Probably trying to find a way up here,” Lancer replied, peering over the edge. “We could wait for him, or we could snatch him and discuss this elsewhere.”

“… No we should change locations,” Saber said. “It would be too risky to continue this discussion here.”

-

“… that was what I said,” Saber grumbled. “But what is the meaning of this, Shirou?!”

“Eh?” Shirou, who had just been attended to, replied lamely. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about your bringing everyone here!” Saber exclaimed, referring to the entirety of the Emiya Residence, which currently had its living room occupied by an additional Servant.

“C-calm down, Saber,” Shirou said. “For the time being, we’re allies, so it’s alright to trust them, isn’t it?”

“It is precisely because this alliance is temporary that we must exercise caution!” Saber retorted.

“Calm down, Saber,” Lancer said. “It’s not like I’m that pleased with this arrangement either, but you have to admit – it’s probably the best choice for some secrecy. Besides, with the two of us guarding this place, d’ya think it matters even if someone does attack it?”

“Lancer…” Saber considered his words for a moment. Indeed, what was done was done, and there was nothing more she could do at this point. “I understand. I will let this matter rest for now. Let us hear what Caster has to say.”

All at once, everybody’s attention shifted to Caster, who had removed her hood as a sign of goodwill (or so she had told them). Giving Saber a faint nod and trying her hardest to act worried, she complied:

“My Master is a magus from a foreign land,” she said. “He came to this land in order to compete in the Holy Grail War, but was captured by the enemy before he could actually participate. The reason I came to look for all of you is because I need your help to rescue him.”

“And why would we do that?” Lancer asked. “Isn’t it your fault for being unable to protect your Master in the first place?”

“… Yes, what you said is indeed true,” Caster replied, sounding genuinely hurt. “It is my responsibility, but… ashamed as I am, I cannot defeat the enemy on my own. For you see… The enemy Master possesses more than one Servant.”

The atmosphere instantly changed at that sentence. Even Lancer, who had seemed to be interested in the discussion at hand, sat a little straighter upon hearing that.

“That’s impossible,” Saber protested. “One Master is only permitted to have one Servant. Those are the rules!”

“Yes,” Caster agreed. “So it should be safe to assume that this Master has broken those rules. Not only that, that Master has somehow managed to convince Rider’s Master to side with them, so now there are effectively three Servants on their side.”

“Hold up,” Lancer said. “There are already three of us here, and we’ve met Berserker, Archer and Rider. That means only Assassin has yet to show himself. Even if we assume one of the three Servants is Assassin, then…”

“Yes,” Caster nodded, genuinely pleased that Lancer was quick on the uptake. “The Master is undoubtedly someone you have encountered before. Unfortunately, I have not managed to break past Assassin and Rider, so I do not know who it is.”

“So it’s either Tohsaka or…” Shirou trailed off, casting a glance towards Illya. The girl seemed to have reached the same conclusion, judging by the distraught look on her face.

“That person is not Illya,” Miyu stated, a little less confident than she would have liked.

No one agreed with her, and no one offered her a retort. Instead, everyone simply held their tongues, allowing a painfully tense stretch of silence to descend upon the conversation. Fortunately for them, that silence was broken (for the second time and counting) by Lancer.

“All this speculating’s not gonna help one bit,” he growled. “If we’re actually gonna storm their base – and even if we don’t – we’ll have to fight all of them sooner or later. You can get your answers then. Oi, brat,” he added, looking at Illya. “Are you actually a fake of that Berserker’s Master?”

“O-of course not!” Illya replied.

“Then you’ve got nothing to fear,” Lancer assured her. “Don’t think anything unnecessary now, got it?”

“Y-yes…” Illya replied timidly.

She knew she was real. She knew that she was not a fake, or a replica of any sort. But at the same time, it did not mean that the other side was simply a fake because Illya herself was not. That girl – that merciless, distant girl – was surely Illyasviel as well.

“Anyway,” Lancer went on, looking at Caster this time. “I take it you at least know where they’re located, right? Otherwise this is just gonna be a wild goose chase.”

“Of course,” Caster said. “Their base of operations is Ryuudou Temple, and that is also where my Master is currently being held hostage.”

“That bugs me,” Lancer cut across her. “You say ‘held hostage’. Why would they bother with hostages at all? It’ll be faster to just kill the Master if they want to win the War.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Caster replied. “But as I said, this Master has managed to break the rules and has command of two Servants. I believe that the reason my Master is still alive is because they are trying to somehow steal his Command Seals and by extension, his rights as a Master as well as his Servant – me.”

At this point, she paused, possibly expecting someone to once more say that something so absurd was impossible. However, everyone present said nothing, having had already seen such a phenomenon with their own eyes (except Kuro, Miyu and Sapphire, but the first two were beyond doubting such things and Sapphire was able to ‘witness’ it via a direct connection to her sister).

“Oh my, that’s quite a lackluster response,” Caster said, pretending to be surprised. “You don’t seem all that worried about such a possibility. Or do you perhaps not believe my words?”

“It’s not that,” Saber replied. “It’s just that… we were thinking of how to deal with this adversary…”

“Before that,” Shirou cut in. “Are you sure about their base being Ryuudou Temple? A-aren’t there people unrelated to the Holy Grail War living there as well?”

“There are,” Caster replied grimly. “But I doubt the Master cares about them. They should not be a problem even if we attack them.”

Or rather, as long as they agree to it, I wouldn’t mind clearing out the whole temple.

“If you know so much,” Lancer said. “Surely you came up with a plan, right?”

“It’s not something elaborate enough to be called a ‘plan’, but I do have something in mind,” Caster conceded. “It’s simply a matter of dividing our forces and taking on the Servants one at a time.”

Lancer looked like he had something to add, but kept it to himself.

“First off, Assassin,” Caster went on. “He’s the one guarding the front gate, which is the only safe way to break through to Ryuudou Temple. He may not be in a Class suited for combat, but his combat prowess far exceeds that of what one expects from an Assassin. The only person among us who would have a chance against him is Saber, who is also proficient with the use of a sword.”

“Hold up,” Lancer interjected. “I can’t just let that remark slide.”

“Your speed would be much more suited for the battle against Rider,” Caster said quickly. “From what I’ve observed so far, a weapon that can be used in close-range combat and as a projectile would prove most useful against her. That is, unless you’re a Heroic Spirit from an age where you don’t throw spears at all.”

“Where does that leave you, then?” Lancer asked, narrowing his eyes. “From the sounds of it, you’d be free to stab us in the back or do whatever the heck you want.”

“Such wariness,” Caster sighed. “I did say there were three Servants on their side, did I not? I will handle that last one alone.”

“Oh?” Lancer raised an eyebrow. “And you really think things will go so smoothly?”

“As the gatekeeper, Assassin will definitely be at the gate,” Caster explained. “When we break through, Rider – being the Servant of another Master – will be sent out to engage the enemy. So naturally, the final Servant will be staying behind to guard their Master and the hostage. It’s only logical.”

“… I cannot agree to this,” Saber said after some time. “I cannot leave Shirou and the others alone and vulnerable to enemy attacks, especially after seeing what happened today.”

“I agree with Saber,” Lancer added. “This all sounds way too fishy. We can’t just trust her words like that.”

“I also object,” Miyu spoke up.

Shirou and Illya, however, kept silent.

“… Shirou?” Saber asked uncertainly.

“Uh… well…” Shirou mumbled. “I think what you and Lancer said are correct, Saber, but if she’s really telling the truth, we have to go save her Master.”

“I-I feel the same way,” Illya added. “We can’t just leave someone in need there…”

“There’s no guarantee that what she said is true, brat,” Lancer reminded her.

“But there’s no guarantee she’s lying either, right?” Illya asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

“… You do realize you’re trusting the words of an enemy, right?” Lancer asked.

“I…” Illya looked down, fumbling with her words a little before speaking up again. “I don’t know anything about the Holy Grail War, or of being a Master, but I know that Saber and Seta- I-I mean, Lancer-san as well as the other Servants are all heroes from myths and legends, right? I don’t think anyone like that could be a bad person. Besides,” she added, looking at Saber before looking back at Lancer. “You’ve shown me how loyal to your Masters you are and how much you care for us, so I want to help Caster-san save her Master! That is, um…”

Muttering a series of inaudible things under her breath, Illya simply shrunk back to her spot by the table. For all the confidence she displayed earlier, she seemed completely embarrassed by her own actions and words.

“Illya-san’s the kind to get carried away easily, huh?” Ruby chirped into her ear.

“Ugh…” Illya whined.

“Well, it’s like she said,” Shirou chipped in, putting a hand on Illya’s head. For some reason, his body seemed compelled to perform that strange action, and while he could not understand why, he did not mind it that much. “If her Master’s in trouble, we should definitely help her save them. Besides, we should be able to protect ourselves if anything goes wrong. Even if the worst case scenario occurs, we still have these, right?”

He held up the Command Seals etched onto the back of his hand.

“… Shirou,” Saber said seriously. “I will ask this just in case, but are you intending to join in the battle as well?”

“Of course,” Shirou replied, as though it was something obvious. “They’ve got two Masters on their side, right? I don’t know anything about Shinji, but the other Master must be pretty strong right? We-”

“Shirou!” Illya and Saber yelled at the same time. Being the more chivalrous of the two, Saber let the young girl speak first.

“Of course you can’t do that!” Illya exclaimed. “You have to find somewhere safe and hide until the battle’s over! Me and Miyu and Kuro will be the ones battling!”

“That’s rig-” Saber paused, her head stuck in mid-nod. “Wait a moment, Illya! That is not acceptable either!”

“Eh?” Illya shot Saber a bewildered look. “Why not?”

“This battle is far too dangerous for you to participate in!” Saber replied. “I cannot allow such a thing!”

“Well, isn’t that fine?” Lancer interjected. “Go wild if you wanna.”

“Lancer!” Saber now turned to what appeared to be yet another adversary – the blue spearman whom she had come to consider a comrade. “Are you saying you condone this madness?!”

“Calm down, Saber,” Lancer said. “While I agree that this is a bad idea in general, if we’re going to actually do it they should be in the fray. You and I both know what my Mas- that is, er… what that brat’s capable of. In a fight against other magi, they won’t lose.”

“That may be true, but…!”

“Besides,” Lancer added. “If we’re busy fighting the other Servants according to what Caster said, it’d be better if we’re nearby rather than leaving them somewhere ripe for the picking. Don’t tell me you forgot about the attack by Archer earlier.”

Saber fell silent. Indeed, she acknowledged the points he made, and if her Master and Illya were truly obstinate about helping Caster, this was the lesser of two evils. With the wild card that was Illya’s group, they had better chances overall if they all moved together. Above all, if the enemy Master was able to steal Command Seals, Illya’s own ability would be able to counter it.

“… I understand,” she said at last, turning back to face her Master. “However, I wish to verify Shirou’s decision. Do you truly intend to go, Master?”

“Yeah,” Shirou replied readily. “Definitely.”

“Understood,” Saber nodded. “Then, until the rescue of your Master, I will lend you my power, Caster.”

Caster, whose expression was one of great relief, bowed her head in gratitude.

“You have my thanks,” she said.

You have my thanks indeed.

-

“Archer, explain.”

Faced with the sudden command by his Master, Archer kept silent. Even the inclination caused by Rin’s first Command Seal did nothing, since he was truly at a loss as to what she meant.

“Explain what, Rin?” he asked.

“Your actions tonight,” Rin said, her tone making it quite clear she was in no mood for jokes. “I thought I told you I didn’t want you killing anyone other than Servants.”

“So you did,” Archer agreed.

“So what was with that ‘smash that stubbornness to pieces along with your life’ part?” Rin questioned.

“… I got carried away in the heat of the moment,” Archer replied. “I merely wished to intimidate the girl. Or did you perhaps think I would kill a gradeschooler in cold blood?”

“That’s not the only instance,” Rin said sternly. “When you brought out your bow against Saber, did you really think she would be able to save those two in time before firing?”

“Naturally,” Archer replied. “After crossing swords with her a few times, I was able to ascertain for myself the extent of her abilities. I can say with much confidence that she would’ve saved both of the kids with time to spare.”

“And what was your reason for that?”

“You saw our exchange up close,” Archer said. “A battle of that magnitude would surely have caused damage to the surrounding area. Had I not forced Saber to withdraw for the sake of her allies, they as well as you would have been dragged into it, Master.”

“… Well, I guess you’re right,” Rin muttered. “Somehow I didn’t get that kind of murderous vibe from you anyway… Maybe I’m overthinking things…”

Sharp as ever, Rin, Archer thought, fighting back the urge to smile.

“Ah, whatever,” Rin said, giving up. “We have bigger fish to fry: that tanned Einzbern mini-Archer girl who challenged you.”

“… I would appreciate it if you don’t call her that,” Archer sighed. “Her friends called her ‘Kuro’, as I recall.”

“What is she, a pet dog…” Rin muttered. “Anyway, it seems she’s capable of doing more than just mimic your gear. It’s safe to say that she can copy your techniques too.”

“No, that’s not entirely true,” Archer denied. “While similar, her techniques are far inferior compared to mine. I can’t see her being able to oppose me in any way.”

I am the bone of my sword.

He recalled the words she had said back then. Whether she had simply been mimicking him, or perhaps she really knew the words, he could not be sure. But if there was one thing Archer managed to gather from that fight, it was that she was unable to use that.

For all he knew, she might have tried to invoke it. In all honesty, if she had been successful, she might actually have stood a chance. Not much of one, but certainly a far cry from her previous attempts. If it had actually succeeded.

He did not know the reason, but that tanned Illya had been unable to use that specific technique. For all her copying of his abilities, she had been unable to use the sole magecraft that was permitted to Emiya Shirou. Normally, that would have been the end of that thought, except that Archer himself knew that it was not so simple.

During the fight, he had felt it. Even if it was slight, Kuro had been improving with every blow exchanged, be it in her movements or the quality of her weapons. It was as if the very act of battling Archer had allowed her to glean his abilities, possibly even his memories. It was the only hypothesis that he could come up with.

“What’s wrong, Archer?” Rin asked, noting the look on Archer’s face.

“… It’s nothing,” Archer replied. “I was just wondering what Caster intends to do to Saber’s Master by saving him, that’s all.”

“That was on my mind, too,” Rin said. “It could be problematic for us if they decide to join forces, even if we’re not their main target…”

“Berserker, huh?” Archer offered.

“I can only assume defeating him is their real objective,” Rin agreed. “That said, there’s no guarantee their alliance will simply dissolve after beating him. We might just get targeted as well after that.”

“Well, if we knew exactly when and where they’re fighting, we could jump in and finish them off in one go,” Archer shrugged. “That was your initial idea before Caster entered the picture, wasn’t it?”

“… That’s it,” Rin suddenly said. “We just need to be able to control that situation. It’s a little risky, sure, but it just might…”

“Rin, what on Earth are you talking about?” Archer asked.

“Let’s go, Archer,” Rin said without answering him. “We’re going to pay a visit to an obnoxious little kid.”

… Oh, Archer thought, finally catching on. Oh boy.

-

Amidst the heated debate at the Emiya Residence, there was one person (discount Sapphire) who did not speak up. Normally, said person would have at least added a comment in here and there, but this time the mini-Archer Chloe von Einzbern was utterly silent.

“… Kuro-san?” Ruby called out.

If the battle with Archer had not been enough, Lancer’s question to Illya certainly did the trick. To begin with, Kuro had never seen the Archer Class Card’s power as her own, and understood that they would never truly be hers. But the term ‘fake’ had never hit her that hard before.

“Kuro-san~”

She had never really thought about it, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she tried not to think about it. She knew that she was not truly Illyasviel von Einzbern, and no matter what she did or said that fact would not change. She was nothing more than a phenomenon, one that was supposed to have disappeared that night in Luvia’s mansion.

“Ku~ro~sa~n~!”

A fake. Even if the word had not been directed at her, Kuro knew that the term fit her. She was not needed, nor wanted, in this world. After all, she was simply something created by accident, without a soul or even an identity to call her own-

“Ruby~~~ Chop!”

“Ouch!”

“Ow!”

The unmistakable pain that came from Ruby’s trademark move burst across Kuro’s forehead, just as the flying Mystic Code slammed her wings mercilessly onto Illya’s head. For the second time that night, the annoying reminder that was the pain-sharing spell had transmitted Illya’s pain directly to Kuro.

“W-what was that for…?” Kuro muttered feebly while massaging the recent injury.

“It’s because Kuro-san was actively ignoring me!” Ruby justified. “So I had to get your attention somehow!”

“Then why did you have to hit me…?” Illya whimpered.

“Well, you see, Kuro-san’s reflexes are pretty good, so it was likely that she could dodge it,” Ruby replied nonchalantly. “Illya-san, on the other hand, being the dojikko-comic-relief-slash-healing-cute-mascot kind of side character, does not have those reflexes…”

“What’s with the overly offensive verbal abuse?!” Illya exclaimed. Lancer massaged his temples at the outburst and proceeded to sigh very heavily.

“No no no, I was actually praising your qualities Illya-san!” Ruby chirped.

“How?!”

“Well… I said you were cute…”

“That’s all isn’t it?!”

“… Hey,” Kuro suddenly spoke up. “Where did Caster go?”

Sure enough, the Class Card (or ‘Servant’, as they called them now) Caster was no longer in the room with them. Funnily enough, no one else seemed concerned or was even surprised about it.

“She left some time ago,” Miyu explained. “We were going to discuss our next move when Ruby noticed that you were spacing out, so she called out to you.”

“That’s right, Illya-san!” Ruby said. “Now’s not the time to be messing around! We have important matters to discuss!”

“I’m- I… Fine,” Illya relented. “But first, I have something I need to make clear.

“Miyu. Kuro.”

The room instantly went dead quiet. Just by hearing their names, Kuro and Miyu instantly froze, and even the two Servants in the room could not help but direct their attention towards Illya. That tone of voice was definitely not something they had expected to come from a ten-year-old, much less from one who had been so docile up till this point. Even Ruby completely and utterly shut up, and Shirou – the one most oblivious to danger – edged away from his ‘little sister’.

“The two of you went off on your own, right…?” Illya asked, her Aura far more fearsome than Berserker’s. To Kuro and Miyu, it was like incurring Irisviel’s wrath on a really, really bad day. Ruby still had the video recording (which was effectively a horror movie to them).

“I-Illya… c-calm down…” Miyu said timidly.

“Without telling anyone?” Illya went on, completely ignoring Miyu as she approached slowly. “You just engaged the enemy without so much as a word…?”

“U-um…” Kuro protested, but nothing came to mind. “E-er… that is, um…”

Then, without warning, Illya dived onto them, wrapping her arms around each of them and pulling them close. If not for her trembling arms, she might have knocked them over with the impact.

“… Don’t ever do that again.”

The voice that came out this time was extremely weak and soft, which rendered everyone speechless for entirely different reasons. Saber and Shirou looked genuinely surprised, while Lancer’s expression was a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. Ruby was recording the whole thing.

“I-Illya…?” Miyu asked, unable to keep up with the sudden turn of events.

“… I was scared,” Illya said. “When I first came here, I didn’t have Ruby with me and almost died. I didn’t know what to do, and even when I thought I finally found onii-chan, he turned out to be someone else… I was alone and… I was so terrified…”

Neither Miyu nor Kuro said anything in response to that. Even without moving to look at her, they knew that she was surely on the verge of tears. Just being in her shaky embrace told them volumes about how she was feeling just then, and it was not pleasant.

“When you just left like that, I was afraid,” Illya went on, almost as if she was talking to herself. “I was scared. I was so worried that you would get hurt, and… and that you’d leave me alone…”

Lancer, who no longer looked amused anymore, grabbed Ruby and flung her violently out the window. While he was not one for watching little girls cry, he at least offered Illya some peace of mind without that annoying recording device hovering around.

He exchanged glances with Saber. Unlike Lancer, who was still rather surprised, Saber no longer seemed to find Illya’s reaction out of the ordinary; unlike Lancer who had only met her recently, Saber had been acquainted with Illya since ten years ago, during the previous Holy Grail War. Even if they had hardly interacted back then, Saber had seen enough of Illya to know that she was just a child. A child who, after both of her parents left her, was left all alone without anyone to comfort her. Regardless of her actual age, it was perfectly normal for her to act the way she did – honest, and afraid.

“Why?” Kuro asked before she could stop herself. “I understand Miyu, but why do you care about me?”

I’m not even human.

“I even tried to kill you once.”

I’m just a fake. A copy of you.

“Isn’t that obvious?!” Illya said furiously, pulling away and glaring at Kuro with a fierce expression on her face. At least, it would have been fierce, if not for the tears streaming down her face. “You’re important to me as well! Why wouldn’t I care?!”

If she had thought about it, Kuro would have known that Illya would say something like that; she was the one who had been raised as a normal girl after all. But in that moment, with her thoughts a jumbled mess, Kuro could not help but be stunned.

“… Ah, geez,” she said at last, putting a hand on Illya’s which was still on Kuro’s shoulder. “I got it already. Stop crying.”

True enough, she was a fake. There was no denying that, and she had no intention to, but right now Chloe von Einzbern did not care. Right now, she of all people was needed by someone. Someone who accepted her for who she was.

“You’re supposed to be the big sister here, aren’t you?” she asked with a smile. “You have to act like it, dummy.”

Thanks, Illya.

“B-but…” Illya sniffled.

“Alright already,” Kuro said gently. “I won’t do it again. Promise.”

“Mm,” Miyu added, nodding to show her agreement. “Sorry, Illya…”

“W-well, as long as you understand…” Illya muttered, hastily wiping her tears in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “A-anyway-”

“Shirou~” a woman’s voice called out from somewhere outside the room. Saber and Lancer stood up and prepared to engage the possible enemy, but Shirou started panicking a little.

“Shirou?” Saber asked, noting her Master’s reaction. “What’s wrong? Do you know who it is?”

“Y-yeah, Shirou nodded. “This is bad… You guys need to hide.”

“That voice…” Miyu said. “Is it… Fujimura-sensei?”

“You know her?” Shirou asked. “Wait, that’s not important; she doesn’t know about-”

But before he got any further with that, the sliding door to the room opened and Fujimura Taiga walked in.

Sporting light brown hair and matching eyes, the woman who seemed to have not aged since she was twenty looked like a cheerful little girl as she raised a hand in greeting.

“Ya-ho, Shirou!” she greeted energetically. “I know it’s kinda late but-” she paused, having seen the sight of Shirou in a room with a foreign blond in a blue dress and three underage girls (one of whom had tears in her eyes). “M-my Shirou has become a criminal!”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Shirou groaned. While he was thankful that Lancer had gone into spiritual form, he was also quite peeved that the spearman had left him to fend for himself. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Before that, explain this!” Taiga demanded. “What’s the meaning of this, Shirou?!”

“Doesn’t look like she recognizes us,” Kuro whispered. “For a moment there I thought onii-chan was going out with her.”

“Stop calling him that!” Illya whispered back. “But you’re right; she’s a complete stranger to us… What do we do? We can’t just say we’re from a parallel world…”

“Ufufufu…” Ruby chuckled, poking her head out from inside Illya’s hair. When she had hidden herself in there was anyone’s guess. “Leave it to me, Ilya-san. Just follow my instructions and say what I tell you to say…”

Illya gulped. She had no idea what Ruby had in mind, but at the moment she had a bad feeling about the ominous way she was laughing. Not that Ruby’s usual ideas were any good either.

“W-what are you thinking…?” Illya muttered.

“Nothing much~” Ruby replied. “Just breaking out the Magical Girl’s greatest weapon~”

“Greatest wea-” Illya began, before something dawned on her.

Oh, she thought. Oh, this is bad.

Chapter Text

Matou Shinji walked around aimlessly, each step heavy with frustration. He wanted to vent said frustration on something – probably Sakura – but there was nothing in sight (which might have been a good thing, considering the disadvantageous situation he was in).

Caster had returned to Ryuudou Temple some time ago, not with their enemies as she had promised, but alone. According to her, she had been successful in deceiving Emiya’s party, but they would not be coming right away.

“Give it some time,” she had said. “Nothing good will come out of rushing things.”

Her composure was only to be expected. Everything was going exactly the way she wanted it to, so of course she could take it easy. She had everything in her grasp – a fact that Shinji had been a little too late in noticing.

Being in Ryuudou Temple, which was Caster’s base, meant that the other side had the upper hand in a fight. Being here also meant that he could not escape, even if he wanted to because of that infuriating gatekeeper. And to make things worse, now that he had shown himself to Emiya, he could no longer show up at school until he took him and Tohsaka out. Had Caster been more competent, he could have destroyed Emiya here and continued to bluff Tohsaka before ultimately finishing her off as well. But now, here he was, waiting for Emiya to rat on him to Tohsaka and nowhere near his trump card (which he had set up in the school itself).

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. He hated to admit it, but he had been too careless in agreeing to Caster’s offer.

“Why the long face?”

Shinji almost fell over in shock upon hearing that voice. Maintaining a semblance of composure, albeit barely, he glared at the Servant that had appeared out of nowhere.

“It’s a splendid night,” Assassin said lightheartedly, undaunted by Shinji’s lack of response and blatant hostility. “It may not be a full moon tonight, but the sky is still beautiful.”

“What do you want?” Shinji snarled.

“Do not be so hostile,” Assassin said. “I saw you looking trouble so I merely came to chat with you a little, that’s all.”

“All while using Presence Concealment?” Shinji snapped. “Don’t underestimate me, you bastard; I won’t get caught off-guard so easily!”

“And here I was thinking we could have a nice talk as fellow Japanese men,” Assassin sighed. “But you made one mistake, kid: this is not Presence Concealment. Ironic as it may be, I do not possess such a skill. This is simply a result of my training as a swordsman. I guess you can call it a Personal Skill of sorts.”

“Like I’d believe anything you say,” Shinji spat. “Don’t think that just because I’m here, I’ll lose to the likes of you! If I wanted to, I could have Rider wipe the floor with you at any time!”

“… Are you afraid, kid?”

Instead of offering a retort, Shinji simply froze for a moment. That moment, short as it was, gave Assassin the answer he needed.

“Well, I cannot blame you,” he said. “You are far too young to be exposing yourself to such danger after all.”

“W-what’re you talking about?” Shinji stammered, sounding less aggressive than he should have. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said I could-”

“Of course I did,” Assassin said. “But the problem lies with if you yourself heard those words. Those who are truly strong need not boast about their strength, and doing so is nothing more than a sign of cowardice. You seem to have yet to realize just how frightened you are. Or perhaps you are actively trying to avoid acknowledging it?”

“Shut up!” Shinji snapped. “Like I’d stand being mocked by a lowly Servant! Rider!”

Answering his call, Rider materialized out of thin air, ready to tear into Assassin at any moment. Assassin, however, did not move.

“If memory serves, you are working alongside that witch to defeat another foe,” he said calmly. “Are you sure it is wise to attack me like this?”

“Shut the hell up!” Shinji commanded. At that volume, he would be drawing Caster’s attention any minute now. “You’re the one who-”

“You can run if you want to.”

That one line shut Shinji up. Unsure of how to react, he simply stood there and stared, leaving Assassin free to continue as he pleased.

“I won’t stop you,” he said. “If you so desire, you can escape through the temple gates. I’ll hold off Caster for you if she notices too soon.”

“D-don’t mess with me!” Shinji stammered. “Why on Earth would I believe something like that?! You’re Caster’s lackey! There’s nothing to gain from letting me go!”

“You sure know how to hit where it hurts,” Assassin chuckled. “Though I guess ‘lackey’ isn’t entirely wrong… It is as you say; I have nothing to gain from such an act. But if you look at it another way, I also have nothing to lose. It doesn’t matter to me if Caster loses an ally; it does not change what I have to and will do – to guard this temple from intruders.”

Faced with Shinji’s queer expression of rage intertwined with confusion and what appeared to be hope, Assassin smiled.

“This battle is not worth your life,” he went on. “If you are the man you say you are, then all the more reason to not expose yourself to such pointless slaughter. You are, regardless of your lineage or upbringing, a mere child. Knowing magecraft will not change that. Besides, a part of you wishes to cease in indulging in these conflicts, does it not?”

“You- who do you-”

“Where was that rage when I offered you the chance to run?” Assassin smirked. It did not take a lot of observation to deduce that Matou Shinji – for all his talk and attitude – did indeed entertain that thought. The thought of fleeing like the coward he was. “I jest. If you wish to leave, then-”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Shinji snapped. “I don’t need your pity! You… Tohsaka… Caster… All of you acting so high and mighty… Treating me like a fool… Rider! Teach him a lesson!”

Rider hesitated, but knew better than to question her Master when he was this angry. Just as she readied herself for battle, a voice from behind them made her stop in her tracks.

“What’s going on here, Matou?”

The voice was stern, as it always was, but carried no reprimanding tone. The speaker was not angry or confused, even though it was only natural to be in that situation; on the contrary, he was no different from how he always was.

“K-Kuzuki-sensei…” Shinji called out on reflex.

“I asked what is going on,” Kuzuki Souichirou repeated, his expressionless face not twitching an inch.
For a few seconds, Shinji could not reply. At school, he had always seen Kuzuki as nothing more than a boring teacher, one who looked like a dead fish and pretty much acted like one as well. However, ever since he found out that the callous man was Caster’s Master, the way he looked at him changed. Even if he never paid him any attention before, Kuzuki was now giving off a dangerous vibe that made it difficult to even speak in his presence.

“It… It’s nothing!” Shinji snapped, his tone carrying no hint of respect as he hastily retreated further into Ryuudou Temple. Rider dematerialized at that, having found no need to stay in physical form anymore.

“Should you not be guarding the gate?” Kuzuki asked, turning to Assassin and completely dismissing Shinji’s attitude.

“I’m merely taking a break,” Assassin replied loftily. “What with three Servants here, I did not think we had to be so uptight about security.”

“You should get back to your assigned post,” Kuzuki suggested, turning to go.

“If I had decided to let him go, what would you have done?” Assassin asked.

“If she truly needed him, Caster would get him back,” Kuzuki replied, stopping in his tracks. “If Caster deemed him to be a threat, he would be eliminated. That’s all.”

“You do not feel anything for that kid?” Assassin raised an eyebrow. “He is your student, is he not?”

“How he lives his life is up to him,” Kuzuki stated. “I am not responsible for his life or his choices, just as how he is not responsible for mine. If we end up as opponents, I will aim to crush him with all my might.”

“Is that so,” Assassin said. “You feel no sentiment for human lives, no matter who they are?”

“All lives are equal,” Kuzuki answered. “Attaching a deeper meaning to any would be illogical.”

Without another word, Kuzuki disappeared into the Temple, leaving Assassin by himself. Pausing to ruminate on Kuzuki’s words, the swordsman slowly walked back to the edge of the steps leading to the temple gates.

The child had, in the end, refused to run. Despite his fear and lack of ability, he had been unable to swallow his own pride to save his life. Assassin doubted Matou Shinji had a wish for the Holy Grail to grant that was worth risking his life for, but there was certainly something driving him to continue this madness. To continue fighting the Holy Grail War. To pointlessly throw away his own life.

I don’t need your pity!

‘Pity’, he had said. To him, Assassin was someone pretending to be better than everyone else – a commonplace man who knew not his place in the world and yet boasted of an importance he did not have. Perhaps, in a way, he was correct.

In all honesty, Assassin was a commonplace man. He was not some celebrated figure, nor was he a man who had a wealth of accomplishments to his name. He did not even have a name to speak of, and yet here he was, proclaiming to be a Servant – an existence on the same level as true Heroic Spirits. Someone – something – like him had no right to reprimand another. Maybe Matou Shinji’s words had some truth in them after all. Maybe he was acing high and mighty.

A gentle breeze wafted by, its soft touch caressing his skin ever so briefly. It calmed him down, and despite everything that happened, took his worries away as it drifted off into the night.

What use was it to think about those things? He had always known that he was nothing more than a nameless existence, a man who had not lived. It was simply a fact. Why should it bother him any more now than it had in life?

“If only he had decided to run,” he sighed to the empty sky. “I would have had one less regret in this fight.”

The moment he perished in this War, he would once again become nothing. None of his actions, his battles, his experiences, would matter then. Any feats would merely be credited to the man called ‘Sasaki Kojirou’. But while he still existed – while he still retained form in this world – he was alive. Regardless of how arrogant it may have been, the Servant Assassin entertained the thoughts any normal person would have. Concern. Regret. Perhaps, to him, that was the one reprieve he was allowed to indulge in in this lifetime.

“If only I could see the moon tonight,” he sighed.

-

“What’s wrong, Iri?”

Those were the first and only words that came out of his mouth. He did not offer a greeting, but instead went straight to the point.

“Illya’s in trouble,” his wife said from the other side of the call.

He paused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. It would not be the first time Iri over-exaggerated something, but her tone worried him. Really worried him. This was clearly different from the time she drove a car across the sea to some remote southern island to save her stranded daughter.

“It’s a long story, but the short version is that she’s trapped in a parallel world,” Iri replied. Her voice conveyed just how much of it was a joke.

“I’ll be home first thing tomorrow morning,” he assured her. “You can fill me in then and we’ll-”

“Kiritsugu,” Iri said sharply. “The Holy Grail is active.”

All the blood in Emiya Kiritsugu’s veins turned to ice.

“I’ll be back in three hours,” he promised.

-

“Understood, Illya-san? Just repeat after me.”

Illyasviel von Einzbern, part-time Magical Girl, was in a predicament. If she could have had it her way, she would have dug a hole and crawled into it until the world ended. Alas, reality was not forgiving, and if she did not do something her brother (sort of) would be brutally murdered by her supposed homeroom teacher.

“U-um, F-Fujimura-sensei…” she squeaked.

Pausing in her violent shaking of Shirou, Taiga turned to look at the timid girl.

“U-Um, it’s not Shirou-san’s fault,” Illya said. “I-it’s our fault for not saying anything before coming over…”

Wow, it actually sounds pretty normal, Illya thought. Even Ruby can do a good job sometimes…

“My name is Illya,” she introduced. “I am Shirou-san’s fiancée.”

The Earth, at that moment, stopped rotating. The universe probably stopped functioning, but it was difficult to tell. At that moment, no one could so much as find their voice, much less reply to that announcement.

Saber’s eyes were wide. Shirou, Kuro and Miyu were stunned. Illya was on the verge of tears, having only just realized what she had just said.

Fujimura Taiga was petrified.

“I-I could not stand being unable to meet my b-beloved,” Illya went on, her face several shades redder than roses. “S-so I came here to see him with my two sisters and housemaid.”

She doubted Taiga was listening by now, but she repeated after Ruby anyway. At this point, she was really hoping the world would just suddenly explode. Recovering slightly from their shock and catching Ruby’s signal, Kuro and Miyu joined in.

“Y-yeah, that’s right!” Kuro said, her lips and eyes twitching as she forced a smile. “W-we’re here for the w-wedding!”

“U-um…” Miyu, who was the most intelligent amongst them, was completely at a loss. “Y-yes, we’re here to send our best wishes to Illya-oneechan.”

Normally, being called ‘Illya-oneechan’ by Miyu would have made her heart skip several beats, but right now Illya was pretty sure she would have preferred to be dead and buried somewhere.

“S-Shirou…” Taiga said, tears in her eyes as she looked at the boy with an expression brimming with despair.

“P-please don’t blame him,” Illya pleaded. “I’m to blame; the flames of our love just burned t-too… too brilliantly… to be extinguished…”

“I-Illya-san,” Taiga said at last, grabbing her gently by the shoulders. “D-do you know what this means? Marriage is a big event, you know.”

Is that your biggest concern?! Illya screamed in her head.

“P-please don’t chase me away…” she begged. At this point, her embarrassment had already risen to levels sufficient to force tears to her eyes. Probably knowing this, Ruby shot out a bunch of bubbles and sparkles into the air.

“I… Uh…” Taiga stammered, visibly torn between her common sense as an adult and the display of unbearable cuteness in front of her. “I… but..”

“Please?” Illya looked up with large, teary eyes. On cue, pink bubbles and sparkles surrounded her.

“I… I…” Taiga gave up, abruptly getting to her feet and charging out of the room at speeds rivalling a Servant’s. “May you be happy!”

“W-wait, Fuji-nee!” Shirou called out, chasing after the crying woman. “You’ve got it all wrong!”

“See, Illya-san?” Ruby chirped. “A Magical Girl’s greatest weapon is her cuteness after all~”

“How did that work out?!” Illya screamed. “And what was with that story?! Couldn’t you have just said we were siblings!?”

“Eeeeh… Where’s the fun in that?” Ruby whined.

“Don’t make me say those things for your amusement!”

“But Illya-san, you entered a contract with me to be my personal toy, didn’t you?”

"Is that what becoming a Magical Girl means?!"

"Well, after seeing Illya-san in Beast Mode-"

"Don't EVER bring up that... that thing! Ever!"

"... Sapphire," Miyu muttered, as Saber stepped forward to crush the red Mystic Code. "I know it may be somewhat late to say this, but I'm really glad you are my partner."

"Out of concern for Miyu-sama's wellbeing, I feel the same way," Sapphire replied.

-

The night dragged on, with Shirou finally explaining everything to a bawling Taiga. The final story was that Illya and Kuro were Kiritsugu’s daughters (which was true enough) from before Shirou was adopted, and they had come here upon hearing of Kiritsugu’s passing. Miyu became the daughter of Kiritsugu’s sister, Kirika (Shirou had come up with the name in the heat of the moment), while Saber – still a housemaid (because she was a Servant) – came along as their guardian.

“I see,” Taiga said cheerfully, her smile wide as she clenched her smoking fist. “Well now, why didn’t you just say so instead of coming up with such a horrible lie?”

“I-I’m sorry…” Illya whined, clutching her head where Taiga’s fist had mercilessly sunk into moments before. Somewhere else in the room, Kuro was doing the same.

“But, well, I don’t suppose I can turn them down,” Taiga sighed. “I mean, the streets aren’t safe lately, so it might be better if they stayed here.”

“You have my thanks, Miss Fujimura,” Saber said. Miyu followed up with that with a polite bow of her own.

“T-thank you, Fujimura-sensei…” Illya said, still massaging her head.

Taiga did not say anything, instead opting for staring at Illya as though she was some rare animal. Illya opened her mouth to speak, likely to ask what was wrong, until she realized the bubbles and sparkles were still in the air.

“Ruby, those background effects…” she muttered.

“Ah, yes,” Ruby said. “It amplifies Illya-san’s already unbeatable cuteness, enough to melt any mortal’s heart~”

“Kiritsugu-san’s so heartless!” Taiga said, grabbing Illya and hugging her close to her chest as she spun her around. “Why didn’t he mention he had such a cute daughter?! You’re like a tiny doll, Illya-chan!”

“C-can’t… breathe…” Illya struggled.

“But Shirou,” Taiga said suddenly, her tone grave. “If you do anything weird to Illya-chan or any of them, I’ll cut it off.”

“… What kind of person do you think I am?” Shirou said exasperatedly.

But Taiga was not listening, instead opting for continuing her cuddling of the suffocating Illya.

-

Away from all the commotion and lighthearted merrymaking, where no light reached, Matou Sakura writhed.

Had it been the usual ‘tuning’, she would have been fine. Had it been her brother’s usual abuse, she would have accepted it. But tonight, it was different. Tonight, she felt different.

Something was calling out to her. Something buried deep within the earth was seeking her, desiring something she did not have. Its ravenous hunger for that object sometimes clawed at her skin, while its screams echoed endlessly in her ears. On some level, she understood that they were similar; she and that formless thing yearning for her had something in common. Even if she did not know what exactly that was, she could sense the two sides pulling towards each other, drawing closer with every breath.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “What are you?”

Like many times before, the darkness gave her no answer. But she knew, without a doubt, that it was getting closer.

And soon, it would have its prize.

Chapter Text

She looked down the hallway, where dark shadows crept onto the wooden floor. Faint beams of moonlight struck at the darkness ever so briefly, before dying out as the clouds overhead swallowed the source. In the absence of light, the shadows flooded the hallway, tainting the wooden tiles with their murky touch.

She swallowed, trying desperately to keep the confusion from hijacking her thoughts. Somewhere in this place lay her friends, peacefully asleep and unaware of the predicament she was in. They would not be there to help her, and Illyasviel von Einzbern was alone.

Even Ruby was not with her, so she could not transform into a Magical Girl and fly. Of all the times she needed her, the loudmouthed Mystic Code was not around. Granted, she could try to find her way without using magic, but the hallways were long and dark and-

“What’re you spacing out for?”

“Kyaaaah!”

“You know, it’s the middle of the night,” Lancer said, as he raised an eyebrow at the little girl cowering in a corner and hunched over like a ball. “Do you wanna wake everyone up or something?”

“D-don’t startle me like that!” Illya cried, though she did lower her voice. “Since when have you been here?!”

“I was here all along,” Lancer replied. “Servants can dematerialize into spiritual form, you know. And it’s not like we need to sleep so we tend to just hang around on the alert for enemies.”

“B-but Saber-san is sleeping, isn’t she?” Illya asked, slowly getting to her feet. The heated debate about whether it was alright for Saber to sleep in the same room as Shrou was still vivid in her memory.

“Ah, she’s a special case, she is,” Lancer replied. “She can’t go into spiritual form for some reason, so sleeping’s the best way she can reduce her mana consumption rate. Your big brother ain’t exactly the best magus around either, so she really needs to watch it.”

“That explains her enormous appetite…” Illya muttered.

“Anyway,” Lancer said. “What were you doing sneaking around like a thief?”

“I-I wasn’t sneaking around!” Illya denied, her cheeks flushing red. “I was… well… I was just kinda lost…”

“What’s that?” Lancer asked, unable to catch the inaudible mumbles of his Master.

“I-I got lost,”Illya repeated.

Lancer did not quite know how to respond to that, so he simply kept quiet and let that sentence hang in the air while Illya fidgeted uncomfortably with her clothes. He was pretty sure his lower jaw was hanging open a little, but could not actually do anything about it.

“… Hey,” he said at last.

“Y-yes?” Illya asked timidly.

“You’re really something else, you are.”

Had there been a hole in the ground between them, Illya would have dived right in.

-

After a short walk back to the room she was supposed to be sleeping in, Illya heaved a sigh of relief.

“T-thank you,” she said meekly.

“Don’t mention it,” Lancer replied. “Though I don’t think you’d want to mention this to anyone anyway.”

“… Yeah, you’re right,” Illya mumbled.

Silence followed the brief exchange, with neither side saying or doing anything. Illya, who was supposed to return to her room, stayed where she was while Lancer, likely sensing something was amiss, did not dematerialize.

“What’s wrong; ya don’t feel sleepy anymore?” he teased. When Illya did not reply, the smirk slid off his face almost instantly. “… Are you serious?”

Unwilling (or simply too embarrassed) to reply, Illya nodded. Lancer opened his mouth to speak – probably to express his disbelief – before finally stopping himself as he considered the girl in front of him.

Master status or no, Illya was a child. A little kid who, despite the situation she was in, was too young to be risking her life. If he looked at her from a Servant’s perspective, she was nowhere near competent enough to be a Master. However, if he looked at her as an individual, he could not blame her for acting the way she did.

“Well, no sense just standing there,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the corridor overlooking the yard. He was the adult here after all, so he might as well save her the embarrassment of having to ask it herself. “Sit down. I’ll keep ya company till you feel sleepy enough.”

“O-okay!” Illya replied, beaming as she walked over to the spearman. She was an open book, which was a refreshing change from Lancer’s previous Master.

“You’re a real piece of work, y’know,” he said before he could stop himself. “I don’t think there’ll ever be a kid like you in the Holy Grail War after this one.”

“Why’s that?” Illya asked.

“Well, for one, I’ve never heard of a Master who got scared by their own Servant before.”

“B-but you really startled me!” Illya retorted. “Anyone would be scared if their friend just suddenly appeared out of nowhere!”

“… Ah, that’s right,” Lancer said. “You did say something like that.”

To the girl sitting next to him, Lancer was not an ally. He was not a tool, a familiar, or even a bodyguard – all natural things for a Master to see Servants as. Instead, she saw him as a person – someone she trusted enough to call a ‘friend’. It was something that still puzzled Lancer even now.

He had initially thought of it as some sort of trick. If it was indeed genuine, then the reason for her actions was likely either insanity or childish naïveté; after all, no decent magus would ever entertain such irrational thoughts – a fact that he and his first Master had learned the hard way.

She had trusted him. His Master – Bazett Fraga McRemitz – had trusted the man known as Kotomine Kirei. She had, just like this girl next to him now, decided to put her trust in someone else. In the world of magi, that sort of weakness was a fatal mistake, one that had robbed Bazett of her life. And this child, clueless to the harshness of reality, was committing the same mistake.

“Eh? What do you mean?” Illya asked, tilting her head to one side.

“It’s nothing,” Lancer replied, waving away her question. “Say, kid-”

“It’s ‘Illya’,” she corrected him.

“… What’s your wish for the Holy Grail?” Lancer asked, ignoring her correction.

“Wish?” Illya echoed. “I… I don’t know…”

“Then you ought to think of one,” Lancer suggested. “Every Master has a reason to seek that thing after all.”

But he knew she would not have one. It was to be expected. She had not been a participant to begin with, and had ended up as a Master via the strangest of ways. It was only natural for her to not have a reason to fight. And, above all, it was only natural that she did not have the resolve necessary to survive the War.

A wish was, in essence, a goal. It was nothing more than an objective to be achieved. The nature of the wish did not matter; it was the resolve born from said desire that mattered. That resolve was what kept the person fighting, rising against adversity, and would eventually lead them to victory. Battles fought were, beyond an exchange of skill, a clash of resolve. But for a young girl whose innocence was still intact and had insufficient combat ability to defend herself, the lack of such determination would spell her doom far too quickly.

“If… if I had to wish for something,” Illya said at last. “I think that… I’ll wish for the people who died in this battle to be brought back. O-of course, I’m not hoping people will die, but…”

“… What did you say?” Lancer asked.

“Because it’s just not right, isn’t it?” Illya replied. “Even if we are competing for something, if people have to die in the process, then winning the prize loses its meaning right? Wouldn’t it be better if everyone-”

“You’re mistaken about something, kid,” Lancer cut across her sharply. “The important part of this War isn’t the result, but rather the battle fought for that result. And most important of all, the participants of this Holy Grail War aren’t people who want or require your pity.”

“Eh?” Illya involuntarily edged away from him at his sudden change in tone.

“I will say this about the Servants,” Lancer said. “We are, for better or for worse, Heroic Spirits with our own pride to defend. We seek the Holy Grail, but if we are slain in the process by a worthy opponent, we’ll accept that fate. That’s what it means to be a Heroic Spirit.”

“B-but-”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Lancer went on. There was no sarcasm in his voice; he really did not expect to be understood by a mere child. “It’s an unspoken oath warriors carry with them onto the battlefield. It’s the duty of the victor to shoulder the lives of those he has slain upon his shoulders. If you undo that defeat, then they’ve lost the meaning behind the fight in which they bet their life.

“It’s likely the same for the Masters,” he said, looking at Illya. “Your opponents are all magi who have a wish they want granted by the Holy Grail. They put their lives in danger, and if you win only to bring them back, then that means you crushed their hopes and dreams merely to reset everything, leaving everyone with nothing. Is that what you want?”

“N-no,” Illya replied hastily. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you…”

“I know,” Lancer sighed. “Can’t blame you for thinking the way you did. But now that you know, are you still gonna wish for the same thing?”

Illya fell silent at that, clearly disturbed by the question she had to answer. On some level, Lancer did feel somewhat guilty about forcing a girl that young into such an uncomfortable situation, but the child was a Master; like it or not, she had to participate in the Holy Grail War. If she could not find it in her the resolve to fight against others, there was no hope for her survival. If that was the case, it would probably be better if Lancer fought alone, rather than drag along a defenseless girl.

“I…” Illya said at last, slowly meeting Lancer’s eyes. “My answer… is the same.”

Scarlet met scarlet, and even without a verbal exchange, Lancer understood that she had not said those words without really thinking it through first. He returned her gaze, wordlessly telling her to continue.

“I can’t say I understand what it means to be a warrior,” Illya said. “And I don’t want to trample on anyone’s pride… But I also have things I want to protect. I have people I love, people I don’t want to see get hurt. Kuro, Miyu, Ruby, Sapphire, Shirou-san, Saber-san, Fujimura-sensei, all my friends from the world I come from, my family, my ‘elder sisters’ Sella and Liz… and of course you, Setanta-san… I-I mean Lancer-san. If any of you died or got hurt, I’d be sad. It might be selfish of me to want something like that, but I want to be with everyone. I want to laugh and be happy with everyone. I’m sure the other Masters and Servants have people they care about as well, and… it might be childish of me, but I don’t want anyone to be sad. If the Holy Grail truly can grant any wish, then… I just want everyone to be happy. Without any sacrifices, or any bloodshed.”

She did not look away. Despite her meek and downright timid actions before, the little girl was now looking at Lancer straight in the eyes. There was still in her eyes – and he did not blame her for that – but there was also determination shining in those pupils.

“… I get it,” Lancer said, his lips parting into a thin smile. “I hear you loud and clear, kid. Those guts ain’t bad; as expected of someone who openly declared her love ‘burned too brilliantly to be extinguished’…”

“E-eh?! Th-that was…!”

Right on cue, Illya entered ‘flustered mode’, stammering and trying desperately to hide her newfound wave of embarrassment. Instead of offering his usual sigh of exasperation, Lancer let out a bark-like chuckle.

In her eyes, the world was simple. She knew not of wars, of bloodshed, of magecraft, of reality. Perhaps that was why she could earnestly believe in those childish fantasies. She could not let go of anything, and yet she wanted to acquire everything. It was unbelievably selfish, but at the same time, it was completely understandable.

It was a very ordinary child’s very ordinary greed.

“Well, it’s not exactly what I expected, but it’ll do,” he said. “I’ll acknowledge that wish of yours, brat.”

“… Eh?” Illya looked at him, confusion etched across her face. She had already lost count of the number of times she had said ‘eh’ that night.

“It’s fine even if you don’t get it,” he said. “Just know that I’m willing to fight with you, kid.”

It took him a moment to realize that he had said ‘with’ and not ‘for’, but it did not bother him as much as he thought it would have. Maybe messing around with these strange Masters was making him weird too.

“That’s great,” Illya heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m… so glad… to…”

With a soft sound, something small and light landed on Lancer’s leg. Looking down only to find Illya fast asleep there, using his leg as a makeshift pillow, Lancer sighed. He always seemed to find himself being reminded that she was only a child, despite it being a fact anyone could see. She was indeed a special Master, in more ways than one.

With all the adrenaline out of her system and her mind at ease hearing Lancer’s reply, Illya’s body had simply thrown in the towel. The fatigue (coupled with the mana Lancer was consuming by being in corporeal form) finally took its toll after a long, long day, and it was unlikely she would wake up even if he moved her. Even so, Lancer did not move.

He would return her to her room later, but for now, he decided to let her sleep.

Chapter Text

“W-wait a minute,” she groaned. “N-not so tight…”

“Geez, you’re pathetic,” Kuro sighed. “You’re the one who came up with this idea in the first place, so bear with it.”

“That was Ruby, not me!” Illya protested.

“Eh~ But I was merely acting upon Illya-san’s own desires…” Ruby whined.

“Which part of that was my desire?!”

“Illya, don’t fidget around so much,” Miyu said, tightening the dress.

“S-sorry,” Illya apologized feebly, keeping still and letting her carry on with her work.

“But, well, who would’ve thought the spell would work that well…” Ruby mused. “I guess this is what you would call a ‘lucky mistake’?”

“Ugh… Spare me…” Illya sobbed.

“Okay, it’s done,” Miyu said. “How does it feel, Illya?”

“It’s a little tight, but not uncomfortable,” Illya replied, looking at herself in the mirror. “Thank you, Miyu!”

“Ooh, this is a surprisingly good sight!” Ruby said gleefully, flying about her tiny master. “Illya-san, is this your first time wearing a wedding dress?”

“Of course it is!” Illya exclaimed.

Dressed in a snow-white gown that flowed onto the floor, she could not physically make a grab for Ruby, so she settled for glaring daggers at the Mystic Code instead. She would have said something about the camera she somehow produced out of that small body of hers, if not for the camera Miyu of all people was holding in her hands.

“But is this really necessary?” Illya wondered aloud. “Just because Taig- I mean, just because Fujimura-sensei believed in Ruby’s story… I-is it really necessary to have a mock wedding just to fool her?”

“Well, it’s not like we can just conveniently erase memories whenever we want to,” Ruby said, making a gesture for a shrug with her wings. Then, in a softer tone, she added, “Besides, it’s more fun this way…”

“It’s not fun for me…” Illya mumbled.

“I’ll say,” Kuro added. “If anything, I should be the one marrying onii-chan.”

“H-he’s not actually onii-chan!” Illya retorted, going beet red.

“Illya, that means rather than a proper relationship, you prefer actual in… cest…” Miyu pointed out, going pink in the face.

“T-that’s not-” Illya’s brain short-circuited at that, unable to believe she had just stepped on a landmine herself. “A-anyway! I-it’s not like it’s a real… w-wedding, so…”

“My, my…” Ruby said happily. “You say that, but aren’t you happy about this? Proper or not, you still get to kiss Shirou-san don’t you?”

“Ki-” Illya felt her brain short-circuit for the second time in ten seconds. The room was suddenly several hundred degrees too hot for comfort. She could not recall what she said in response to that, or if she even replied at all.

That had been hours ago. Or at least, it felt like hours ago. Right now, Illya was at the alter, standing face-to-face with her ‘beloved’, while hearing without listening to the priest Kotomine Kirei as he recited from the bible. It seemed to drag on and on, with not a single word registering in Illya’s head because of the thoughts flooding her mind.

It-it’s really happening, isn’t it?! She thought. I-I guess I wanted something like this someday, but… Is this really okay?

“I-I do,” Shirou stammered, snapping Illya out of her flustered thoughts. It did not take a genius to figure out that he was embarrassed as well.

“Very well,” Kirei said blankly, closing the bible in his hands. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Is that how this goes?! Illya thought. D-don’t I have to say something as well?!

But Shirou was leaning in. He was bending forward to compensate for their difference in height, and his face. Was. Close. So close. Too close.

“Um, Illya?” Shirou whispered. “We have to finish this thing or Fuji-nee may get suspicious.”

“Do you need any help?” Ruby asked cheekily in her ear, before abruptly pushing her head towards his-

Their lips met. A million thoughts swarmed Illya’s head as she felt his lips on hers, setting her entire body on fire. A part of her body wanted to pull away, but her limbs were utterly frozen and her mind was a mess. All she could do in that position was stay there and focus on the… kiss.

Strangely enough, Shirou’s lips were not warm. There was no heat in them, and they were not soft like flesh should be. Instead, she felt like she was kissing a piece of metal, like the flat end of a sword or something similar. But Shirou was a human, so why did he give off the vibe an inanimate object would…?

Unable to make sense of the bizarre phenomenon, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him further into the kiss-

-

When she opened her eyes, Ruby was in her face. She was so close, in fact, that Illya’s lips were planted solidly on the star embedded within the ring.

“Oh my, Illya-san…” Ruby said, sounding embarrassed. “I-if you were really into this sort of thing, you could always just discuss-”

Illya’s scream went into ultrasonic.

“Must have been a nice dream, huh~?” Ruby teased, floating around her depressed Master. “Well, with one of my hidden functions, I can easily peek into Illya-san’s memories and-”

“Don’t! You! Dare!” Illya shouted, grabbing Ruby with both hands at a speed that would have impressed Lancer.

Ah… This is the worst… she thought as she wept. Ruby is teasing me both in real life and in my dreams… And… such a thing… of course it was a dream… There’s no way s-something like that would… ever happen… and besides, there’s no way Miyu would actually take photos of me like that...

“It must have been a very nice dream,” Ruby commented, flying out of her grasp. “You wouldn’t wake up even when I called out your name…”

“Ugh… Leave me alone…” Illya groaned. “Wait a minute. Where’s everyone?”

“At the dojo,” Ruby replied. “Kuro-san mentioned something about helping Shirou-san train, so they should be sparring right about now.”

“Eh? Kuro did?” Illya asked. “Why?”

“Who knows?” Ruby shrugged. “She said something about Shirou-san being the only one who could match Rin-san’s Servant, and since she knew about his techniques…”

“Rin-san’s Servant… Archer…-san, was it?” Illya recalled. “Now that I think about it… he wears the same clothes as the Kuro does, right? Does that mean they’re the same Heroic Spirit?”

“It’s very likely, yes,” Ruby replied. “From what we’ve gathered so far, that held true for the Lancer and Saber cards, so it stands to reason the other Servants would correspond to the remaining cards as well.”

“But even if that’s the case, why would Shirou-san be the only one who can match him?” Illya wondered aloud. “Lancer-san and Saber-san aside, wouldn’t Kuro have the best chance against him?”

“Well, it’s only a hypothesis at this point, but…” Ruby trailed off, leaving the rest of her sentence hanging.

“But…?”

“Maybe it’s so she can hog Shirou-san all to herself, don’t you think?!” Ruby finished.

“Wha-”

Before Ruby could get in another word, Illya had already charged out the door.

-

The sharp crack of clashing shinais rang over and over, often followed by a grunt of pain from an auburn-haired boy. Contrary to what Ruby had said, Kuro and Shirou were actually training properly – much to Illya’s relief. Even if Shirou was completely getting his ass kicked by the younger girl.

“Too slow!” Kuro scolded, sending Shirou’s shinai flying out of reach.

“Darn,” Shirou panted, tightening the grip on the remaining shinai in his other hand. “One more time!”

“… No, not quite,” Kuro said, appraising him. “We’ve been at it for an hour but there’s no improvement at all… This method clearly isn’t working.”

“Hold on, Kuro,” Shirou insisted. “It’s just been an hour; I can still-”

“We don’t have the time,” Kuro cut across him. “Now that we’re going through with Caster’s plan, you need to get stronger and fast. At this rate, we won’t make it.”

As much as he wanted to deny it, Shirou could not. The agreed upon time was tomorrow night, where they would raid Ryuudou Temple alongside Caster to rescue her Master. It was too soon (which could not be helped since rescuing someone was not something to be delayed), and as Kuro pointed out, at this rate he would just be a burden on the team. For him – someone who aspired to be a hero of justice – that was not acceptable by any means.

“You’re right,” he begrudgingly agreed. “But-”

“That’s why we’ll stop with using this method,” Kuro cut across him, throwing away her shinai and instead producing the same pair of swords she and Archer favored. “Instead, we’ll do things a little more… violently.”

Shirou did not respond. He heard Kuro’s words, and he indeed harbored questions, but the moment those swords appeared he stopped caring about anything else. He could not quite tell why, but the mere sight of those swords had rendered him spellbound.

They were nothing like Lancer’s spear, which was very much like the spearman himself – wild, dangerous, and thirsting for the thrill of the hunt like a starving predator. They were nothing like the sword Miyu had – an exquisite blade full of pride and purpose despite clearly being a downgraded copy. Those swords in Kuro’s hands held neither aspirations nor real purpose, and reflected neither pride nor aura. The craftsmanship of the blades was captivating, far more than anything he had seen in his life.

“Now, Shirou,” Kuro said, getting into position. “I want you to produce these swords.”

“Me? Produce those swords?” Shirou echoed. “That’s impossible; I can’t do anything except Reinforcement, and I’m not even that good with it.”

“But the first type of magecraft you-” Kuro winced, as though something was hurting her. “w-was Projection, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Shirou replied. “Wait; how do you know that?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Kuro insisted. “Just Project those swords and fight me. If you can’t,” she added, as Shirou opened his mouth to protest. “Then I guess you should just...”

Before those words registered in Shirou’s head, Kuro had vanished. By the time he reacted to that, Kuro’s voice came from behind him:

“… Die,” she finished.

Throwing himself forward on reflex, Shirou felt the unmistakable sting of sharp metal as it tore through his shirt. Rolling away from his foe, he hastily got to his feet, strengthening the shinai in his hand as he did.

“Not a bad dodge,” Kuro complimented. “But if you don’t counterattack, you won’t win, onii-chan.”

A shiver ran down Shirou’s spine. For an instant, he was reminded of the tiny girl who controlled that hulking bronze giant, and for the first time since they started training he could feel a truly dangerous vibe from the girl.

“Hold on, Kuro-” Saber began, but Lancer stopped her in her tracks with one hand. The other hand went to stopping Illya, who had jumped up in protest at the exact the same time. “Why do you stop me, Lancer?”

“Calm down, both of ya,” he said. “She’s indeed displaying some bloodlust, but she ain’t out to kill the kid. As long as it doesn’t get out of hand, just let it be.”

“Lancer,” Saber muttered. “Do you think that this will really help Shirou replicate Archer’s swords?”

“Who knows,” Lancer replied. “Modern magic is beyond me. However, the best way to get the kid accustomed to combat’s to give him the feel of actual battle. And besides, that tanned ojou-chan does have a knack for mimicking that bastard, so it’s probably safe to say she knows more about his techniques than we do.”

“B-but, to put Shirou-san in danger like this…” Illya began.

“We’re charging straight into the enemy stronghold,” Lancer reminded her. “If he can’t handle this much, he’ll just get himself killed. Ain’t that so, mini-Saber?”

“… Yes,” Miyu agreed reluctantly. Logically speaking, Lancer was correct, but there were times even she did not like the logical answer.

Well, there’s that, Lancer thought, but her moves are better than I thought. How did she lose that badly with her skills?

Having fought Archer once at the school, Lancer was more or less familiar with his abilities. Unless he had been holding back in that fight (which was quite possible considering that bastard), the bowman should not have overpowered Kuro like she and Saber had described. Differences in speed and strength aside, Archer and Kuro effectively fought with the same style, which reduced the overall difference in capability. When he had first fought Illya in her ‘Lancer Install’ form, he could tell that Illya was using his techniques, and if he applied the same logic to Kuro…

“Have you noticed it, Lancer?” Saber asked, noting the look in his eyes. “This is different from Illya’s… ‘Install’ ability.”

“You’ve fought Archer one-on-one before?” Lancer asked back.

“After the battle in the yard,” Saber explained. “It was a brief exchange, and after that I had Kuro and Miyu fighting by my side, so I cannot say his attention was entirely on me in that battle.”

“… We didn’t actually do anything…” Miyu muttered under her breath.

“Kuro as she is right now is closer to Archer than Illya was to you or Miyu was to me,” Saber went on, failing to catch Miyu’s comment. “As for why that is, I cannot quite place it…”

“It’s probably because of the Class Card inside Kuro,” Miyu reasoned. “The Heroic Spirits within the Class Cards are most likely based off of the same Heroic Spirits in this Holy Grail War. It’s likely because of that connection that Illya and I were able to glean your techniques during confrontation.”

“A resonance between identical souls, you mean?” Saber asked, sounding awed at the thought. “Even if such a thing is possible, why is Kuro different from the two of you?”

“That’s probably because of nee-san and myself,” Sapphire spoke up. “When Illya-sama and Miyu-sama use Include, the two of us are able to become the medium for the Class Card and become the Noble Phantasm. However, in the case of Install, while we are still the medium for the Class Card, the user’s body is also used for the pseudo-summon. The user dons the Heroic Spirit’s abilities, and since these Spirits have more in common with a human soul than we Mystic Codes do, their memories are also ‘downloaded’ into the user via the Class Card due to the resonance that occurs. In-”

“Wait, Sapphire-chan!” Ruby said. “Leave the rest to me! I don’t get enough serious lines these days, what with teasing Illya-san and all…”

“Hey, wait a min-” Illya began.

“Ahem. In Kuro-san’s case,” Ruby said, ignoring her master. “She does not have a Mystic Code to act as a medium. Instead, her entire existence is tied to the Archer card. She is the sole medium for the Heroic Spirit’s power, and without the ‘safety net’ that is us Mystic Codes, she’s likely to be more susceptible to the Card’s influence. A larger spike in combat prowess isn’t likely with a situation like hers.”

“Does that mean she can get possessed by that bastard’s soul?” Lancer asked.

No one replied to that. In truth, with the exception of Saber and Lancer, they all knew that Installing a Class Card without a Kaleidostick was indeed possible, and that the effects of doing so were far better, but that occurrence had been a phenomenon they were unable to explain even now. However, the real reason they did not want to bring it up was something else.

The one time Illya had Installed the Archer card without Ruby to defeat the Class Card Saber, it felt like the Heroic Spirit of the Bow was performing battle on its own. If such a thing was indeed the case, the implications on what could happen to Kuro were clear.

“Well then,” Lancer said, getting to his feet as Saber did the same. “Let’s go, munchkin.”

“Eh? Where to?” Illya asked.

“Training,” Lancer replied. “We Servants are always at the top of our game, but you guys can improve by sparring with us, right? Then let’s not sit around wasting time.”

“That is correct,” Saber nodded, turning to Miyu. “We will be of no help to Shirou here, so let us go, Miyu.”

“Understood,” Miyu replied, casting a worried glance towards the boy barely keeping up with Kuro.

“Ah, right,” Lancer said, as though he suddenly remembered something. “None of that ‘Beast Mode’ thing, ‘kay?”

“As if I’d do that!” Illya screamed.

-

Shirou tightened the grip on his reinforced shinai, his breathing ragged and his clothes torn. Saber and the others had left, leaving him more room to dodge, but it also provided Kuro more angles to attack him from.

“You’re recovering well,” Kuro pointed out, as the smaller cuts started healing themselves. “Still not at his level of combat proficiency, though.”

Shirou did not reply, being too busy trying to make sense of the situation. Every time he crossed blows with Kuro – or more specifically, every time their weapons touched – he felt his body become slightly more agile. The fatigue was not gone and the pain still lingered, but every time the tremors of impact shook his arm his movements improved after; without thinking, he could dodge better and without having to predict her moves, he could react to them. There was something about their weapons – or perhaps their magecraft – colliding that subconsciously improved his skills. But was such a thing even possible?

“You don’t have the time to space out!” Kuro yelled, swinging her swords at him from the side.

Shirou could not react in time. Even with the improvements in agility, the fatigue on his body was weighing him down a great deal. Unable to properly parry the blow, he lost his shinai as Kuro knocked it cleanly out of his hands.

Without pausing, Kuro used the momentum of her swing to complete her turn, hacking away at Shirou’s chest and drawing two streams of crimson in their wake. Gasping in pain and hastily backing away, Shirou attempted to dive for his shinai, only for Kuro to sink her knee squarely into his gut.

“Ugh!” Shirou grunted, falling to his knees.

What am I doing? Kuro thought, pausing in her thorough abuse of her older brother. What’s gotten into me? Even if it’s to help him, this is going too far!

I should have never become a hero.

The same words returned to her mind, howling inside her head and tearing at her brain. Regret, despair, anger – all the raging emotions that did not and should not belong to her – flooded her body and threatened to overwhelm her delicate frame.

Those ideals were not my own.

Shut up, Kuro snapped back in her head. This is my body, not yours! Get out of-

The man called Emiya Shirou… should not have lived.

When she picked up on the meaning of those words, Kuro’s hand had already moved on their own; without obeying her will or caring about the man before her, her right hand lifted the sword of misty white.

“… Kuro…?” Shirou coughed, looking up at her.

“R-run,” she croaked. But the killing intent pouring out of her being was real. Far more real than anything she had mustered before.

Disappear.

The blade descended. Shirou screamed. Blood sprayed into the air.
Streaks of light burst before Kuro’s eyes as her sword shattered.

Instinctively, her left hand countered. However, before she could even complete half a swing, the black sword too was smashed into countless pieces.

Her right hand throbbed with a dull pain, from where Shirou had cut into in his attempt to deflect her blow. She could feel the blood trickling down her fingers and onto the dojo’s floorboards, but she did not have the time to pay attention to that.

Panting from the effort, Shirou slightly relaxed his stance. In his hands, which had been empty before, now lay two beautiful swords – the exact same pair that Archer and Kuro had been so inclined towards. They were without a doubt the married swords Kanshou and Bakuya, and it was for the first time since she used them that Kuro thought they looked truly beautiful as they rested in his grip.

“T-that’s it,” she stammered, running past him and exiting the dojo without another word.

“Wait, Kuro-” Shirou began, but a sharp jolt of pain surged through his body and forced him back to his knees. Unable to maintain his grip on his weapons, he let go of them, and it took all of one second before they faded back into nothing. “Ugh! What on Earth…”

As someone who had trained himself physically, Shirou was no stranger to muscle pain due to excessive strain. He did not fancy himself the strongest man around, but he figured he had a higher threshold for pain than most. This, however, was on another level altogether.

“What… is this…?”

But the empty dojo offered him no answers.

-

“Ow… My body’s still aching…”

Stepping out of the department store, Illya mumbled to herself. The training with Lancer had been tougher than expected, even if she did manage to improve from it. It was definitely not something she pictured proper Magical Girls would do, but if it helped her survive, she was not going to complain. Much.

I wonder how everyone else is doing, Illya thought to herself. Kuro had still been training with Shirou when she left the house, and Miyu had all but collapsed from training with Saber (who actually admitted she might have gone overboard). It made her somewhat glad that her sparring partner was Lancer instead.
“But was it really alright, Illya-san?” Ruby asked from inside her hair. “Wouldn’t it have been better to have Lancer-san follow you?”

“There’s no helping it,” Illya sighed. “It’s better if he’s there to help Shirou-san with his training than out here shopping for dinner with me… Besides, I get the feeling Kuro’s bothered by something lately… It’ll be better if she has someone to help split the burden with.”

“That’s good and all, but what’ll you do if an enemy attacks?” Ruby asked. She had not expected Illya to end up this far from the house, and even the Mystic Code was starting to worry a little for her master.

“It’s alright,” Illya replied. “There’re plenty of people around, so they can’t cause a ruckus in public, and I have the Command Spells with me, so it’ll be alright!”

“Hmm? Where did all that enthusiasm come from?” Ruby asked. “Weren’t you complaining like a geezer not too long ago?”

“Well… I just kind of realized…” Illya muttered, looking around. “Even though this place isn’t home, it’s still Fuyuki… So it’s not as scary as I initially-”

The rest of the sentence died in her throat, and her entire body froze over in an instant. Almost as though time itself had stopped, Illya found herself immobile, unable to exert any force on her petrified limbs. Her throat would not obey, and even her eyes refused to turn. Just as her terrified mind tried to make sense of the situation, an extremely familiar voice froze the blood in her veins.

“Good evening,” Illyasviel greeted from behind her.

Chapter Text

“Archer? Is something wrong?”

Tearing his eyes away from the window, the Servant in red kept his expression as neutral as possible to avoid suspicion.

For a brief moment, he had felt it. Just like how that infuriating man had sensed his arrow before, Archer was sure he had felt the same Projection magecraft being performed by him. Granted, the magecraft itself was nothing special, but it carried a much different meaning for Archer when it t was used by that man.

That man had been a pathetic, wretched existence and, in a way, he still was even now. He had nothing – not even the power to back up his words – but that pointless determination had given him something to call his own. Something that reflected the very despair he had trudged into.

My body is made of swords.

The magecraft, insignificant like he was, gave him the power to fight. Regardless of whether he knew its true nature or not, the ability to Project was Emiya Shirou’s first weapon. For a man unable to manifest that Inner World, it may very well be his only means of survival.

He would have been fine with that. As the farce of a hero that he was, Archer was more than prepared for him to use Projection in this Holy Grail War. It was simply an inevitable outcome the moment Rin first ran into him. He had anticipated it, but it felt… different.

He had had little interaction with him thus far, owing to the multitude of things that got in his way. He was pretty sure the boy had hardly gotten so much as a glance at his weapons. Maybe if he had seen Archer in action more, the Projection he just sensed might have been possible. But that was not the case.

Did that cosplay girl…? He wondered.

“Archer?” Rin called out. Despite the fatigue, her voice had lost none of its sharpness. He would not be surprised if she decided to start lecturing right then and there. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t,” Archer replied. “I thought I felt the presence of an enemy, but I guess I was mistaken.”

Rin glared at him but said nothing, either because she was too tired or she had not picked up on his lie (Granted, it was not entirely a lie, but Archer opted not to point that out). Disgruntled at not being able to chew him out, Rin busied herself with a sip of tea, determined not to meet his eyes.

“Well, whatever,” she sulked. “It wasn’t anything important anyway.”

Archer suppressed the urge to chuckle. Ever since his Master had decided to talk to Illya – the real one who kept Berserker on a leash – he had been worried for her wellbeing. If the possibility of being pulverised by that herculean behemoth was not bad enough, the amount of blood vessels that had surely exploded in Rin’s head during their conversation was surely hazardous to her health.

He remembered being genuinely worried at one point if he had to restrain his Master from jumping across the table and tearing Illya’s throat out with her bare hands. It was practically a miracle that she managed to control herself in the end.

“W-what’s with the creepy smile?” Rin asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Archer replied. “Just thought about how rare it was for you to sulk like that. Must be Illya’s influence.”

“Wha- I-I’m not sulking!” Rin denied, a faint blush on her cheeks. “I-I’m just upset that you ignored me!”

That’s what the world refers to as ‘sulking’, Rin, Archer thought. He knew all hell would break loose if he actually said it out loud, so he held his tongue. “That aside, are you sure about this, Master?”

“Of course not,” Rin replied, pinching the bridge of her nose as she set her teacup down. “The less I have to deal with that infuriating little monster, the better. But her Servant will be useful. Unless you can take on, what, four Servants at once?”

“That is true,” Archer conceded. “However, you should give yourself more credit, Master; like I’ve said before, I cannot be anything but the strongest Servant since I was summoned by you. Even if I can’t fight them all, I can at least match Saber in terms of combat ability. Have more confidence, Rin.”

“What’s with the sudden flattery…” Rin mumbled, the scarlet hue of her shirt slowly invading her cheeks. “I won’t go easier on you just because you praised me…”

“Hm? What was that, Rin?”

“I-it’s nothing!” Rin all but exploded, looking at anywhere but him. Then, in a lower voice, she added, “… Idiot.”

“But, well, what’s done is done,” Archer went on. “I won’t question your decision. However, I hope you’re mentally prepared for what’s to come.”

As those words passed his lips, he found himself recalling the conversations they used to have. In the shattered pieces of his hazy memory, she was still smiling. In the few lucid scenes haunting his mind, she was still safe. If there was one thing he had to achieve besides killing Emiya Shirou in this Holy Grail War, it was to make sure she never had to make that face ever again.

He remembered the look in her eyes. Obstinate yet gentle, she had screamed at him with a voice he could no longer hear. He could not recall her words, but he would never forget the pain in her eyes.

The tears on her face.

Even if he could not recall the words, he could guess what she had said. She had surely tried to scold him, to say she would stop caring about him if he continued to hurt himself. And when that failed, she would voice her true thoughts, expressing her genuine concerns for him and telling him not to go. That was the Tohsaka Rin he knew, and that was the Tohsaka Rin he had… admired.

And that was the Tohsaka Rin he had abandoned.

He had forsaken her, much like how he had forsaken Illya. In his pursuit of an ideal he could not understand, he had denied her the chance to help him. To save him.

Surely, her tearstained last words must have been: if you walk down that path, you yourself will never be saved.

No anger. No sarcasm. All that was surely poured into those words was grief that tore his chest apart.

That was the last time he had spoken to Tohsaka Rin. That was the last time he had heard her voice, before he became a farce of a Hero of Justice. Would she forgive him now, if she knew what he had become? Would she shed tears over the laughable existence he now was?

Would he be able to stand seeing her so hurt again?

“… Hey, Archer.”

The Tohsaka Rin before him called out, her face more serious than it had been moments before. She looked hesitant – a look that did not suit her elegant visage.

“I’m wondering… if I should make you fight after all,” she said.

“… What do you mean?” Archer asked. “I have no other purpose as a Servant but to fight.”

“I know,” Rin said, her voice gentle instead of impatient. “It’s just that… when I was sleeping after talking to Illyasviel, I had a dream. It was a dream about how you… died.”

Archer stayed silent. He already knew that such a thing was possible after all, having experienced it firsthand before.

“It didn’t give me much insight as to which hero you were,” Rin went on. “But from your actions in this War so far… I can tell you’re shouldering something by yourself.”

He did not ask what actions she was referring to. Knowing her, she would have picked up on even the smallest details, and he was not exactly known for being the most meticulous of individuals. He had little doubt that she had even noticed the ‘Illya’ slip-up earlier as well.

“If this battle is causing you pain, then I won’t force you to fight,” she said. “There’s no guarantee the plan will work, so you could die and… I just… I just have a feeling that fighting this Holy Grail War is… tormenting you.”

Archer did not reply. If he had to be perfectly honest, it was indeed hurting him; he had once bid unwilling goodbyes to all those people in his life, and even after being summoned to a time when they were alive, he was forced to fight them as an enemy.

Illya. Saber. Shinji. He had to hurt the same Masters and Servants all over again, just to accomplish a selfish goal. Of course it was tormenting him, but there was no way he could tell that to Rin.

“You’re kind, Rin,” he said with a smile.

“W-what’s with you all of a sudden?!” Rin asked, blushing furiously. “A-and to think I went out of my way to worry about you!”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, walking over to her and looking at her straight in the eyes. “That’s why I said you’re kind.”

No matter what she said, Tohsaka Rin was a human before she was a magus. No matter how much she spoke of being ruthless for the sake of her goals, she could not turn her heart to stone. She was far gentler than she appeared to be, and it was out of that kindness that she wanted to save him.

That kindness ended up being responsible for her tears.

“Rin,” he said, dropping all pretences in that moment. “If you’re prepared to do whatever it takes to finish this, see it through till the end.”

Cast aside that kindness. Become the ideal magus you were meant to be.

“Even if things don’t go your way, don’t falter. Proceed down the path you chose to follow.”

If things go wrong, give up on them. Give up on him.

“… Archer?” Rin asked hesitantly. Even if the words were simple, the look in his eyes told another story. There was something in his words, something far deeper than what she was getting – something only the Heroic Spirit himself understood.

“You’re strong.”

There were many things he had to say. There were countless things he had to tell her, that could possibly save her the pain she had to endure. Things that could make sure she never had to cry, even in the event of him failing to kill that man. But he could not do it.

Because that’s the Tohsaka Rin I fell in love with.

“So there’s no need for you to change,” he said, reassuring her with a gentle smile. “There’s no need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

So no matter what happens, he begged inside his heart of glass. Don't ever cry, Tohsaka.

-

Miyu the mini-Saber walked down the corridor gingerly, every step so light she might have been tiptoeing.

Her entire body was screaming in agony. Despite her prodigious athletic abilities, her muscles were so sore she was unsure if this body was even her own anymore.

“Miyu-sama,” Sapphire said worriedly. “Will you be alright?”

“I think so,” she replied. “If I just rest a little, I’ll be fine…”

To call it ‘sparring’ would have been appropriate, but not accurate. To call it training would be putting it lightly. Even if she had been holding back, Saber was not someone to be taken lightly. Had she not Installed the Saber card before, Miyu would have been pretty confident saying she was a Heroic Spirit of Spartan origins.

“To think Saber-sama would get so carried away,” Sapphire sighed. “It was a mistake on our part.”

“I think Ruby would share her enthusiasm,” Miyu commented. “Speaking of which, Sapphire, do you think there’s-”

The rest of her question remained unasked as she opened the door to the guest room. Originally, it was a room that she, Illya and Kuro shared. Right now, there was only one occupant sitting by herself in the corner of the room.

“… Kuro?” she called out.

The dark-skinned girl did not give her an answer, but the twitch when Miyu had called out to her was proof enough that she had heard her. Unable to tell what was going on but sensing that something was wrong, Miyu slowly approached the girl.

“Kuro, you’re bleeding!” she exclaimed, rushing over to the girl the moment she saw a small pool of blood around her. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Kuro said flatly, not even bothering to yank her hand out of Miyu’s grip. “I’m just a little low on mana right now, so I’ll be fine once I get replenished from Illya.”

“… That’s not all,” Miyu said. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Kuro denied. “Just leave me alone for a bit.”

Miyu hesitated. Kuro had always been the more straightforward of the three, speaking whatever came to mind and taking action whenever a thought took her fancy. She wore her heart on her sleeve, but even she surely had things she wanted to hide. It was only natural, but something was off.

“… Hey, Miyu,” she said suddenly. “How did your training with Saber go?”

“Eh? It… it went well,” Miyu replied, surprised at the sudden question.

“Is that so,” Kuro said. “Then, do you think you could beat me now?”

“What are you talking about, Kuro? Did something-”

“I asked you if you could kill me if we had to fight!” Kuro roared, turning to face her for the first time.

“W-what are you saying, Kuro?” Miyu gasped. “Why would I kill…”

“The Archer Card,” Kuro said, stopping Miyu’s words dead in their tracks. “It has a will of its own. It wants to kill onii-chan… kill Shirou. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And when that happens, I want you to use Rule Breaker on me. Given what I am, it’ll eradicate me without a trace.”

“What do you mean?” Miyu asked. Kuro’s injured hand, which was still tightly clasped in her own, was trembling. “I can’t understand what you’re saying, Kuro…”

“The Heroic Spirits have their own souls,” Kuro said. “And two minds can’t inhabit one body, especially not a body like mine which is tied to the Archer card. This body belongs to him, so there’s no fighting it.”

“Then you just have to fight him,” Miyu encouraged. “Don’t give up, Kuro!”

“How?” Kuro asked, her eyes glassy. “How can I fight the thing that’s keeping me anchored to this world? How can I fight when I’m just a bunch of suppressed memories without a soul of my own?!”

Miyu froze. More than the words that had just come out of Kuro’s mouth, more than the weakness in her words, she had been rendered speechless by Kuro’s face.

Kuro – that confident, carefree Kuro – was crying. For the first time since that night in the bath, she was actually shedding tears. Despite her tough front, she was openly showing her weakness.

“Hey, Miyu,” she said through the trails flowing down her cheeks. “What should I do…? What can I do…?”

She knew she should have said something to comfort her. She knew she should have tried to allay her fears. But as Miyu looked at pained expression on Kuro’s face, her chest tightened. When she looked at the sorrow etched across that once cheerful face, any and all words simply died in her throat.

You came here by your own will, so don’t vanish by your own will!

Perhaps it was for that reason that she chose not words, but actions instead.

Pulling Kuro’s hand with surprising force, Miyu threw Kuro off-balance and pulled her into a kiss. Unable to think of what to say, she simply acted on reflex, mimicking Illya’s actions from the night Kuro almost disappeared.

“W-what’re you doing?!” Kuro spluttered, pushing her away. It had been a minimal amount of contact, but she had definitely taken some of Miyu’s prana.

“… I don’t know enough about the Class Cards to deny what you said,” Miyu said slowly. “But I know that if you disappear, Illya will be sad. And… I’ll be sad, too. Don’t you remember what Illya said? She doesn’t want us to leave her alone. So don’t talk about dying or making me kill you, because I won’t do it!”

Kuro stared, unable to process her words. Taking advantage of the stunned silence, Miyu went on:

“No matter what happens, we won’t let you lose to the Class Card,” she promised. “We’re all here for you, so… So…!”

For a moment, no one spoke. For a few long seconds, neither girl said anything to the other. Miyu, no longer knowing what to say, merely looked away while Kuro, still too surprised to speak, had her mouth open with no sound coming out of it.

“K-Kuro?” Miyu said, as Kuro stood up without a word and headed towards the door.”

“Thanks, Miyu,” Kuro said, giving her a small smile. “I’ve calmed down thanks to you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left. Miyu made to follow after her, but her body refused to obey; for reasons she could not comprehend, she simply found herself unable to give chase after seeing that expression.

If her words had really calmed her down, she would have been glad. If she had been able to comfort Kuro, she would not have minded even if her body could not move. But there was nothing reassuring in that smile, and there was not a modicum of hope reflected in Kuro’s eyes.

In the deafening silence following her departure, Miyu thought she had heard Kuro’s voice whispering the words, I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

Illya sat on a bench in a park, watching the child in front of her play. She had places to be, people waiting for her, and was generally interested in staying alive – all valid reasons for leaving this place and going home. And yet, despite all those reasons, she stayed put on the bench without moving.

“… Hey,” she said at last.

“Hmm? What?” the child trying to balance herself on a balancing beam asked.

“Can you let me go now?” she asked. Her limbs were completely stiff, and no matter how hard she tried she could not make them move. She was completely frozen and there was nothing she could do about it.

It had all happened far too quickly; one moment, she was walking out of a department store, and the next moment every single cell in her body was robbed of their freedom. The magus responsible, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, then proceeded to utter a single sentence and all of a sudden her body moved on its own, following her directions without hesitation. In no more than a minute, she had rendered Illya powerless, bending the child to her every whim.

And now, here she was, sitting in an unfamiliar park like a mannequin. She supposed using Ruby to transform was also an option, but she did not like her odds in a battle against that Berserker of hers. In short, there was no escape route for her outside of somehow convincing the magus to let her go.

“Sure,” the girl, Illyasviel, replied. She was the splitting image of Illya, save for the difference in clothes. If a random person were to walk by right now, they would surely have confused them for being twins. If only they knew how terrifying she could be. “It’s a simple spell anyway. Just dispel it and you can go.”

“I can’t,” Illya explained. “I’m not a magus, so there’s no way for me to-”

“Even though you’re now a Master?” Illyasviel questioned. Even though her tone and expression had not changed, as she spoke those words her aura changed completely; in an instant, she became far more imposing than before, as though she was not the ten-year-old she appeared to be. It almost felt like she was actually older than Illya in that moment.

“T-that was an accident!” Illya exclaimed. “I really don’t know anything about magecraft!”

Illyasviel opened her mouth, likely in order to voice her disbelief, only to shut it without a word. She hated being lied to, and anyone who ever dared to try and lie to her would be pummeled into oblivion without mercy. She could have done that to the fake in front of her – and should have done it, too – but for some unknown reason she actually believed her words.

“I-I won’t run away,” Illya promised. “Even if I run, your Servant… c-can catch me in a second, right?”

“Berserker’s sleeping,” Illyasviel replied before she could help herself. “He’s not here. Though I could just call him here with a Command Seal if I want to. Or what; do you want him to be here so you can steal him from me like you did Lancer?”

“N-no!” Illya quickly denied. “I wouldn’t do something like that! T-though I guess I kind of did…”

“Hmm…” Illyasviel hummed, looking at her like she was some weird specimen (which, from her angle, was true enough).

“So could you please let me go?” Illya tried again, cycling through all the possible excuses in her head. “I… um… need to go pick some flowers.”

She was sure she heard Ruby do a ‘facepalm’ inside her hair.

“Flowers?” Illyasviel raised an eyebrow, her scarlet irises searching their immediate surroundings. “I don’t see any flowers.”

“I-it means I need to go to the bathroom!” Illya replied, going red in the face. Lame excuse aside, having to actually explain the expression was furthering her embarrassment.

“Huh? What do flowers and bathrooms have in common?” Illyasviel asked, looking genuinely confused.

“It’s a Japanese expression!” Illya exclaimed. She could not tell if the girl was really that dense or if she was just messing with her. Either way, the strange mature vibe emanating from her seemingly disappeared then, leaving behind a young girl who had Kuro’s attitude and Miyu’s lack of everyday knowledge. Sort of. “Shouldn’t you know this if you’re a proper lady?!”

“Proper ladies don’t need to be asked where they’re headed,” Illyasviel retorted. “They don’t need childish expressions, either. Besides, isn’t it enough to just say you want to go to the bathroom normally? Are you some little kid who gets embarrassed by something so trivial?”

She was getting needlessly worked up about a simple, inconsequential thing, and Illyasviel knew it. Despite that, against her better judgment, she refused to back down; there was an odd nagging in the back of her head telling her that she could not lose to this girl, whoever she was.

“Wha-” Illya stammered, unsure of how to respond to that. She even forgot about the state of paralysis she was in. “O-of course I’d be embarrassed! It’s normal for an elementary schoolgirl like me to be embarrassed over something like that!”

“I’m only fine with being naked during my Magical Girl transformation scenes for fan service,” Ruby whispered in her ears.

“I’m only fine with being naked during my Magical Girl-” Illya began, then stopped dead in her tracks. “What on earth are you making me say?!”

“… Magic?” Illyasviel echoed, completely ignoring the ‘getting naked’ part. “You expect me to believe that you’re capable of performing True Magic when you can’t even resist simple hypnosis?”

“True Magic?” Illya asked. “Is that any different from the magic Rin-san’s been using all this time?”

“… Don’t tell me,” Illyasviel was actually starting to look annoyed. “You don’t even know the difference between Magic and magecraft?”

“… Eh?” Illya blinked once. Twice. If she could move her head, she would have tilted it to one side. “There’s a difference?”

“… I’ve changed my mind,” Illyasviel declared, creating a moving, glowing bird from a strand of her hair. “I’ll kill you now.”

“W-w-wait!” Illya yelled in panic. “I-I don’t know what’s the problem here but calm down! M-Masters aren’t allowed to fight in the daytime right?!”

“There’re no people here, so it’s fine,” Illyasviel replied calmly. “Besides, even if someone does come along, I can just make them forget.”

She’s serious, Illya thought, unable to look away from the horror in front of her. She’s really going to kill me.

“… You’re doing it again.”

Instead of sending the bird forward, Illyasviel instead returned it back to a single strand of hair, disappearing as abruptly as it had been summoned. Glaring at the petrified Illya, her murderous intent did die down a little, but there was still enough of it left for her to call out her Berserker.

“… Huh?” Illya asked, her mind completely blank.

“You were making that face again,” Illyasviel clarified. “When Berserker was chasing you that night, when you tried to make me stop Berserker from killing Saber… and now. You were making that face. Why?”

“Why…?” Illya echoed. “Isn’t it normal to be scared of being hurt or of dying…?”

“… ‘Normal’, huh,” Illyasviel mused. She did not add on to that comment, but there was something in her tone that made it difficult for Illya to just ignore it.

The Holy Grail War.

Even though she was not physically there, Kuro’s voice rang loudly in her ears. There was something in that voice that reminded Illya of Kuro, as though Illyasviel too rejected the idea of being ‘normal’. And yet, there was something about this girl that was… different.

Illya and I were created for the sake of that grant ritual.

“Um…” she muttered, the terrible possibility she had been trying to ignore until now resurfacing in her head. “You… Are you…”

The Einzbern are no more. So there won’t be another Holy Grail War.

“Were you created… for this Holy Grail War?”

“What’re you talking about?” Illyasviel asked.

For a brief moment, Illya entertained a vague hope that she was wrong. Perhaps, even with the happening of a Grail War, there was a possibility that-

“Of course I am.”

There was no despair in her voice. There was no will to fight back against the reality of her words. All there was in her voice, was simple resignation to her fate.

Like Illya and Kuro, she was created to be a part of the Holy Grail War. However, unlike either of them, she was actually being thrown into the very thing they were kept away from. There was no desire for a normal life like Kuro, nor was there a hint of wanting to return to something she once had like Illya.

She had nothing else besides this war, and she had nowhere to return to.

“What’s with the response?” Illyasviel asked. “If you want to make stupid expressions, I’d appreciate it if you did it with a different face.”

Illya offered her no reply. For a moment, Illyasviel wondered if her spell had somehow frozen her mouth as well. Instead of undoing the spell, however, she merely continued to observe the little girl. Under normal circumstances, she would have already gotten bored of her at this point, but there was still something about her that was still interesting.

“… Hey,” she said at last. “You said something weird the last time we met, didn’t you? Something about being from another world?”

There was no way she could believe something like that. After living her life up till this point, there was no way she could entertain something like that as a possibility. Yet, inexplicably, Illyasviel could not stop the words pouring from her lips.

“… Yeah,” Illya replied, trying and failing to nod. “I-I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true! I don’t know how it happened, but-”

“Was there a Holy Grail War in your world?”

“… Eh?” Illya blinked a few times in confusion, unable to immediately process the question. “Y-yes, there was, b-but…”

“But?” Illyasviel’s tone was harsh, sharp. For the first time since their encounter, it felt like she was actually impatient to hear a response.

“But…” Illya hesitated for a few seconds. It was just a few seconds, but it took several hours for them to crawl by. “But Mama and Papa… put an end to it.”

“… What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Our – that is, Kuro and my – mother and father ended the war, so that we wouldn’t have to fight,” Illya explained. Even though it was the truth, and even though she had nothing to hide, the words burned like acid on her tongue. “So… the Holy Grail War… didn’t happen.”

“… Is that so.”

“T-that’s why there’s no need for us to fight,” Illya tried. “If it’s possible for us, we’ll be able to find a way to end the War without having to fight here too! There’s no need for anyone to get hurt-”

“So in that world, Kiritsugu chose you.”

The moment she heard those words, Illya froze. It was not a matter of being bound by magecraft; her entire being was constricted by the sheer weight of those words.

“… Huh?” was all she could manage.

“Let me ask you something,” Illyasviel said, her expression unchanging. “If I stop fighting in this Holy Grail War, where can I go?”

“That… That’s…”

“This is my battle,” Illyasviel said. The moment she uttered those words, something inside her gaze changed. Even if she was just a kid, Illya could tell that at that moment, something in her eyes disappeared, as though a switch had been flipped behind her scarlet irises. “This Holy Grail War is everything I have. If I lose that, what will I be left with?”

She had no need to ask those questions. She had no need to speak anymore to a worthless fake with no answers, but she did. Without a logical reason behind her actions, Illyasviel continued to open her mouth, as though the act of moving her lips would reject the object placed in front of her.

As if she could erase the words she had just heard.

“… I came here to make him pay,” she said. “That’s why, so long as you didn’t get in my way, I wouldn’t have had a reason to kill you. But now… Even if you give up on becoming a Master, I will kill you.”

“W-why?” Illya asked timidly. Any and all thoughts about the girl in front of her being a child her age disappeared entirely, replaced with nothing but fear – fear that the merciless woman before her would really end her life. “You don’t have to do this! I’ve lived my life without the Holy Grail War! I was cared for and loved by my family and friends, so it’s possible for-”

There was nothing but sincerity in her words. There was nothing but steadfast belief in her eyes. It was a child’s way of thinking – believing that anything was possible, even if it was not backed by sound evidence or logic. It was a trait so innocent it was pure, and was surely something worth protecting.

“That’s exactly it.”

And yet, it was that innocence which prevented her from understanding that woman.

“That’s exactly why I must kill you,” Illyasviel said, her expression stoic. “You’re living proof that what I went through didn’t have to be my reality.”

I don’t need such a possibility.

“Your life is evidence that he – that they – could have chosen me instead of leaving me alone.”

Even if that possibility exists, I don’t want to know about it.

“Your existence is proof that you had one to call your own.”

Her expression had not changed. Her voice was no different from before, and yet her words stung Illya’s chest. She could not understand the meaning behind her words, so why did they hurt so much just listening to her speak?

“… I don’t have much longer left to live,” Illyasviel said, her lips curving to form the slightest of smiles. It was almost as if she pitied someone, but Illya had no idea who exactly she was pitying. “Do you understand? A world where Kiritsugu abandoned everything for me… I don’t want to believe in it.

“That’s why, don’t make me see a dream like that before I die.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She wanted to look away, but her eyes did not respond. Countless thoughts swarmed her head, but not a single one was clear; even though it was only a normal-looking smile, the mere sight of it had rendered everything pointless.

My… existence…

“Brat!”

A flash of blue entered her vision, blocking off her view of the girl. In her place was the back of a familiar man – a man with a crimson spear in his hands.

“Lancer… san…” she said, her voice sounding strange even to herself.

“You okay, brat?” he asked. “I came running when I got the message. Looks like I was just in time.”

He released the object in his hands. Illya recognized it as Sapphire, Ruby’s twin and a Mystic Code capable of communicating with her using one of their many functions. Ruby must have called them her via Sapphire when she sensed the danger.

“Yo, ojou-chan,” she heard Lancer say. “I’m not sensing that Berserker around. If you’re not here for a fight, do ya mind withdrawing?”

“… Fine,” Illyasviel replied. “We’re not allowed to fight in public during the day anyway.”

The scratchy sensation of wood greeted her palms, and the familiar warmth of her clothes returned to her body. It took a few moments for that information to register, but when it did she realized she could move her body again.

“Wait!” she called out before she could stop herself, rushing past Lancer and stopping dead in her tracks at the look on her face.

She was smiling, but this time the smile was wide. She looked happy, like the carefree girl she appeared to be, and as she wore that radiant, childlike smile on her face—

“Goodbye! I saw a nice dream thanks to you!”

—she said those distant words.

“Oh, that’s right,” she added, turning her back on Illya and walking away. “The next time we meet, we’ll be proper enemies, so I’ll kill you then, onee-chan.”

Leaving behind those words, the tiny girl disappeared into the distance, swallowed up by the scenery around them. She was gone, but the ghostly echoes of her voice remained stagnant in the air.

“… Hey, you alright, br-” Lancer began. “Oi, what’s wrong? You hurt or something?”

“I’m fine, Lancer-san,” Illya replied. “I’m fine, but… but…”

She could not rid those words from her memory. She could not forget the pain in her voice. But more than anything, she could not forget the smile she had on her face. The smile that, contrary to what it displayed, was anything but an expression of joy.

“But the tears… just won’t stop…”

She brought her trembling fingers to her eyes, but that did not stop the tears. She tried to stifle her own voice, but she could not help but whimper. Her chest was tight, her lungs constricted, and she knew it had nothing to do with magecraft.

The playground was silent, except for the quiet sobs of a little girl. The air around her was devoid of sound, allowing her powerless voice to fill the space.

All alone in an unforgiving world, Illyasviel von Einzbern cried.

Chapter Text

Illyasviel walked aimlessly, her destination unknown even to herself. There was only one place she could head to right now, but even that castle in the forest no longer felt like home.

It was a base set up for Einzbern Masters, deep inside the forest in the outskirts of Fuyuki. It served no other purpose outside of the Holy Grail War, so naturally it did not have a welcoming feel to it. It was simply not built with hospitality in mind.

But to Illyasviel, it was more of a home than the castle in Germany could ever be.

Compared to the castle surrounded by unforgiving winter, this one did not try to confine her. Sella and Liz did, but it was not like they had authority over her like Grandfather did. The Fuyuki castle was no prison, leaving her free to explore the outside world as much as she wanted. It was a far cry from the callous structure she had been born in, which made her wish she could just stay here forever. Or at least, it had at first; now, even the Fuyuki castle felt foreboding and hostile.

And it was all because of a fake’s words.

Deep down, Illyasviel knew why she hated that castle in Germany; in that place, she had spent time with him – the man who had claimed to love her.

Can you wait for me, Illya?

She recalled his warmth, embracing her petite body and protecting her from the cold. He had held her close, almost as if he was afraid she would be snatched away.

Even if you’re lonely, can you hold on until I come home?

She remembered the genuine-sounding words he had said. He sounded like he had cared – truly cared – about her, and she had believed him.

Then Daddy will promise you.

“Liar…”

I’ll come home straight away.

As he embraced her amidst the falling snow, Emiya Kiritsugu had told her that lie.

Illyasviel had left for Fuyuki to participate in the Holy Grail War, but a part of her had left to escape those memories. To escape the lies she had believed for so long. To escape the lies that had broken her.

A world where Kiritsugu abandoned everything for me… I don’t want to believe in it.

Those had been her words in the face of a possibility she had rejected. Those had been her honest thoughts, unwilling to acknowledge that her suffering did not have to be. But now, those were the words that held her heart in a cold, unforgiving grip.

She did not need that possibility. Even if it existed, she did not want to know about it. But now that she did know about it, Illyasviel found herself unable (or quite possibly unwilling) to reject it.

It was a denial of her existence. It was a denial of her suffering. And yet, at the same time, it was an affirmation of his words. His promise.

His love.

The prison she had escaped from was not her home; the Fuyuki castle was way more befitting of the term. She knew this – accepted it as fact, even – and yet was swayed by the words of a child who looked like her. With just a few simple sentences, she had made Illyasviel long for the dreaded castle in the snow. The awful prison where Kiritsugu had left her forever.

Why? She asked herself in her head, screaming against the torrent of fond but painful memories. Why am I longing for that place now?

In a blunt, straightforward tone, almost as if scolding herself, Illyasviel answered her own question:

I want to go home.

She had denied his words, not his warmth. She had despised his lies, but not his love. She had ignored those happy memories, but she could not bring herself to forget about them.

In the end, she merely wanted to go home. She wanted nothing more than to return to those happy memories, to dive back into her father’s warm embrace before setting off to search for walnut buds. Even if it was a dream, she simply wanted to relive that happiness again.

More than anyone else, she wanted to believe that girl’s – that Illya’s – words. Even if she could not accept what that meant. Even if acknowledging that possibility meant denying her own existence, Illyasviel could not help but want to believe it.

“… Berserker.”

Within mere seconds of her uttering his name, the invincible bronze giant manifested himself before her. He did not move nor speak, merely waiting for his Master’s commands.

“Hey, Berserker,” she muttered, putting a hand on his iron-like skin. “What should I do?”

The giant did not reply. That was the norm, of course, but it did not matter right then.

“… You’ll always stay by my side, right?” Illyasviel asked, a sad smile parting her lips. “No matter what happens, you’ll protect me forever, right?”

Berserker remained silent. Even in the absence of words, much was conveyed with uncanny clarity.

“That’s right,” Illyasviel said, more to herself than anyone else. “Berserker is strong, so we’ll never be separated. You won’t leave me alone no matter what, and you won’t lie to me. I’ll be fine as long as I have you, Berserker.”

She bit back on the rest of her thoughts. She shut out the reality of the situation at that point, unwilling to let her sole mental pillar collapse.

Berserk was, amongst everything else, a Servant. A Heroic Spirit summoned forth by the power of the Holy Grail. Upon the War’s conclusion, even the final remaining Servant – which could only be Berserker – would disappear. Regardless of how loyal or powerful he was, Berserker would not be able to stay with her till the end. And that was assuming Illyasviel herself would even be alive at that point.

Shaking those horrible but inevitable truths from her mind, Illyasivel let her Servant lift her up and set her on his shoulder. He was not bothered by her weight in the least, and would never tire of carrying around the little princess – a display of strength Kiritsugu once demonstrated as well. Putting her arms around his neck, the Master of the Einzberns held on to her invincible – and only – protector.

“Take me home, Berserker.”

The giant moved upon receiving that order, carrying the child towards the only place he could possibly bring her to. Illyasviel did not correct him, nor did she change her words; after all, she herself no longer knew where her ‘home’ really was.

That day, she held on to Berserker tighter than she usually did.

-

Illya stopped outside the Emiya household, her Servant in blue following closely behind her. Lancer had opted to stay in corporeal form on the way home, and she had not said anything against it. In fact, she had not spoken at all throughout the journey.

“… We’ve reached,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Lancer-san, but I’ll be fine.”

“Hey, brat-” Lancer stopped himself before saying anything else. He did not even know what had happened earlier in the park, so there were no words he could say to her just then. “… If you need anything, just give me a holler.”

“I understand,” Illya nodded. There was not a modicum of energy in her voice. “Thank you.”

Unable to say anything else, Lancer disappeared from sight, lingering in his spiritual form. Truth be told, after the girl had almost died due to his negligence, he would have wanted to stay in corporeal form all the time just in case of another sneak attack. However, there were other people in the Emiya residence at the moment, and further confusion was not what they needed right now.

“Oh, welcome back, Illya-chan!”

Peeking out from the living room, Matou Sakura greeted with a warm smile.

“I-I’m home,” Illya greeted awkwardly, scrambling to remember the name of the girl she had met not too long ago. “It’s nice to see you, Sakura-san.”

“I’m making dinner right now,” Sakura said cheerfully. Illya had never seen someone so happy to be cooking, except for maybe her onii-chan. Just thinking about it made her feel even worse about her current situation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you went out to buy groceries, so I bought some on my way here.”

“O-oh, I see,” Illya stammered, hiding her empty hands behind her back. “I’m sorry, I… I lost the money on my way to the department store, so I… couldn’t buy anything…”

Keeping her gaze directed at the floor, Illya stood unmoving at the doorway. She knew that she had to act natural so as to avoid arousing suspicion, but her body refused to comply; her lips would not move to form another lie, and her hands would not stop shaking. She was supposed to act natural, but how on earth could she after something like that?

You’re living proof that what I went through didn’t have to be my reality.

“… Illya-chan?” Sakura jogged over to the girl and kneeled down to meet her eyes. “Is something the matter?”

“N-no,” Illya lied. If she had been a poor liar before, that Unique Skill had just gone up a rank. “I… I was just upset I lost the money, that’s all…”

“… I see,” Sakura replied, a knowing smile blossoming on her face. “I won’t pry into it, but if you are troubled by anything else, you can always talk to onee-chan, okay?”

“Sakura-san…” Illya was finding it increasingly difficult to look at the older girl when she was smiling like that. The guilt of lying was already eating away at her conscience, but seeing Sakura give her that gentle expression despite knowing it was a lie only made things worse. “I… I…”

In the face of what might have been a confession, Matou Sakura simply shook her head.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to force yourself to tell me.”

Illya knew she was not exactly the best liar around, but it was embarrassing how easy Sakura was reading her. She had not known a Matou Sakura back in her world, but if she was as nice a person as this girl was, she probably would not have minded her being around onii-chan. Much.

“I’m sorry,” she said instead. She had already lost count of the number of times she apologized that day. “It’s just… I don’t know what to say… Or how to say it…”

“It’s alright,” Sakura assured her. “Just take your time. I know I’m not the one you want to talk to, so you don’t have to tell me.”

“N-no, it’s not that,” Illya protested. “I-I have nothing against you, Sakura-san…”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Sakura replied, a little surprised by the girl’s response. “I’m not blaming you; I just meant that my words won’t be as helpful to you as Senpai’s, Kuro-chan’s or Miyu-chan’s, so I won’t be able to reduce your burden like they can.”

“T-that’s not true,” Illya said, even though she could not think of a convincing rebuttal. “I-I just need some time…”

Realizing that she was just repeating what Sakura had told her before, Illya clamped her mouth shut, trying to save herself further embarrassment. Instead of laughing, Sakura leaned in a little closer and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Just don’t keep it to yourself,” she told the tiny girl. “It’ll only hurt more if you keep it all bottled up. Even if you don’t want to trouble other people, there are times you have to rely on someone else.”

They were simple, straightforward words. It was a simple piece of advice, much like something an elder sister would say to her younger sibling. There wasn’t anything special in her words, but the way Matou Sakura had said those words made Illya tear her eyes away from the floor.

So in that world, Kiritsugu chose you.

That girl – Illyasviel – had been addressing Illya, but she was in fact talking about herself. It might have been because of that encounter earlier, but it made Illya think that Sakura was speaking about herself with her own advice right then.

“… H-how could you tell…?” Illya asked, unable to help herself. “T-that I was, um…”

For a few seconds, Sakura did not reply. When she finally did, however, she replied with the warm smile she always wore on her face:

“That’s because… I know what it’s like to carry such a burden all by yourself, after all.”

Why?

“Keep this a secret from Senpai, okay?” she asked, putting a finger to her lips like a child.

She was smiling. There was something in her eyes, her tone that told a different story, but she was smiling. Even though she was surely holding back painful memories, she managed a cheerful expression.

Exactly like what Illyasviel had done.

Why does everyone in this world… smile when they’re hurting inside?

“Oh, it’s almost time for dinner,” Sakura said, getting to her feet. “Let’s go, Illya-chan!”

Her chest hurt. The more she saw that beautiful smile, the more Illya’s chest felt like it was being crushed. The more she listened to her kind, gentle words, the more she was forced to remember that girl’s parting words:

I saw a nice dream thanks to you!

Jovial words despite a broken heart. Cheerful masks despite a fragile soul. Illyasviel von Einzbern – the Master of Berserker – and Matou Sakura were far better liars than Illya was, and their actions both enraged and confused her in equal measure.

Before she had been roped into the world of magic and Class Cards, Illya had been a normal, everyday girl. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and she believed that if she was earnest with everyone, they would do the same to her. She lived a child’s life – carefree, naïve and open with her emotions.

When she was happy, she laughed. When she was sad, she cried. She could not understand why anyone would want to hide their true feelings, instead putting on a mask to deceive everyone else. It was an act that felt like they were lying to themselves – a deception akin to killing their own emotions. It was an act she would never understand, and it was something that hurt her far worse than she thought it would.

Just as Sakura turned to head back to the kitchen, Illya remained at the doorstep, her body refusing to take a single step after her. There was something hot searing her cheeks again, but this time she did not reach to wipe them away.

“… Ruby,” she mumbled. “Why do people lie about their feelings?”

“… That’s probably because they’re afraid, I think,” Ruby replied, tactful enough to not make any jokes just then. “Even if it’s not quite the same, you’ve also hidden your feelings towards your brother, right Illya-san? Maybe humans just tend to be afraid of letting others know how they really feel.”

“Do you think she’s afraid too?” Illya asked. She did not clarify, but Ruby probably understood.

“Shall I show it to you?”

“… Huh?” Illya asked, confused by the unexpected response.”

“We Kaleidosticks have an additional ability,” Ruby explained. “Beyond providing the wielder with vast amounts of mana, we can also ‘download’ and transfer knowledge from an alternate version of the current wielder into their mind. It’s a feat made possible only by the annoying geezer who created us.”

“Then… I can… see what she experienced?” Illya asked.

“Theoretically, yes,” Ruby replied. “But Illya-san, after all the things the other Illya-san said, are you sure you want to?”

Illya paused. She wanted to say ‘yes’, but there was a part of her that simply refused to give that reply. As much as she wanted to know the truth, she was – as a ten-year-old should be – too afraid to take that step.

“… We still have time before the raid on Ryuudou Temple,” Ruby reminded her. “Please take your time and think it through before making your decision, Illya-san.”

She heard those words. She understood what Ruby meant, but Illya was unable to give her a reply.

So in that world, Kiritsugu chose you.

A world where her father abandoned her. A world where she had been left alone, forced into a battle where she had to kill her own brother. A world where she – where the girl known as Illyasviel von Einzbern – was unable to smile from the bottom of her heart. Just as her counterpart had refused Illya’s existence, Illya found herself unwilling to face Illyasviel’s reality.

For the second time since she arrived in this world, the Emiya Residence no longer felt like home.

-

Dinner was, if anything, an extremely awkward affair. Miyu and Saber were a given, but hardly anyone else said a word throughout; Illya and Kuro hardly even paid attention to their food, and Shirou could hardly move his chopsticks properly half the time. Something was clearly amiss – a fact that seemed to escape Fujimura Taiga’s notice.

Sakura, being tactful enough to read the mood, did not say anything about it. Everyone around her was hiding something, but it was not as if she could blame them; she too had been deceiving Shirou – the person she cared for more than anyone else – so she had no right to ask them what they were not telling her. Like she had told Illya before, she could only wait until they were ready to let her know-

You don’t care about them.

A fleeting thought. A voice that was not her own invaded her mind, leaving behind that single accusation.

You only care about-

“Sakura?”

“E-eh?” Sakura jumped, almost dropping the dish in her hands. “W-what’s the matter, Senpai?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Shirou replied, clumsily washing the plates. “I’m just really grateful for your help today. I was supposed to help, but I ended up letting you do everything…”

“It’s alright,” Sakura replied. “You were exhausted from playing with Kuro-chan, right? It couldn’t be helped.”

“A-ah, yeah,” Shirou stammered. He had neglected to mention that ‘playing’ with the girl had almost cost him his life, but it was probably for the best. “S-she’s really energetic.”

“You’re family after all,” Sakura giggled. “Back then, Senpai too…”

“Hmm? Did you say something?”

“O-oh, it’s nothing!” Sakura denied, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. “B-besides, Senpai never lets me handle the cooking alone, so I finally got the kitchen all to myself today. I’m one step closer to taking over as head chef, so I’m actually really happy!”

“Ugh, when you put it like that…” Shirou mock-groaned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taught you so much…”

“It’s already too late, Senpai,” Sakura said triumphantly, putting away the last dish. “This student is already going to overtake her teacher!”

Despite everything that happened earlier, Shirou smiled. He had known Sakura for years, and had grown accustomed to seeing her around the house every other day. Much like Fuji-nee, Sakura was effectively family, with a major difference being she was not a freeloader.

And, of course, the fact that she was a year younger than he was.

Unlike Fuji-nee, who acted like a childish elder sister, Sakura was… different. She was supposed to be just a kouhai from school and someone that Shirou cared for like a member of the family, but the young man was finding it increasingly difficult to do just that.

Well, Sakura’s at the age to be falling in love, he thought. I wonder if she already has- w-wait, what am I thinking?

“I’ll be on my way now, Senpai,” Sakura said, slipping on her shoes. “Please don’t fall asleep in the storehouse like last time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Shirou replied sheepishly. “Say, where’s Fuji-nee? I didn’t see her around.”

“I think Fujimura-sensei said something about wanting to talk to the girls,” Sakura said. “She said something about a date.”

“Well, whatever,” Shirou sighed. “I’ll walk you home. It’s not safe around here lately, after all.”

“I appreciate the offer, Senpai, but not today,” Sakura said with a light shake of her head. “I think it’s best if you go and talk to Illya-chan instead; she seemed pretty troubled today, so she could really use your company.”

“Illya was troubled?” Shirou asked. “I thought she was just tired from…running out to buy groceries.”

“She’s trying her hardest not to worry you,” Sakura said, smiling gently. “But she’s surely hoping for you to comfort her. I know because I’m a younger sister, too.”

“… Hey, does that mean you’re comparing me to Shinji?” Shirou asked with mock anger.

“Eh?” Sakura looked surprised for a few seconds, as though his answer had been unexpected. “N-no, that wasn’t what I meant! I wasn’t comparing Senpai to Nii-san; I was… w-well, you’re both big brothers, so I suppose there’re some similarities…”

“Ouch,” Shirou groaned. “That one hurt.”

“I was praising you, Senpai,” Sakura corrected with a laugh. Compared to how she was when he first met her, she was a lot more cheerful now – a detail that tended to make Shirou’s cheeks uncomfortably warm. “Nii-san is actually quite nice to me. He’s not good with showing it, I think he admires you, Senpai.”

“I wonder…” Shirou muttered.

“Well then, I’ll be going,” Sakura said, stepping out of the door. “Good night, Senpai.”

Waving goodbye to the kouhai as she closed the door behind her, Shirou stood where he was for a few seconds without moving. He had not been putting much thought into it before, but after being reminded by Sakura, he was reminded once again of the odd situation he was in.

“An elder sibling, huh,” he muttered.

-

“Let’s go on a date tomorrow!”

Unsure of how to respond to that, Illya just blinked a few times in confusion. Sitting close to her, Kuro, Miyu and Saber shared the same reaction at the sudden suggestion.

“Um… Fujimura-sensei,” she said at last, having finally found her voice. “What do you mean?”

“You see, there’s this place I want to take you girls to,” Taiga replied. “And there’s someone you absolutely have to meet there.”

“Uh, well…” Illya mumbled. “W-we’re not exactly ‘free’ tomorrow…”

“Where would we be going anyway?” Kuro asked. “We’re not interested in amusement parks or playgrounds, you know.”

“Oh, it’s not like that!” Taiga said, missing Illya’s flinch at the word ‘playgrounds’. Then, with her usual goofy grin dropping a few degrees, she went on: “We’re not really going to play.”

“Then-”

“We’re going to see Kiritsugu-san.”

Chapter Text

“… How sure are you about this?”

Irisviel winced. As someone who had spent her entire life with him, she knew the man called Emiya Kiritsugu better than anyone else. Even if her understanding of him was superficial, she was still capable of telling what was on his mind. And right then, it meant knowing just how much he was hurting when he had said those words.

“We… have nothing concrete,” Iri replied, every word like bile forcing its way through her throat. “It’s almost entirely one big hypothesis at this point. Tohsaka-san and Edelfelt-san don’t know enough to make that connection just yet, but… I don’t think there can be another explanation…”

“I see,” Kiritsugu said. His tone was the same as it always was, but his trembling fists gave him away. “Is there… really no other way?”

There was genuine hope in his voice, but it was being smothered by an even stronger tone of resignation. Nonetheless, it did not stop the Magus Killer from asking that question.

“I… don’t know,” Iri replied. It was an answer she hated to give, but it was the only answer she had. “It’d be great if there was, but…”

She trailed off, leaving the rest of her sentence unsaid. She knew that he understood regardless, but she also knew he would do all he could to deny it.

The plan had its risks. Terrible risks that no sane person would take. Risks that the Magus Killer would never allow to be a part of his plan. But those were risks they had to take in order to save their daughter.

They did not have the time to talk about it. They did not have the luxury of sitting around coming up with other plans. They were completely powerless, unable to change their situation in the least, despite being the people who had ended a millennia-long dream.

“Don’t worry, Kiritsugu,” Iri said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to bring Illya back safe and sound.”

“… It’s my fault,” Kiritsugu muttered. “If I hadn’t abandoned the Holy Grail War back then… If I had won, I would have…”

The space around them froze at those words, bringing with it an eerily familiar chill that Iri had only ever felt within the walls of the Einzbern castle. Kiritsugu’s words, as well as the vulnerability reflected in his eyes, made the dreadful image return to her mind’s eye.

The raging snowstorm beyond the window, the pristine white walls sealing her fate, the crushing pain tearing at her chest. Those were the things she had hoped to forget, but Irisviel could not rid that wretched memory no matter how hard she tried. It was an excruciating moment for her, so it went without saying that Kiritsugu must have hurt much more. That was the day the Holy Grail War finally ended, and the day the Magus Killer threw away his dream of world salvation.

That was the day the hero of justice threw away everything that defined him, just for the happiness of his wife and child. That was the day he had turned a deaf ear to all the screams reverberating across the world, ignoring their pleas for help only to hear the cries of his child. It was a decision made not by a magus, nor by a hero – it was a decision made by a mere man. A man who was now lamenting the choice he had made back then.

“That’s not true, Kiritsugu,” Iri said firmly. “You chose us and chose to give us happiness. I’m grateful for that, and it’s thanks to your choice that Illya was able to live like a normal child. There’s nothing wrong with what you chose to protect, so you don’t have to blame yourself.”

She did not truly understand this man. No matter how hard she tried, she could never hope to fully understand the man known as Emiya Kiritsugu. She was simply made that way.

“I…” Kiritsugu whispered, his voice shaky. This man had once taken the lives of countless dangerous magi, but the current look on his face reflected none of that ruthlessness. He was, in that moment, nothing more than a normal person. A normal father who had given up on his lifelong dream for the sake of his family. “I don’t want… to lose your or Illya. I won’t.”

Even so, she loved this man. This was the person who had opened up his heart to her – a vessel that by no definition could be considered ‘human’. This was the man who had, in the face of six billion other people, chosen to protect two. This man, abandoning the possibility of world salvation, had chosen her. There was no way she could grasp the logic behind that choice, and the only conclusion Irisviel could draw from it was:

To him, her life and her daughter’s weighed more than the entire world.

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I have to go, Kiritsugu. I’ll be back right away, so don’t worry.”

That was why, for the sake of the family they cherished, she could not let anything get in her way. Even if it meant confronting another Holy Grail, she would protect the world Emiya Kiritsugu chose to protect.

“I promise, I’ll bring our daughter back safe and sound.”

-

Tohsaka Rin placed a gem on the ground, and paused.

She was hesitating, but it was not because she was afraid of wasting her gems. They had decided to go through with the plan, so there was no backing out at this point.

“I don’t even have to ask to know what’s on your mind.”

“… Luvia,” Rin said, turning to face her employer as well as rival. “What do you make of this situation?”

“Well,” Luvia sighed. “I never really thought about it at first, but now when I stop and consider it… it’s all just too absurd. Even so, we have no choice but to just accept it, right?”

“I guess,” Rin replied reluctantly. “Let’s just hope Irisviel-san’s right about this… though I guess it’ll be better if she’s wrong…”

Luvia said nothing, but Rin knew she agreed. As much as they wanted to rescue Illya and the rest, they also wished that the girl’s mother was wrong about this situation.

According to their hypothesis, the Mirror World was a plane connecting parallel worlds. The Class Cards, which belonged to a Holy Grail War of another world, were simply things that had ended up there somehow. And within that space, another world’s Holy Grail had managed to ‘taint’ them, causing them to become the corrupted Heroic Spirits Illya and gang battled in their attempts to retrieve the cards.

“Of course, it could all be done by the same Grail that summoned those Cards,” Irisviel had said. “But if that was the case, the cards wouldn’t just go back to normal once the Servants were defeated. The presence of an eighth Class also makes it likely that another Holy Grail itself is involved. And with regards to that eighth card… you mentioned it absorbed so much mana that it caused disruptions to occur all over Fuyuki? Something like that shouldn’t be possible no matter how powerful the Servant, since they’re bound by their container and more importantly, by this Mirror World which they manifest in.

“However, if we assume that these disruptions were caused by a corrupt Holy Grail,” she paused, a haunted look in her usually gentle eyes. “Then it’s likely that the Grail itself pulled Illya and the others over when they… Jumped. Illya… is the vessel of the Holy Grail. If the Grail is trying to complete itself, then it needs a medium. I don’t know what happened to the vessel of that parallel world, but if the Grail is trying to manifest itself or… give birth to whatever corruption’s inside it... without absorbing the Servants, then it could have tried to use Illya and Kuro to make up for it. In any case, it’s definitely no coincidence that Illya was the only one who disappeared back then, even with Tohsaka-san next to her.”

“But what about Miyu and Bazett?” Rin had asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” had been Iri’s reply. “They might be connected to the Holy Grail somehow, be it in this world or in the other parallel world. But if that’s the case, there is a way for us to get them back.”

Rin stared at the elaborate Magic Circle beneath her feet. With her and Luvia’s combined efforts, they had managed to read enough gems to substitute for over ten mages’ worth of prana. All that was left was to activate the spell – which they had set up at the same place the Eighth Card used to be – and allow Irisviel to Jump over to the Mirror World.

“I’m also a vessel for the Holy Grail,” she had announced. “Strictly speaking, I should take precedence over Illya as the conduit. If the source of the distortion pulled Illya over, it should take me as well. As for coming back here…”

That was when the plan took a turn for the worse. If what she had said before was not absurd enough, the words that had come out of Irisviel’s mouth after that certainly were.

Activate the ritual for the Holy Grail at the heart of Mount Enzo.

Even if they did not know why, Rin and Luvia knew that the Einzberns had gone quiet for the past ten years. However, despite the research she had done, Rin had been unable to find a link between the Einzberns and the Holy Grail War.

The Einzberns are no more, so there won’t be another Holy Grail War.

And now, the only person who knew anything about the situation was telling them to do something nigh impossible.

That means Illya and I are the only remaining vessels. Once the ritual is activated, the Holy Grail on this side will pull us over just like the other one had. Once we Jump from that side, we should come back here.

It was a plan only madmen would agree to. And yet, here they were, acting upon those absurd demands. As much as Rin knew that they were in position to be picky about their methods. Skilled magi or not, she and Luvia were simply unable to deal with the situation alone.

“… Hey, Luvia,” Rin muttered. “If… I hadn’t dragged Illya into this in the beginning, do you think she’d be… just living a normal life right now, without all this danger?”

“What are you saying, Tohsaka Rin?” Luvia asked. “This was a choice you made and stuck to because you believed in Illyasviel, was it not? You chose to believe in her, but now you regret the results of that faith?”

“… Faith, huh…”

“Believe in them,” Luvia said. “Believe that you made the right choice, and in their strength. After all, having second thoughts about her actions isn’t the way for the proud Tohsaka Rin, is it?”

“… For once, you’re right,” Rin replied, managing a small smile. “I see coming to Japan has made you wiser.”

Just hold on a little longer, everyone, she prayed inside her head. We’re going to get you home soon.

-

Illya walked silently, following after the cheerful gait that belonged to Fujimura Taiga. Right next to her were Miyu and Kuro, equally silent and (for some reason) brooding.

“What’s wrong, gals?” Taiga asked. “Why the long faces?”

“It’s nothing,” Miyu replied, her voice softer than usual. “We’ve just been out of touch with Ki- with Uncle for so long, and… W-we’re just not adequately prepared, mentally…”

“I see,” Taiga said, her tone surprisingly gentle. At that moment, it was almost difficult to believe that this person was the same hyperactive, childish teacher who had taught Illya in school. “It’s only natural, I suppose… Maybe that’s why Shirou doesn’t come here often either…”

“Eh?” Illya squeaked. “Shir- O-onii-chan doesn’t come here often?”

“Yup,” Taiga replied. “After Kiritsugu-san left us, Shirou… changed. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit that Kiritsugu-san was gone… He really looked up to him, after all.”

Looked up to him. The Emiya Shirou of this world – the splitting image of her brother – had idolized Emiya Kiritsugu. The boy with those terror-stricken eyes had once extolled his father. Even though he acted like the same onii-chan she loved, Illya had not thought of him as someone capable of those emotions; ever since she saw that haunted look in his eyes at Kotomine’s church, she knew that this Emiya Shirou was worlds apart from the one she loved. He carried a weight too great for his shoulders, and above all else just felt… broken beyond repair.

But even a person like him had someone he admired. Someone he looked up to. Someone who had – according to his daughter in this world – tossed aside the family he supposedly loved.

“Well, here we are.”

Even though she had expected it, Illya still found her chest constricting at the sight of her ‘father’. Despite it being nothing but a tombstone with his name carved on it, she could not keep her eyes from burning up, nor her vision from going blurry.

“It’s been a while, Kiritsugu-san,” Taiga greeted. “Today, I brought along a couple of guests to see you. I bet you’re surprised…”

No one moved. For Illya and Kuro, there were countless things they had to say, but neither of them found the words to convey their feelings. Strangely enough, Miyu seemed uncomfortable as well, despite having nothing to do with the current situation (she was, after all, merely pretending to be Kiritsugu’s niece). Likely in response to the awkward atmosphere, Taiga stood up and walked away from the group.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, her voice missing its usual vigor. “So don’t worry and take as much time as you need.”

Despite hearing every single word, none of the girls could so much as offer her a reply.

-

“Well, this certainly is a surprise.”

In response to the swordsman’s cocky grin, Lancer simply scowled.

“This is quite the boundary field,” he commented, opting not to walk up the steps. “The Master who’s using this place is quite the cautious guy.”

“While I agree with that assessment, I must point out it’s not entirely correct,” Assassin replied. Lancer did not have his weapon out, so he did not unsheathe his sword either, but he was still standing instead of sitting on the steps. “This temple has had this barrier long before this War even started. The Master you speak of merely added to those defenses, that’s all.”

“Including multiple Servants and kidnapping other Masters?” Lancer asked.

“… Why have you come here?” Assassin fired back. The power from Caster’s Command Spell could still clearly be felt, making it difficult for him to act freely. It took much effort just to keep from drawing his sword. “If you know there is more than one Servant here, then surely you are not here to fight?”

“There’s an idea,” Lancer chuckled. “But I’ll abstain today. My… acquaintance has business nearby, and I’ve no intention of causing her trouble.”

“What about your lord?” Assassin asked. “It’s difficult for me to believe that you’d be allowed to roam free, given your nature as a Servant.”

“Well, let’s just say my situation is a bit unusual,” Lancer shrugged. “My current Master seems to dislike being called that, you see.”

“Is that right,” Assassin mused. The thought was certainly amusing, but he did not have the luxury of sitting down to discuss it. “Either way, I suggest you leave this place. The longer you stay here, the more unlikely it’ll be for you to return in one piece.”

“If I feared death, I wouldn’t be a Heroic Spirit in the first place,” Lancer scoffed. “Well, I’ve no intention of fighting with you right now, but I have a question for you.”

“Even while you’re being watched by multiple enemies in front of their base?” Assassin asked, the corner of his lips curling to form a smirk. There was no telling when Caster’s patience would wear out, and it would certainly not be pretty once it did. “Such foolishness can hardly be called ‘courage’, you know.”

“What’re you fighting for?” Lancer asked, completely disregarding the jab from Assassin.

The question, though simple, wiped the smirk from Assassin’s face. Staring down at the defenseless man with an expressionless mask, he held his tongue; he had an answer to that question, of course, but he could not figure out what the red-eyed man was getting at.

“It can’t be helped if your Master sided with the Master of that temple,” Lancer said. “However, are you alright with that? As a Heroic Spirit, are you fine with your lord resorting to such underhanded tricks? I just wanted to confirm that.”

Assassin continued to stay silent as he considered those words. It was clear that this Servant, whoever he was, did not know the full story. Assassin himself had no idea what lies that vixen had fed them, but he knew enough about the situation to know that this Servant had no idea about Caster’s involvement. How much he actually knew, or how much he suspected, was unclear.

“I have no reason for which to fight,” he answered. “I’m but a puppet called upon to do another’s bidding. I’m no different from a tool or weapon – I have no will nor reason to do what I do; that’s up to the one who wields the tool to decide.”

“… Just because you’re a Servant?” Lancer growled.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Assassin smiled, but there was no mirth in that expression. “Your interpretation isn’t wrong.”

“You… have no pride as a Heroic Spirit?” Lancer snarled.

“Unfortunately, that’s something I’m not allowed to have,” Assassin replied, forcing out a chuckle. “Those who hide in the shadows of others aren’t permitted to have a luxury like that.”

He did not expect Lancer to understand the meaning behind those words. He had not expected to be pitied, understood or even forgiven for his words. But those were the words that had escaped his lips, lamenting the fate he thought he had accepted long ago.

“… I see,” Lancer said, all traces of levity completely evaporating from his voice. “Are you alright with that?”

“Are you offering me a choice?”

“Why do you need one?” Lancer retorted. “If you’re a Servant – a Heroic Spirit of any sort – change your fate with your own power. If you depend on other people, you’ll never leave behind anything noteworthy.”

“Is that what it means to be a Hero?” Assassin asked.

“That’s what it means to live,” Lancer replied, disappearing into his astral form.

Assassin stared at the spot where the spearman disappeared, his lips parted without being able to offer a response. Even though he had not taken Lancer seriously at first, he could not help but think about the words the enemy Servant had said.

Assassin was, ultimately, not a true hero. He was definitely not a figure like Lancer, nor could he even compare himself with the likes of Caster and Rider. To leave behind a legacy or something like that was unthinkable for him, and he did not hope to be capable of such a feat.

He sought but one goal – to ‘live’. In order to attain that selfish desire, he had to ‘die’. That was all.

That’s what it means to live.

He sought not triumph, but a loss that granted meaning to his existence. For him, wanting anything else was a luxury he could not afford. And yet, despite having resigned himself to that, the swordsman entertained those words.

He recalled the terrified face of that weak, helpless boy. Faced with a battle beyond him, he continued to struggle, all while being manipulated without hope of victory or escape. He was merely a child who had nothing to do with all this, but had ended up in the middle of it all.

If he could wish to leave something behind, Assassin wondered if he would have wanted the boy to live.

He was a tool, but even then there were lives he did not wish to see lost. He was just a commonplace man, so it was only natural for him to value the lives of those around him. While this miracle of ‘being here’ lasted, he would embrace the thoughts he was not meant to entertain. Even if they were the thoughts on the scale of a mere man and not a hero.

“Dear me,” he said, his words lost in a passing breeze. “True heroes really are dazzling after all.”

Upon the empty steps that lead to Ryuudou Temple, Sasaki Kojirou sheathed his sword.

-

“Illya. Are you sure about this?”

“Mm,” the part-time Magical Girl nodded. There was no strength in her tone, but there was something in her eyes that made Kuro not question her any further. “What about you, Kuro? You were injured, weren’t you?”

“I was, but Miyu… helped me out with that,” Kuro said, looking rather shy.

“T-that was… um…” Miyu mumbled, refusing to meet Illya’s eyes.

“… Why does that sound so suggestive…?” Illya questioned. She would likely have pressed the issue, if not for the man walking right next to her. “What about you, onii-chan? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll manage,” Shirou assured her, but he was wincing.

Illya opened her mouth to protest, only to keep quiet as she exchanged glances with Lancer. As the past few days had proven, Shirou was definitely not going to back down, especially when three elementary schoolgirls were going to be joining the fray (and, if she was perfectly honest, she doubted he would stay behind even if they chose not to fight).

“Just so we’re clear, kid,” Lancer said, twirling his bright crimson lance in one hand as the group climbed the stairs leading to Ryuudou temple. Even though Caster had gone ahead moments ago, he was still looking around, as though he was expecting enemy ambushes at any moment. “If you’re in trouble, use that Command Seal of yours. I’ll be there in a flash, got it?”

“Yes,” Illya replied, giving him a slow nod. “Thank you, Lancer-san.”

There was something odd about her gesture, but Lancer did not question it. Ever since they returned the day before after the visit to her father’s grave, the look in her eyes had simply… changed. He did not question what had happened during that visit (partially because he was pretty peeved himself), nor did he ask why she had locked herself in her room with that Mystic Code Ruby after that, but he knew.

He knew at that moment that she would not back down anymore – not from the battle, not from anything; even if she still had a same timid vibe of a kid, she now had something else as well. It was not exactly a display of strength, but there was a conviction he had not seen before.

“Come on, Saber,” Shirou tried for the umpteenth time. “It’ll be alright. Don’t sulk.”

“I’m not sulking,” Saber denied, her authoritative voice making her words a little more powerful but otherwise still unconvincing. “I have faith in Miyu’s abilities to engage the enemy.”

“But not in mine…?” Shirou muttered.

“Yo,” Lancer greeted suddenly, causing the rest of the group to stop in their ascent. “I see you’re still hanging around this place.”

“Like I said, I’m but a mere tool,” Assassin replied, holding his sword loftily by his side. “I have nowhere else to be besides in front of this gate.”

“That’s a shame,” Lancer said. “Saber. You sure about this?”

“Yes,” the blond swordswoman replied, tightening the grip on her invisible sword. “As the Heroic Spirit of the Sword, I cannot allow myself to back down from another swordsman. Leave this to me, Lancer.”

“If you say so,” Lancer said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. Even if he did not trust Caster, who had suggested this matchup, he was not going to get in the way of the King of Britain.

“Be careful, Saber-san,” Illya encouraged, despite being one of the weaker combatants in the group.

“Worry not, Illya,” Saber replied. “I swear on my sword that I shall emerge victorious.”

“As much as I enjoy seeing such a touching display,” Assassin interjected. “I am duty bound to guard this gate, so I’m afraid none of you are allowed past this point-”

Wind screeched, and in an instant the blond swordswoman became a gust of blue, tearing through the air between them with the force of a hurricane. Responding almost entirely with instinct, Assassin lowered his stance and swung his blade in an upwards crescent, attempting to catch the invisible weapon in her hands.

Faint moonlight illuminated his blade, carving a silver trail across the night. It lasted but a single moment, before bright vermillion sparks erupted from the sword’s edge instead. Violent tremors shook his arm as Assassin tightened the grip on his weapon, pushing back against Saber’s sword of wind.

“Impressive strength,” he remarked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright, let’s go,” Lancer said, crossing the remaining steps in one powerful leap and rushing towards the gates of Ryuudou Temple. Assassin made no attempt to stop him, nor did he even attempt any eye contact as the spearman passed; it was almost as if their conversation the day before had not happened at all.

Without questioning his command, the rest of the team followed suit; Kuro leapt across the steps, while Illya and Miyu carried Shirou and flew. Doubt was clearly written on their faces, but no one said anything; just like how the three of them had been adamant about coming along, Saber was surprisingly stubborn about whatever she decided to do. She had made it very clear she did not require assistance, so it was no use saying anything more at this point.

“You let them pass rather easily,” Saber noted, still attempting to push back Assassin’s sword. “Was it not your duty to guard this gate?”

“It cannot be helped if I’m too busy engaging another enemy,” Assassin reasoned, his tone playful. If anything, he sounded rather pleased that everyone else had passed him. “I will still go after them after slaying you, however.”

“No, you will not,” Saber declared. “You will fall here, swordsman.”

A metallic screech resounded, and Saber leapt away, landing a short flight of stairs below. Maintaining his advantageous position, Assassin rested his sword on his shoulder, regarding the noble swordswoman with what appeared to be confidence.

“It’s ‘Assassin’,” he corrected. “Servant Assassin, Sasaki Kojirou. For a battle like this, it would be most inconvenient to not know the name of your foe, would it not?”

“… Indeed,” Saber replied, unable to hide her surprise. “Since you have revealed your name, I shall also-”

“There’s no need,” Assassin cut across her. “I have no need to know of your name. All I need to know… I will learn by crossing swords with you. That is all.”

“Regardless, you have offered me your name,” Saber retorted. “As the pride of a Heroic Spirit demands, I too will reveal mine.”

“… ‘Pride’, huh…” Assassin muttered. “You truly are the same as that man, living your life with something like that as your motivation. How admirable.”

“I am Arturia Pendragon, King of Britain,” Saber announced. “Now that we no longer need to conceal our identities, let us battle honorably, Sasaki Kojirou.”

With that, Saber once more leapt towards Assassin, her invisible blade clutched in a tight two-hand grip. Without backing down against the force of her charge, Assassin stepped forward, bringing down his sword towards the swordswoman’s head.

A wall of wind greeted his blade with a shrill metallic noise, as the formless weapon in Saber’s hands shielded her from his attack. Her feet planted firmly on the stone steps, Saber forcefully pushed away Assassin’s sword, likely in the hopes of causing him to lose balance.

I have the advantage in speed and power, she assessed in her mind. I can just-

The glint of a blade’s edge in the moonlight in the corner of her eye made her change her approach instantly, letting go of her two-handed grip and raising her right gauntlet to block Assassin’s swing. However, before she could launch a counterattack, the weight of Assassin’s sword disappeared, and a different blade cut out from the darkness towards her head.

In a split instant, her body moved by itself. Had she depended on her senses, Saber would have lost her head then and there. Instead, her instincts took over, moving her free right gauntlet to grab the incoming blade. Catching the weapon and forcibly pushing it away, Saber swung the blade in her left towards Assassin’s midsection.

A sharp, burning pain pierced her palms, forcing her to release her grip on the blade. Assassin, having pushed the end of the sword’s grip forward with an open palm, made the edge dig into Saber’s mana-infused gauntlet as he stepped back, parrying her attack with ease.

Returning to a two-handed grip, Assassin swung his sword in an upwards crescent, sending Saber’s sword towards the sky and disrupting her balance on the steps. Saber, having anticipated the move, let out a powerful command:

“Howl, Invisible Air!”

The wind coiling around her blade roared to life, revealing for an instant a magnificent golden shine. Soaring towards the night sky above like a raging hurricane, the wind barrier around the King of Knights’ sword brought the legendary weapon down on Assassin once more. Even if she could not exert enough force to counter Assassin’s attack just then, the sheer force of Invisible Air was more than enough-

But her sword did not crash Assassin’s into the ground. Almost as if by some sort of sorcery, Assassin had managed to make his sword – which moved as if alive – slide out of the path of Saber’s counter and towards her neck. Reacting just in the nick of time, Saber kicked away from the steps, retreating and putting distance between them.

“Impressive,” Assassin said, his tone light as though he was discussing the weather. “I should have taken your head at least twice now, and yet it stays attached to your head. It would seem western swordplay is more than just mere flailing.”

How is this possible? Saber wondered as she readjusted her stance. I’m supposed to be stronger and faster than him, so why is it that I cannot overwhelm him?

“You seem to be in a rush,” Assassin commented. “Perhaps out of concern for the wellbeing of your master?”

“My apologies,” Saber said. “But I cannot waste any time battling you. Under normal circumstances, I would have liked to enjoy crossing swords with a swordsman of your-”

“It matters not,” Assassin assured her. He had felt something in their brief exchange – something that made him forget about all the troubles clouding his mind. “But unfortunately for you, I have all the time in the world. Rather, right now I’m wishing this moment doesn’t end, Saber.”

For the first time since his summoning, the Servant Assassin’s head was clear.

“Let me ask you, Saber,” he went on, seeing Saber’s confused expression. “What does it mean to ‘live’ to you? What does it mean to have an existence to call your own? If one’s life cannot end, can they truly be said to have ‘lived’? I’ve always thought that the moment you die, that becomes inviolable proof that you were once alive.”

In the few seconds he had taken and countered her attacks, Assassin had not entertained another thought. For someone who initially sought nothing but ‘death’, that fleeting moment was something he did not appreciate at first. However, the more his sword met her holy blade, the more he felt like this was what he was fighting for.

“I’m but a wandering spirit devoid of a name and an existence,” he said. “I faded away from the face of the earth, no more significant than a powerless leaf at the mercy of a whimsical gale. I didn’t ‘die’, and as such I cannot be said to have ‘lived’. However, if I can give it my all in this battle, maybe my being here would have some meaning. Perhaps, if I was to meet my end here by your sword, this empty shell might find some meaning in existing after all.”

He lifted his sword. Upon the temple steps, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon, the nameless samurai looked into the eyes of the knight who may very well be his last opponent.

He had sought merely one thing – to have a life to call his own. He was not worthy of being called a hero, nor worthy of wanting to save another person. He believed that when only when he drew his last breath, could he be said to have ‘lived’.

Yet, in this fleeting moment, he found a part of himself that wished this moment would exist forever. That this clashing of swords under an endless sky would never cease its mellow tune.

That this pathetic existence of his would continue for even a second longer, just to cross blows with the woman before him. Such was the world the blond knight had shown him.

I thank you, Saber.

Indeed, he may not have felt alive before now. Indeed, he may not have a life nor a name to call his own. But right now, in this fleeting battle – this ephemeral instant – he was alive.

“Now,” he said, a brilliant smile blossoming across his face. “Allow me to enjoy this life to my final breath, Saber!”

Chapter Text

“Well, I suppose that’ll do for now.”

Upon hearing those much-awaited words, Illyasviel von Einzbern let her body collapse to the ground in a most unladylike fashion. She did not bother rescinding her Lancer Install, nor did she care if the ground was dirty from all the dust and dirt she and her Spartan (he was actually Irish, but at that moment it did not matter very much) instructor had kicked up in their ‘training’.

At least, that was what Lancer and Saber referred to their ‘beat-the-tar-out-of-magical-girls’ sessions as.

“You ain’t half bad, brat,” Lancer said, looking as though he had just come back from a short walk outside. It made Illya wonder if he was cheating by sapping her mana in order to do battle with her (which was hellish enough as-is). “Normal magi can’t hope to fight at your level. You should be glad.”

“Is that so…” Illya muttered into the ground. “Then why is it that I don’t feel all that glad right now…?”

“I completely agree!” Ruby, having transformed back into her Magical Wand of Love and Justice Form, added indignantly. “Such violent battles are not what magical girls are about! They’re more about flying around giving off sparkles, bubbles, hope – as well as displaying indecent exposure – all while obliterating the enemy in a barrage of white-hot energy!”

“Somehow I recall all our battles with the Class Cards being violent one way or another, though,” Illya mumbled. Then, with energy even she did not know she had left, she lifted her head in one swift motion. “Wait! What was that about indecent exposure?!”

“Ara, did I not mention it before?” Ruby chuckled. “A magical girl’s greatest strength is her cuteness, so it’s only natural we try to show as much of said cuteness as possible~”

“That’s not being cute!” Illya retorted. “That’s just being a pervert!”

“My, my, Illya-san,” Ruby sighed. “You won’t ever be a proper Magical Girl if you worry about tiny details like that…”

“I do worry! And it’s not a tiny detail!”

“Look, brat,” Lancer said, raising his voice to make sure they could hear him over their bickering. “This is gonna be our last training session before we raid that temple. This is as much as I can teach you, and while it’s more than enough to defeat a couple of magi, you’re still gonna have problems facing proper Servants. That’s why, I want you to leave the enemy Servants to me and Saber wherever possible. You understand?”

“… Yes,” Illya replied. As much as she hated to admit it, she was more likely to be a burden than anything else if she was to fight alongside Lancer as she was right now. If that was the case, the best support she could offer was to not get in his way. “I understand…”

“C’mon, don’t give me that face,” Lancer sighed. “You’re still a better fighter than most of the Masters in this War, I can guarantee you that much.”

Illya nodded unenthusiastically. She vaguely wondered what he meant by ‘most’, but dismissed it as a comment referring to this world’s Shirou. Seeing that his encouragement had no effect, Lancer considered his options.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said. He did not like bringing it up, but this was a time-tested way to distract his tiny Master from just about anything. “This is something for you to keep in mind while in battle. It’s important, especially for a girl like you.”

Seeing that he had her attention, he cleared his throat and added in a serious tone:

“Absolutely no ‘Beast Mode’, okay?”

“I told you to forget about that!”

-

“Illya-san! Incoming!”

Barely hearing the words over the tumultuous roar of multiple explosions, Illya hastily dove for cover. Had she been in her Lancer Install form, she could have evaded the enemy’s magical beams without trouble, but she was not. Instead, she and Miyu had opted for their default Magical Girl forms in an attempt to maintain the element of surprise (as well as to preserve their prana), which was now proving to be a hindrance.

“Class Card, Lancer-” she began, only to be interrupted by a stray beam of magic. “R-Ruby! We’re in trouble! Isn’t there a way we can Install the cards without having to shout the command?!”

“Eh~?” Ruby whined, seemingly oblivious to the constant bombardment headed their way. “But it’s more Magical Girl-like that way!”

“Your ‘Magical Girl-likeness’ is going to get us killed!” Illya screamed as a beam of light narrowly missed her head. “Seriously! We’re going to die here!”

“Nee-san, I believe it’s time you stopped fooling around,” Sapphire said calmly as she surrounded Miyu with a powerful barrier that lasted about two seconds. “The situation is most dire.”

“Tch,” Ruby folded her wings across her ring. “Fine, fine. Just do it randomly, Illya-san. As long as you will it to in your head, the Install should work alright. It’s so boring, though…”

“Tell me things like that earlier next time!” Illya yelled, diving behind a reinforced shield created by Miyu. “Did you hear that, Miyu? We can perform the Install!”

“…No, it’s no good,” Miyu replied, hopping into the air as the spot they were at moments before was blown apart. “The Saber Install isn’t good with range. If I unleash its only ranged attack here-!”

A beam of light collided into her at that moment, cutting off the rest of her sentence and sending Miyu crashing into a wall.

“Miyu!” Illya yelled, but was forced to continue her evasion as countless more beams rained down on her. “Why...? Why’re you doing this, Caster?!”

Unfazed by the little girl’s question, their supposed ally Caster smiled.

Naturally, she was happy. Everything had gone so smoothly – almost too smoothly, in fact – that she was feeling nothing but joy at the moment. It had all been so simple, but it had been so effective at the same time.

Just like she had told them to, Saber was left at the Temple gates and Lancer ended up battling Rider. That left the main group – composed of three girls and a mediocre magus – vulnerable, and the best part of it all was that they were here.

They had run right into the room she prepared for this battle, effectively giving her an easy victory. They were putting themselves at her mercy without her having to do a thing. What more could she ask for?

“Ugh!”

Tumbling across the crater-filled floor, Emiya Shirou almost dropped the weapons in his hands. Granted, they were nothing more than broken copies of Archer’s blades, but it was the best form of offense he could muster at the moment. Right next to him was a slightly less beat-up Kuro, who was panting as though she had just run several marathons.

“This isn’t good,” she muttered. She had expected the battle to be swift, considering her opponent was a human instead of Caster, so being defeated this one-sidedly was not part of the plan. To make matters worse, she was losing despite having Shirou on her side. Despite the odds heavily in their favor, they were being overwhelmed so badly it was not even funny. “This guy isn’t… human…”

Not pausing to mock her nor to let them catch their breath, the robot-like man that was Kuzuki Souichirou approached the pair, intent on continuing to crush the life out of them. The self-proclaimed Master of Caster had not spoken a single word since the start of their battle, nor had he displayed a modicum of emotion. There was nothing about this opponent she could read, and there was no opening she could take advantage of. How was she supposed to fight against someone like that?

“Kuzuki… sensei…” Shirou groaned, steadily getting to his feet. It was difficult to tell just how badly he was hurt, but Kuro knew that he was nearing his limit. “Why are you… Is Caster… controlling you…?”

“… I see,” Kuzuki said, opening his mouth for the first time. “You believe I’m being manipulated by Caster, so you hold back in the hopes of freeing me.”

Kuro tightened the grip on her swords. She had not expected Kuzuki to start talking all of a sudden, but it was an opportunity she was not going to let slip. She could not get a clear view of Illya and Miyu’s battle against Caster from where she was (not that Kuzuki gave her room to even breathe anyway), but the pain-sharing spell between her and Illya told her enough. They were fighting a losing battle, and unless they could take out Kuzuki there was no hope of victory.

Well, there’s no guarantee he’s actually her Master, after all the lies she’s already fed us, she thought. But you guys sure aren’t giving us a choice, huh?

“But you are misinformed,” Kuzuki went on. “I am acting of my own volition. I chose to take part in this Holy Grail War as Caster’s Master, and I chose to oppose you. There is no need for you to hold back, Emiya. Come at me with the intent to kill.”

“N-no way,” Shirou stammered. “Then you’re fine with all this?! She’s going to kill them! Are you alright with her doing something like that?!”

“I’m not responsible for their lives,” Kuzuki replied, his tone devoid of emotion. “They chose to get involved with this conflict, and as such it is their responsibility-”

Kuro missed the rest of his words, having teleported behind him while he was in the middle of his speech. Even with the incredible strength and speed he had displayed, there was no way for him to avoid a sudden attack to his blind spot.

I have to kill him.

The all-too-familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing with it a jolt of pain that dulled her movements for a split second. Under normal circumstances, Kuro would still have been able to land her attack, but her current opponent was different.

Displaying speed rivaling that of a Servant’s, Kuzuki ducked, avoided her blades, spun on the spot and slammed the back of a fist into Kuro’s side all in one swift motion.

Pain exploded across the side of her waist, and hardly a moment later Kuro crashed into a nearby pillar, almost breaking the structure in the process.

“Damn it…” she muttered, trying and failing to get to her feet. “I thought I told you to stop getting in my way…”

“Kuro! Are you alright?!” Shirou yelled. His voice sounded extremely distant, but whether it was due to her fading consciousness or his own lack of strength was unclear.

Kuro opened her mouth – presumably to say something sarcastic – only to shut it immediately as a fresh wave of pain assaulted her frame. Whatever that Kuzuki person was doing, it let him hit harder than even Bazett.

“Run…” she mumbled. Between her own pain and the pain transmitted to her from Illya, Kuro could no longer summon any strength to fight. “Run, Shirou…”

The world around her faded out of focus. The pain grew hazier and hazier, as though it too, was fading into the comfortable darkness that encroached her being.

“Run…”

Before that one word could escape her lips, the world had already gone dark.

-

“Miyu!” Illya cried, attempting to protecting both of them with Ruby’s magical barrier. “Miyu! Are you okay?!”

“Illya-san, this is bad,” Ruby pointed out, her voice now laced with a hint of worry. “We can’t hold back her attacks like this!”

“But what can we do?!” Illya yelled, watching helplessly as Caster’s unrelenting bombardment started putting cracks in her barrier. “If I Install a Class Card, then Miyu will get hit!”

“I’m… okay,” Miyu managed feebly, trying and barely managing to push herself up. “D-do it, Illya… We have no hopes of winning otherwise…”

“Miyu-sama, you can’t!” Sapphire warned. “The damage is much worse than you think! Even my regenerating abilities will take some time to heal you!”

“We need more firepower,” Miyu muttered, her expression showing just how much pain she was in just then. “But… I can’t move…”

“Isn’t there another way?!” Illya asked. “The barrier won’t last much longer!”

“… There is,” Ruby muttered, sounding dead serious for what might be the first time. “But…”

“Nee-san, that’s-” Sapphire began.

“We don’t have a choice, Sapphire-chan!” Ruby replied. “If it’s just for a minute or so, then it should be okay!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you have something then hurry!” Illya exclaimed, her legs buckling under the strain of holding Caster at bay. “Ruby!”

“… Understood,” Ruby replied.

An eruption of light swallowed Illya, just as Caster’s Rain of Light pierced her feeble barrier. The giant pillar of raw energy deflected the Servant’s blasts, before blasting a hole through the ceiling and into the night sky.

“Illya!” Shirou yelled, forgetting about his opponent in the heat of the moment.

Almost as though it had heard him, the pillar of light rescinded, revealing an unhurt Illya wearing what appeared to be a newer version of her standard Magical Girl outfit. For a few seconds, everything was still, and even Caster stopped her attack to observe the situation at hand.

“What is this…?”Illya wondered aloud. “Ruby, this is…”

“Yes, Illya-san,” Ruby replied. “We don’t have time for an explanation, so please make this quick.”

“… Okay,” Illya replied, tightening her grip on the new wand in her hand. Ruby and Sapphire had disappeared in that pillar of light, replaced with a wand that had a sphere at its end. For reasons she could not wrap her head around just then, the sphere had two floating stars in it, and from said stars she could hear Ruby and Sapphire’s voices. “I don’t quite get what’s going on, but this means I can fight Caster now, right?”

“Illya…” Miyu gasped. “T-that’s…”

“You’re right, Miyu,” Illya replied, nodding wisely. “… I have absolutely no idea how this happened, either.”

“Don’t sweat the small details, Illya-san!” Ruby reprimanded. “You’re a Magical Girl! Just chalk it up to miracles, love power, random magic or love power!”

“Was there a need to say ‘love power’ twice…?” Illya asked. “Ugh!”

“Illya-sama, the prana consumption in this form is far greater than the Include or the Install,” Sapphire said. “If we don’t end this battle quickly, your body might not be able to handle the strain.”

“I-I got it,” Illya replied.

“Illya-” Miyu began, only to catch herself before saying anything. Without Sapphire by her side, there wasn’t anything she could say to say to Illya just then. She was in no position to offer concern, so instead she said only one thing: “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Miyu,” Illya assured her, a newfound confidence in her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

-

Bright, vermillion sparks burst into being before her eyes, followed swiftly by the sharp screech of clashing metal.

As though alive, Assassin’s sword sliced through the air, each and every slash a graceful step in the samurai’s refined dance. He had not a single wasted moment; every step, every swing, was made with utmost precision – precision that could only have come from years upon years of devotion to the way of the sword. Such exquisite swordsmanship surely belonged to a noble warrior, a true swordsman worthy of countless praises and undoubtedly with a mountain of accomplishments to his name.

And yet, the man’s sword was empty.

No matter how many times her sword met his, she could not figure it out. Regardless of how their weapons clashed, there was nothing to be felt from his blade. Even with such impeccable skills, nothing of the wielder flowed into his weapon. She simply could not read his movements, his thoughts. Or perhaps she was reading him, but there was simply nothing to be read.

Within him, there was surely no pride to be found. There were no emotions, no desire, no aspirations – there was nothing in his sword that a swordsman of his caliber should have. His movements, though impressive, lost all meaning when all he wielded was an empty blade. His swordplay, rather than being techniques practiced by a warrior who sought victory, was reduced to nothing more than moves born of endless repetition. This man was hollow, and as such so was his sword.

Yet, inexplicably, he was smiling.

“What makes you smile, Assassin?” she asked as she put some distance between them. “Do you think of this battle as nothing more than a farce?”

“Of course not,” Assassin replied. “I’m merely enjoying the moment, Saber. My face simply betrayed my feelings, that’s all. Or perhaps you mean to tell me… taking joy in crossing blows with others is a foreign concept to western swordsmen?”

“Such a sentiment could only exist in honorable knights,” Saber fired back. “However, I sense no pride in your sword, Assassin. You mean to tell me that you truly understand what it means to swing a blade?”

“You misunderstand, Saber,” Assassin replied loftily. “I simply think the swordplay of accomplished swordsmen are a spectacle to behold, that’s all. It’s only to be expected that my blade lacks pride… I have no pride as a swordsman myself, after all.”

“… What did you say?” Saber asked, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger. “Are you not a Heroic Spirit, Assassin?”

“As expected, you’re too brilliant an opponent for me,” Assassin said. Whether he was speaking more to Saber or to himself was a mystery. “You proper Servants are something else, Saber. You swing your sword with a responsibility I can never have, and you take pride in the identity you carved onto the pages of history.”

She was a glorious figure extolled by many, but he was a mere shadow who could not exist without someone to cast said shadow in the first place. He had no identity to call his own, so naturally he could not be granted the same title of ‘Heroic Spirit’.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Saber,” he said, a hint of what appeared to be sadness in his voice. “But while I’m a Servant, I’m not a Heroic Spirit. I’m just a puppet summoned to do that vixen’s bidding, nothing more.”

“… What do you mean?” Saber asked, her concentration slipping ever so slightly in that moment. It did not escape Assassin’s notice, but he let it slide regardless.

“I’m-” Assassin began, only to be interrupted by a distant eruption of light from inside the Temple. “… What’s this? You have some rather interesting followers, it seems.”

“That’s…” Saber’s gaze sharpened at those words, causing a torrent of prana and wind to roar around her like a hurricane. “Move aside, Assassin. I cannot allow myself to be delayed any longer!”

“And I believe I made myself very clear as well,” Assassin replied, seemingly unaffected by Saber’s fighting spirit. “My sole purpose is to stop you. If you want to get to them, you’ll have to do so after slaying me, Saber.

“However, it wouldn’t do if your swordplay got clumsy due to impatience,” he added, descending the steps – giving up his advantage of higher ground in the process – and standing on the same level ground as Saber. “So let’s end this, Saber. In the next exchange of blows, I’ll have your head.”

“… So you’re saying you still have something up your sleeve, Assassin?” Saber asked.

“You can say that for the both of us, can you not?” Assassin replied with a smirk. “But, whether or not you can force me to use my secret technique remains to be seen.”

“… Very well,” Saber said, once more steadying her stance. “Then I shall make you move.”

“That’s the spirit,” Assassin smiled. “A woman is truly beautiful when she has nothing to hide. Now, show me everything you’ve got, Saber.”

Wind roared. Swords screeched. And into the still air of night, a spray of bright crimson bloomed.

-

“You seem rather preoccupied.”

The lightless room echoed the priest’s words, leaving behind a faint, barely audible sound. The space, bereft of heat, seemed to freeze his words the moment they left his lips, before the crushing silence swallowed them without mercy.

But even the shadows, born from the darkest corners of this desolate church, shrank away from the one he spoke to.

“Is there something that requires your attention?” Kirei asked, abstaining from using words that might be interpreted as an insult. He was all too familiar with the King of Heroes’ temper, and he was not looking forward to being impaled by countless Noble Phantasms just then.

“Of course not,” the King replied. “As if the mindless frolicking of mongrels could deserve my attention.”

Kirei did not reply. He knew better than to reply when Gilgamesh was clearly in a bad mood. Instead, he held his tongue, waiting for the King to continue.

“It’s not the mongrels that interest me,” Gilgamesh went on. “It is whatever’s being drawn to the gathering of mongrels that intrigues me.”

Seemingly satisfied with enlightening Kirei on the thoughts of a King, the King of Babylonia turned and headed for the church’s entrance. He did nothing more than walk casually, and yet even the shadows of night scurried away from him.

“Where are you headed?” Kirei asked.

“There’s something I wish to see,” the King replied. “If it truly is what it appears to be, then this Holy Grail War will be much more entertaining than expected.”

Without elaborating further, the King of Heroes departed for Ryuudou Temple, where he knew – and since he knew, it was a law – that the shadows beneath Mount Enzo was drawn to. He did not know what it was, and he did not know how it even came into existence, but there was one thing he was certain of.

If that shadow sought his Holy Grail, then it would be annihilated without mercy.

Chapter Text

The world around it was silent. Lifeless. Even the darkness surrounding it feared its power. Its burning desire. Its seething rage.

It could not understand. It had no physical body, and thus no mind to process information. All it had was a tenuous link to a certain thing – the object it desired without knowing why – and that was its only motivation. It possessed nothing besides that desire, and as such had no interest in anything else.

And yet, it found itself moving. Writhing. Reaching for something that existed beyond the dark confines of this unknown place.

Somewhere close by, were several tiny lights. Insignificant and helpless before the darkness around them, but still glowing nonetheless. They were not the prize it sought; it knew – somehow, it knew – that the lights were seeking the same thing he was.

The ‘Holy Grail’.

It understood. Even without a mind of its own, it understood. And that was why, for the first time since it followed that mysterious voice here, it decided to move. To where the Grails were. To where the tiny lights were gathering.

To the place where an oddly familiar presence approached.

-

“This is pointless, Rin,” Archer complained. “At this rate, us being here would be completely pointless.”

“Not yet,” Rin muttered. “That little brat hasn’t jumped in yet, so don’t do anything for now.”

“From the looks of it, I won’t have anything to do soon,” Archer sighed. “I can’t see Caster anywhere, but as far as the other matchups are concerned, my intervention won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rider’s hardly putting up a fight,” Archer replied, sounding almost disappointed. “Well, with a Master like that, I can’t really blame her. Lancer can finish her off without even using his Noble Phantasm.”

“What about Saber?” Rin asked. “Didn’t you say she was in a tough spot?”

“She’s rushing things,” Archer almost smirked as he said that. “If she could just calm down and focus, she’ll make quick work of Assassin.”

“You sure know her well,” Rin noted.

“I’ve seen how she fights,” Archer replied, giving his Master a noncommittal shrug. “If she could lose to Assassin in a fair fight, she’d have died to Berserker that night.”

“Is that right,” Rin said. She had phrased it like a statement, not a question. “I’ll take your word for it then.”

She was fidgeting – something quite rare for a magus like her – but Archer could not blame her; not only was Illyasviel not here, there was a strange surge of magical energy coming from further inside Ryuudou Temple. It definitely wasn’t a Servant, but it definitely wasn’t something a normal magus could pull off.

“Archer,” Rin said. “Can you see what’s happening inside from here?”

“That’s the third time you’ve asked me that, Rin,” Archer sighed. “I can’t see through solid wood, you know. And for the seventh time, I can’t sense or see Berserker anywhere near us either.”

“Then just say so,” Rin snapped. “Don’t give me that smartass remark.”

Archer considered replying – likely with a comment that would invoke the wrath of the Red Devil – but instead of dooming himself he looked away.

He considered the situation at hand. He couldn’t feel Berserker’s presence anywhere, and since there was no way of concealing something that big or a murderous intent so potent, it meant the Mad Servant was simply not here. Despite this being a big battle – which happened to include practically every Servant and that mysterious Illyasviel lookalike – the Master of Berserker had not dispatched her invincible protector.

Was she really intending to sit out on this battle? Was she confident enough of Berserker’s abilities that she didn’t need to so much as see what the other Servants were capable of? Or was she plotting something in the shadows?

No, it’s alright, Archer reasoned. Berserker doesn’t have any ranged attacks. If she wants to fight us, she’ll need to get close. Even if that giant hunk of muscle can jump, he can’t get close enough without me-

The air was still. The blood in his veins turned to ice. His train of thought stopped abruptly at that point, but it did not matter.

He had been focusing on finding Berserker’s presence. He had simply taken it for granted that she’d always have him around. He’d forgotten that there was a way for Berserker to be right next to them without warning.

“Rin,” he said as calmly as possible. “We need to get out of here, right now.”

“Aww… and I only just got here, too.”

Before he even had time to register that voice, Archer was in position, stepping between his Master and the unknown assailant while summoning Kanshou and Bakuya to his hands. All the distractions were removed from his mind, replaced by a fierce focus towards the enemy before them.

Even if the enemy was just a little girl, all by herself.

“Hmm, you sure moved fast,” Illyasviel said pleasantly. Berserker was nowhere to be seen, but she did not seem to be worried in the least. “And what’s with the swords? I thought you were a bowman.”

“Being able to adapt to any situation is vital for a Servant,” Archer replied. “You didn’t bring your giant protector with you this time?”

“I left him at home,” Illyasviel said. “I wouldn’t be able to get this close if I brought him along, after all.”

“And what, you thought you could kill me off sneakily?” Rin asked. “Pretty poor stealth if you announce yourself like that.”

“My, my, Rin-san,” Illyasviel smirked. “Only weaklings rely on such underhanded means. I just came here so I could beat your Archer without having to face any of his annoying arrows, that’s all.”

The tiny girl blinked, as though she was confused by what she had just said. Ever since that huge burst of prana started emitting from Ryuudou Temple, she had started feeling strangely dizzy. Now even weird things like adding ‘-san’ to Rin’s name were coming out of her mouth.

“And just how do you intend to do that?” Rin challenged, having taken that mistake as an attempt at mockery. Illyasviel might have snuck under Archer’s guard (something she’d be sure to make him suffer for later), but without Berserker she was nothing more than a magus, albeit a powerful one. “You really think you can defeat a Servant by yourself?”

“Oh, Rin,” Illyasviel sighed. “Even if it’s only in name, you are still a Master, so please act like one. Do you really think I’d go through all this-”

She winced. The detail did not escape Archer’s eyes, and he was fairly confident he knew why. There was a strange presence lurking within the mountains behind them, and it was possibly stronger than even Berserker. Rin had not said a thing about it, but Illyasviel had reacted to it. If it was something Archer and Illyasviel could sense but not Rin, then it could only be one thing.

A Servant. A Servant-like thing was in the mountains, with an unknown purpose and unknown abilities. He had no idea what on earth that thing was, Archer had half a mind to blow the entire mountain to smithereens after this was over.

“Do you really think I’d go through all this trouble without a way to call my Servant here?” Illyasviel went on, and Archer had to admit she was doing a good job trying to mask her discomfort. “There’s a very simple way to do that, you know?”

Rin did not reply, instead casting a brief look at the Command Seals etched onto the back of her hand.

“Well, Master,” Archer said under his breath. “Looks like she knows how to use them better than you do, at least.”

“Shut up,” Rin snapped. “I’ll deal with you once we’re done with her.”

“Now, let’s get started,” Illyasviel announced, as glowing red marks began appearing on her face. “By my Command Seal, I order you:

“Berserker, come to my side!”

-

A world covered in white. A canvas unblemished, yet it did not feel clean. Within this place, surely many happy memories were made, but they were simply illusions.

There was no happiness to be found here. There was only pain, regret, sorrow, anger, despair.

The dying trees wear the pristine white shroud, but their garments do nothing for that fact. They’re dying. They were born into this cold, desolate land, and here is where they perish. No one misses a tree in a forest, and no one notices when one’s life has reached its end there.

Surely, it was the same for her.

“… I see.”

She was created – no, born – into this unforgiving world. She was born into this landscape, where the blizzards don’t end and the white never fades. The child of white and silver was no different from the rest of the forest – an insignificant life wilting away, unnoticed. No matter how much white she wore, no matter how much the landscape painted her in its image, it did nothing for the hollow, black void inside.

“So you…”

Drops of red dirtied the canvas. Their presence marred the deceptive beauty of the world, but the drops themselves were so pretty. They lost their shimmer easily, but ever so briefly they pulsated with life. They were alive, even in that accursed forest.

“… protected me of your own free will?”

The white refused to fade. The blizzard continued to howl, mocking that tiny child. But in that moment, a silent promise was made, and that one promise changed the world around her.

“Let’s go back, Berserker.”

“Illya-san!”

Snapping out of her reverie just in time to avoid a barrage of energy beams, Illya dived down and shot up like a rocket. The wings of light and sparkles on her back carried her like a feather, weaving in and out of Caster’s attacks with the finesse of a dancer.

“Please focus, Illya-san!” Ruby’s voice came from the new wand in her hands. “This form is very dangerous, so we have to end this battle before it does any lasting damage!”

“That is correct, Illya-sama,” Sapphire’s voice added. “Illya-sama’s entire body is being converted into pseudo-magic circuits in order to use this form. Please finish the battle swiftly.”

“I know, but-!” Illya began, only to stop and block one of Caster’s attacks with one hand. The magic circle that appeared to shield her from the blow was much larger than usual, but summoning it also tore a gasp from her lips. “W-we can’t get close enough…!”

In all honesty, it would have been possible had Illya been alone. However, between protecting Miyu and fighting Caster, she also had to protect Kuro and Shirou from Caster’s Master. She could not launch a wide-ranged attack, but Caster was free to do whatever she wanted. Even though Illya could tell that she had the advantage in this match-up, she was the one on the defensive.

“We can’t fight her in such a confined space,” Sapphire reasoned. “We need to move somewhere with more space, Illya-sama.”

“Even if you tell me that…!” Illya replied, weaving in and out of the countless beams of light. “How am I supposed to do that in this situation?!”

“Illya-san, you need to stop talking in the middle of an action scene!” Ruby half-scolded. “If you have that much energy to spare, please focus on the battle!”

“Ah, geez!” Illya groaned. “If this place won’t do…!”

She raised a hand, and a bright sphere of light appeared in her palm. It expanded without command, swallowing the user and in an instant, the entire room. When the blinding glare finally subsided, they were no longer in the same room as before.

No one had moved so much as an inch. They were still in the exact same place within Ryuudou Temple, except the walls, ceiling and floorboards had all disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the occupants covered in translucent pink barriers. Even Caster’s Master had a barrier, although Caster herself was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s slightly better,” Illya mumbled. “Everyone’s safe, too, so that’s good…”

“We could have spared ourselves a lot of trouble if you had done this earlier, Illya-san,” Ruby commented. “Then again, this in itself lacks a last-boss kind of tension, so it’s boring in a way…”

“Which is it?!” Illya asked. “And don’t act so carefree! Caster’s not defeated yet-”

The rest of her sentence died in her throat. No one interrupted her, and no magical beam threatened to blow her face off, but Illya still could not finish that thought. It was not difficult to see why, either; for in that moment, the world went silent.

For an instant, time froze. The space they were fighting in had been battered beyond recognition, filled with countless craters caused by dense beams of mana, but even that scene of violence and destruction went dead in that single moment. No one knew why that was – not even Caster – but they all felt it.

“Illya-san?!” Ruby called out, as Illya flew higher into the chilly night sky. “Where’re you going?”

“There’s something… coming,” Illya mumbled, staring into the distance. Even in her current form, which gave her enough power to match a proper Servant in combat, she was trembling. It was an action she could not control, it was something instinctive – it was an emotion engraved into the very genes of every living being.

It was raw, primordial fear.

And there was nothing she could do to stop whatever was causing it.

With a bestial roar that shook the very heavens, the Eighth Class Card erupted from within the mountains, soaring into the boundless black sky.

Chapter Text

“W-what is that…?”

Despite uttering those words, Illya could not register the voice that escaped her own lips. There was something in her voice – something not entirely foreign – that shook her entire being. It was a sensation similar to what she felt when she wanted to give up on fighting the Class Cards.

Despite her current form and power, Illya could not deny the fear coursing through every cell in her body.

“That…” her lips quivered, unable to form the words she wanted to form. “That’s…”

“That’s… a Servant?” Sapphire wondered, sounding equal parts confused and wary.

“It certainly feels like a Class Card,” Ruby noted, her tone missing its usual mirth. “But that massive energy… It’s not like anything we’ve ever encountered before…”

“We have to run,” Illya said, unable to take her eyes off the black mass rising towards the sky. “We have to run.”

And yet, even as she said those words, Illya knew that running would not change anything. There was simply no running from something like that.

Down below Illya, where the battle with Caster had been raging merely moments before, the battered landscape was now utterly silent. Shirou, whose attention had been directed at Kuzuki, could not help but gawk at the distant shadow; even if he could not understand it, he knew it was something beyond what they could handle.

White-hot pain burst across his chest, followed almost immediately after by the sensation of rough rock against his back. The image of the black mass was replaced by the view of the clear, night sky, and all of a sudden that black object did not matter anymore.

Scrambling to his feet, Shirou narrowly avoided Kuzuki’s fist as his teacher proceeded to punch a hole through the ground. The pain made his movements sluggish, but there was no time for distractions like that.

“Wait, Kuzuki!” he yelled, wincing at the effort. It took every ounce of willpower just to stand, and yelling on top of that felt like each word would rip his chest apart. “This isn’t the time to fight! That black thing-”

“What about it?” Kuzuki fired back, his tone no different from the one he used in class. “My current opponent is you, Emiya. No matter what happens, I will focus on the task at hand.”

Just then, Kuzuki leapt backwards and away from Shirou. Just as Shirou brought up his blades in defense, a streak of silver sliced through the space where Kuzuki’s neck had been just moments before.

The spinning blade, having missed its target, cleaved its way into the ground, burying its misty white edge into the dirt. There was no doubt as to what the name of that blade was.

The sound of tearing fabric rang through the air, accompanied by a trail of glistening rubies. Under the pale moonlight, the droplets of crimson danced, froze for a brief moment, and ultimately collapsed onto the earth alongside-

“Kuzuki!”

The man’s body seemingly reacted to Shirou’s words, springing to its feet and narrowly avoiding Kuro’s swing. Unfazed by the huge gash on his back, Kuzuki countered with a swift hook, only to stumble as his leg gave way. He had not tripped; another spinning blade had simply hacked away at the side of his calf.

Unrelenting and expressionless, Kuro sprang into action, plunging a pair of swords into Kuzuki’s chest. Kuzuki, however, allowed his body to fall forward, causing the blades to end up grazing his shoulders instead.

What’s… going on? Shirou wondered, watching Kuro evade Kuzuki’s punches and dance around her opponent with speed and grace he had never seen from her before. Is that really… Kuro?

“I am the bone of my sword.”

Thin lines of scarlet scattered into the air, and the machine known as Kuzuki finally stopped, falling to its knees. His battered frame was covered in fresh cuts and blood stained his suit, but even then the expression on his face did not change. Kuro, seemingly unscathed, backed away and produced a bow and what appeared to be an arrow out of thin air.

“Wait, Kuro!” Shirou pleaded, but he knew it was too late. He did not know how he knew it, but he understood that Kuro would not stop.

Because in that moment, Kuro was a splitting image of him.

The sound of metal cutting through the night interrupted Shirou’s protests. Even as he forced his screaming body to move, Shirou could see their outlines against the dark canvas overhead: the all-too-familiar forms of Kanshou and Bakuya, spiraling towards Kuzuki’s crouched figure as Kuro prepared to fire her arrow. But as he raised his head to look at the face of the unforgiving archer…

… all he could see were tears.

Her arms were shaking, but not with the effort of holding her bow. Her cheeks were wet, scarred by two burning clear trails.

“Stop me,” she gasped, but it was already too late.

A streak of light tore through the air, roaring towards Kuzuki’s face. There was nothing he could do to stop it at that point, and as Shirou’s mind struggled to accept that fact-

“Get back.”

Pushing him aside and charging in front of Kuzuki was a figure he did not recognize. The person was a stranger and as far as he could tell, was just as wounded as he was. Even so, they were moving at a speed easily exceeding Shirou’s at his peak.

A screeching sound shook the air, and the shockwave of Kuro’s arrow almost knocked Shirou off his feet. However, even though the force was great, there was no explosion or crater; rather, the arrow had failed to hit its mark entirely.

“That was close,” the intruder muttered through pained gasps, throwing away the shards of Kanshou and Bakuya in their free hand. “Luckily, it’s a move I’ve already seen before.”

The rune on the back of her hand glowed, and the tip of the arrow in her grip was inches from her nose. Despite that, the look on Bazett Fraga McRemitz’s face was determined and confident.

“This isn’t like you, Chloe von Einzbern,” she said, tossing the imitation of a Noble Phantasm aside. “I didn’t figure you for the kind to do something like this.”

“Souichirou-sama!”

Teleporting to Kuzuki’s side was Caster, draping her Master with her huge purple cloak. Whispering something into her Master’s ear, the Servant melted into the shadows, taking her Master along with her.

“Wait-” Bazett began, but a sudden jolt of pain interrupted her sentence. In all likelihood, she was going to try despite her condition to slam Caster’s face in, but the strain from catching Kuro’s arrow on her already exhausted body was taking its toll.

“W-who’re you?” Shirou asked. At this stage, however, he was likely to accept whatever she said regardless of how ridiculous it sounded. Especially after seeing her catch Kuro’s arrow with her bare hands.

“That can wait,” Bazett replied, turning away from him. “You’re Illyasviel’s older brother from the beach, are you not? I’ll explain later; stopping Chloe comes first.”

The beach? Shirou wondered. Ah… she must be one of Illya’s friends. Wait; why am I accepting all this so readily?

“Stop…”

The trembling in her voice broke his train of thought. It was a tone that he had heard from Illya, but never from this girl. He found it harder to believe that the girl in front of him was actually Kuro – the strong-willed, confident Kuro who had kicked his ass so many times during their training.

“Stop… Please…” she whispered, but her body struggled against those words. An invisible force was invading every fiber of her being, and from the look in her eyes she was close to losing to it.

“Mental manipulation…?” Bazett assessed. “No, it’s too sloppy… Possession?”

“No… no…” Kuro’s eyes widened, her body jerked, and then collapsed right to the ground. Like a puppet with its strings crudely snapped, she simply crashed onto the rubble.

“Ku-”

A loud crunching sound erupted behind Kuro, sending up a large cloud of dust and debris. Bazett instantly took up a combat stance, but Shirou recognized the glow of the mysterious comet just before it plummeted into the stone.

“Illya-san, are you okay?!” Ruby’s voice cried out as the dust settled, revealing an extremely wounded Illya. “That strike was serious! You shouldn’t have tried to block it!”

“I know…” Illya coughed. “B-but… I couldn’t… I don’t know…”

“Illya! Are you okay?” Shirou said, rushing to her side as Bazett tended to Kuro. “What happened?!”

“That… thing…” Illya panted. It was only then that Shirou realized that she was trembling. Violently. “It just… sent out something. I-I tried to block it, but…”

A trickle of blood ran down her forehead. The hand that gripped her new wand was shaking so badly it was a wonder she could still hold on to it. The last time Shirou had seen her that terrified, she had been crying into his arms. It had been an unspoken responsibility of his to make sure she did not end up like that again, but he knew he had failed.

The girl before him was delicate. Fragile. She was innocent, like how a child her age should be, and that innocence was coming close to being completely shattered. All because of this battle he had been dragged into.

Who could he blame? He had not asked for any of this, but he had decided to fight. He was the Hero of Justice, the supposed ‘older brother’ of this little girl thrown into a chaos she was not prepared for. He was a Master. A magus. And at this point in time, yet again, he was completely powerless.

And no matter how much he cursed it, he simply could not change that fact.

-

“As if one faker was not enough.”

No one was there to hear his words, but the oldest King spoke in a clear voice as though addressing a subject. His scarlet irises regarded the dark shadow circling the night air with interest, almost as if he was looking at a rare animal.

He had seen the dog belonging to that mongrel Kotomine mentored. Not only was he a sorry excuse of a Heroic Spirit, his very existence was an insult to the concept of heroes. Mongrels he could tolerate; they were everywhere and even the most skilled gardener could not weed them all out. Commoners were less so, but he was magnanimous enough to accept their existence; every culture had their share of the ignorant, and if those ignorant of the might of a true King and hero decided to extol one of their own, it was inevitable that one of them would rise to a status unbefitting of them. If anything, it was only natural; everyone would want to be even a step closer to the King after all.

But fakers were another matter. Ignorance could be forgiven since it was a trait of the mongrels, but to understand that one was a faker and still embrace it was unforgiveable. The vermin guilty of that would be put down by the King personally, not because they deserve such treatment (on the contrary, his treasures would be sullied by such an act), but because it was that grave of an offense.

And that mass of black flying around the air was surely a faker as well. It certainly attempted to give off the aura of a King – of the one and only King of Heroes, in fact – but there was something else about it that he could not quite place. There was something about that black mass that even the King of Heroes could not comprehend, and that was impossible.

He had seen the object it used to attack the mongrel magus with the bright wings (the Einzbern doll that stole Kotomine’s dog, as he recalled). It was shot out of nowhere like an arrow, and there was something about that ‘arrow’ that intrigued him.

It was, without a doubt, a Noble Phantasm. Not only that, it was a Noble Phantasm that could only have belonged to one person, and he was standing right here. There was no doubt as to its authenticity, but that was impossible; that would mean the black mass flying up there was…

“What are you?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the thing whose presence he had been feeling since the start of the Holy Grail War.

And then, without warning, all hell broke loose.

-

The first clash shook the air and lit up the night like a firework. It was sudden and violent, and just as the spark from the collision began to fade another blossomed across the night sky. The sky above Fuyuki was lit with countless brilliant flowers, each erupting with enough force to blow away Ryuudou Temple.

Seemingly out of nowhere, numerous Noble Phantasms were fired into each other, shattering as they collided with the force of a million armies. The very air was torn asunder in the exchange, and then bathed in the glimmer of countless gold specks.

“Hoh,” Gilgamesh smirked. He sounded amused, but there was no trace of mirth in his eyes. “You not only attempt to pass yourself off as a hero, you dare to break my treasures?”

Several golden ripples blossomed around the Golden King, revealing the tips of swords, lances and axes lying in the center of each one. Each weapon was a Noble Phantasm – a treasure worthy of defining a hero’s mythos. But for the oldest of Kings, they were nothing more than a part of his boundless collection.

The black mass soaring across the sky responded in kind, producing more shadowy shapes from its body. The shapes, like the ‘arrows’ at the King’s disposal, were of swords, lances and axes. The flying shadow, despite being nothing more than an embodiment of pure rage, had intended to match every weapon in the King’s treasury.

“Impressive, mongrel!” the Golden King laughed, his irises mad with anger despite his words. “Your impudence truly knows no bounds! To think you’d fail to realize your folly even now!”

A seemingly infinite number of golden ripples danced across the air, filling the space above Fuyuki with their radiant glow. From the viewpoint of a mere mortal on the ground, it was as if the sun itself had descended upon the earth. Such was the unmatchable might of a King, of the greatest of Heroic Spirits.

Such was the power of the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh.

Against the radiance that drowned out the glow of the moon, the moon itself vanished. The dark shadow overhead let out a single bestial roar, and mere moments later its shadowy weapons blocked out all light from above. In order to match the King’s endless armory, it too produced countless Noble Phantasms cloaked in its vile shadow, obscuring the moon with its black canvas.

It was foolish to even think of counting the number of weapons. It was ridiculous to wonder how far the golden ripples and murky shadows stretched. It was inevitable to think of escape upon witnessing such a spectacle, but even that was foolish; in the face of such power, there was simply no escape.

“Holy… Grail…”

The Eighth Class Card seethed, muttering the only words it knew. Those were the only words important to it, for it was this ‘Holy Grail’ that defined it. It was this very prize alone that mattered. And now, a single obstacle stood in its way. An obstacle covered in gold, and an obstacle it could not fully comprehend. But it mattered not; if it had to obliterate this obstacle, then it would do so, even if it had to bring down heaven itself.

And so it screamed. It let loose a roar without words, without meaning but one: to annihilate anything and everything in its way. And in response to its one command, one simple action occurred.

The sky fell.

-

Millions of pitch-black swords, enough to swarm the night sky and drown out the moon, flooded down to crush the miserable vermin below with its mighty cascade. With a single command, the shadow had summoned forth a monolithic cloudburst of jet-black malice, roaring with fury and teeming with bloodlust.

In response, the Golden King merely waved a hand.

Countless pillars of blinding gold light shot forth from their dazzling ripples, tearing through the night to meet the incoming cascade of blades. Each individual weapon carried with it the wrath and power of the eldest of Kings, capable of eradicating any target upon contact.

The shadows fell, and the lights rose. It was but a fleeting moment, but in the eyes of all who were present to bear witness to the spectacle, that scene was carved forever into their minds. It lasted merely a moment, and then it happened: the rising golden lights met the rain of shadows.

As the infinite number of weapons collided, their sparks erupted into grand explosions, incinerating the darkness of the night and setting the very skies aflame. All scenery vanished, and blinding light swallowed up the sky. It was the cacophony of true war, of true power, and in the minutes it took for the explosions to die down, the battlefield above Fuyuki was the very image of chaos, each second lasting an eternity and every moment a frame of utter destruction.

In the wake of the exchange of Kings, the heavens bled shards of glimmering silver and gold; like diamond dust wafting through the gaps in the clouds, the remnants of countless broken Noble Phantasms rained down on Fuyuki. It was an almost tranquil moment, after the violent howl of battle unleashed just seconds before.

But the tranquility would not last. With another mighty bellow, the sky overhead began to shake, and in the shadow of the clouds descended a grand shadow that once again eclipsed the moon.

At first glance, it was some sort of building or perhaps a fallen chunk of the sky itself. But as it continued to fall, it became evident that the giant mass was a sword – a sword that could level an entire landscape with a single swing.

It was a Noble Phantasm befitting its name: Ig-Alima, the Mountain Felling Sword.

“Such an unsightly display.”

In the face of such an awe-inspiring weapon, the King of Heroes merely spoke thus.

“A King’s treasury is not some commoner’s toolshed,” he said. “To bring out just one weapon to demonstrate one’s wealth is no different from a beggar flaunting his rice bowl. To show such a pathetic display before me… you truly amuse me, mongrel.”

Several golden ripples opened up, and in an instant the gigantic sword was stopped in its tracks and suspended in mid-air. Binding it and holding it in place, however, was what appeared to be a single golden chain that looked insignificant by comparison.

“What will you do now, you filthy cur?” the King challenged.

Almost as though it heard those words, the mass of shadow stretched out a single hand. Before the King could even speak another scathing comment, a very familiar-looking chain shot out of the murky palm.

Ig-Alima melted into the shadows, and the now-free chain that was Enkidu clashed with what appeared to be an identical replica of it above the streets of Fuyuki. Like two hungry snakes, the chains danced, slithering around and slamming into each other in attempt to break the other. It was an almost tame display compared to the clash of countless weapons earlier, but the air around the King of Heroes was now very different.

“… You would dare to mock me like this, vermin?” he muttered, the very air around him shaking as the King’s anger threatened to erupt. “Had it simply been a simple act of trying to mimic the King, ending your pathetic existence would have barely sufficed. But you would even mock my friend…”

Every golden rippled faded into nothing. In their place, a single golden ripple appeared before the King of Heroes.

“… Rejoice, vermin,” he said, as a single golden handle appeared from the ripple and rested in his hand. “For I shall now wipe out every last trace of your existence with a treasure far beyond what you deserve.”

The weapon in his hand was not something that seemed feasible as a sword of any kind. Its blade was more of a cylindrical pillar of sorts, which made it impossible for it to slice anything. But that was of no concern; it was the penultimate Noble Phantasm, and the pinnacle of all Divine Constructs in existence.

“Behold, scum,” Gilgamesh announced. “This is what it means to incur the wrath of the King of all of heaven and earth!”

As the segments of the ‘blade’ began to spin, the air around the Golden King screamed. There was nothing in all of existence that could match this sword, and even the space around him shook in the presence of its force.

“… Annihilate…”

The air screeched once more, but this time it was the air around the giant black shadow in the sky. The Eighth Class Card, for the first time, ascended further into the sky and charged towards the King of Heroes. However, it was not blindly flying towards him; the shadow, too, held a similar looking ‘sword’ in its hand that was tearing across the space around it.

The skies screamed. The earth screeched. The world, in that single visceral instant, shook violently, struggling to keep itself intact as it braced itself for the impending clash of unmatched Divine Constructs.

At the same time, the shadow and the King of Heroes hollered the same, unmistakable name:

“Enuma Elish!”

Chapter Text

“… Hey, Ruby? W-what on earth is happening?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea either,” Ruby replied. “But at the very least, it would seem like someone else is engaging the black shadow.”

Illya wondered if ‘engage’ was really the right word. Sure, whoever was shooting an uncountable number of beams at the black thing was technically fighting it, but to use ‘engage’ was an understatement.

In all honesty, the two sides were waging an all-out war.

“I-isn’t this kind of bad?” Illya asked. She was not entirely thrilled at the aspect of fighting that black shadow, especially not after it had knocked her out of the sky so easily, but there was no telling just how catastrophic this battle could turn out to be. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

“It’d be wiser to stay out of it,” Sapphire replied. “This isn’t at the level where we can just jump in thoughtlessly.”

On a personal level, Illya agreed. Even if it were Miyu, she would likely say the same thing. She understood that this was a battle beyond their abilities, but at the same time she could not help but feel like she should step in.

And when the skies started screeching, she knew she had to act.

She did not know much about magecraft, Servants and Masters or any of those things. She knew next to nothing about Noble Phantasms, so it was difficult for her to appreciate the quality of the ‘arrows’ being fired across the skies. But no matter how ignorant she was, even she could tell that something was definitely wrong when space itself started to bend.

“There’s… no way…”

However, Illya’s excitement was not shared by the rest of her companions. One by one, the stronger fighters on her team were brought down to their knees just by being in the general vicinity of that overwhelming pressure and magical energy.

“That’s impossible,” Bazett, otherwise known as the ‘Berserker woman’, gasped as her fists shook. Her face was pale as sheet – a color Illya had never seen on her face before. “That amount of magical energy is too ridiculous…”

The air was torn asunder by a ghastly screech, as though even the earth itself was screaming in pain. Two bright spiraling vortexes were ripping everything apart, and their fury would be unleashed at any moment. And yet, even while she understood that, Illya could not move her shaky limbs.

“Ruby-” she began, but her own legs gave in, as a thin line of blood trickled down her forehead. “Ugh…!”

The pain was more than she could bear. She knew that much. And yet, at the same time, the pain had cleared her head. Sometimes, in the middle of a crisis, a single moment was enough to change the course of destiny.

“You can’t keep this up, Illya-san!” Ruby insisted. “Your body is already at its limit! The energy output of Zwei Forme is-”

“Hey, Ruby.”

Amidst the screeching maelstrom of unstoppable mana, was a single girl’s soft, low voice.

“You once said that… you and Sapphire could supply a virtually limitless amount of mana to your wielder, right?”

“… Yes, that’s true,” Ruby replied reluctantly. “But there’s a limit to how much magical energy a person’s body can handle at any point in time, which limits our actual output.”

“But, I’ve been managing much more power than usual in this form, right?”

“T-that’s because-!”

“Illya-san,” Sapphire interjected. “What you’re thinking of is too risky. Your body is already in terrible shape; it won’t be able to handle any more.”

“… Why is that?” Illya asked, her knees almost buckling under her weight as she attempted to stand. “The battle with Caster… this form… Why am I able to handle so much mana this time?”

“… That’s because,” Ruby answered slowly. “In addition the normal magic circuits, every part of Illya-san’s body is made to act as pseudo-magic circuits. Muscles, blood vessels, nerves… Everything. That’s why you’re able to handle so much mana at once. However, it’s also why you’re in so much pain right now, and why your body is at its limit despite taking no damage in that form.”

“… I see. Then, that means we can produce an attack that has nearly an infinite amount of mana, right?”

“That’s impossible,” Sapphire replied. “Even if your capacity is above that of an average magus, Illya-sama, your body can’t handle it. You will…”

“It’s okay, Sapphire,” Illya said. Her voice was gentle, her tone confident, but it was able to drown out, ever so briefly, the chaos of the war raging above them. In that moment, her voice was all that existed. “It’s okay, Ruby. We don’t have a choice. You know that.”

“W-wait…!”

Clutching a particularly bad wound on his stomach, Shirou hobbled over, regarding his supposed sister from another dimension with a strange look in his eyes. Had she ever seen her real brother make that face before?

“What’re you trying to do, Illya?” he asked, but he knew he could not stop her. He, too, was wounded and above all else, his body was responding to the catastrophe unfolding before their eyes. Every cell in his body was quaking with fear. Even the lady who had jumped in and caught Kuro’s arrow with one hand was afraid.

But on Illya’s face – on the face of a mere child who had cried in his arms – there was a brave, albeit shaky smile.

Maybe it was her naïveté. Maybe it was her ignorance. But in that moment, it was that lack of understanding of the magnitude of the situation that gave Illya the strength to stand. Maybe it was because she did not understand the difference in their powers, that she was able to challenge it.

“Don’t worry, onii-chan,” she said, her lips quivering from the effort to form that rigid smile. “I-I mean, Shirou-san. “But I’ll be right back, so could you take care of Miyu and Kuro for me?”

And with that, the Magical Girl flew.

-

It hurts.

She soared through the air, gliding on her wings of light. A million needles forced their way into every pore of her body, digging their way past her flesh and into her bones.

It hurts so much I want to cry.

“Ruby, Sapphire, continue charging,” she said, tasting something coppery on her tongue as the two sources of unfathomable magical power unleashed their attack. “We have to protect everyone from whatever shockwaves that creates.”

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fight.

The world lit up as the two roaring bursts of energy collided, shaking all of creation and rupturing the fabric of space. It was a sight too majestic for words, too terrible for one to even feel fear.

But I have to protect them. I have to protect them.

The giant burst of energy fired from the earth and towards the sky began pushing back the one fired from the sky, forcing back the mass of black shadow. Even amongst everything that was going on, she could hear the shadow screaming against the force it could never hope to defeat.

I have to protect everyone.

The blast incinerated the shadow, and the resulting explosion sent huge shockwaves across the sky. They flew overhead, they disappeared into the distance, they cleaved apart the clouds across the horizon. Then one came right at her.

“It’s coming, Illya-san!”

So if it means I can protect them…

“Charge at full power, Illya-sama!”

Then I don’t care. Muscle, blood, lymph, nerves… Use all of me.

“We’re pushing it back, Ruby! Sapphire!”

Warm liquid coursed down her cheeks. It was thick, and it hurt her eyes, but she had no time to dwell on that. A giant sphere of pure light gathered at the tip of her wand, and with each passing second she could feel her body going numb.

I can’t lose… I won’t lose!

“Quintet Fire!”

The light left the tip of her wand, soaring towards the incoming shockwave. Her eyelids began to force themselves shut, even before her attack connected, and all of a sudden she just felt so sleepy.

Hey, Illya-san.

She felt like she was drifting somewhere. Somehow, her mind was blank and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Aren’t you scared? For us, we are spirits, so we can’t ‘die’ in the same way humans can. But why is it that in such a situation, you aren’t scared at all?

She smiled. She did not know why, and she did not know how she knew, but she knew that she was smiling just then.

Of course I am, Ruby. I’ve been scared to death since the start of this whole thing and I’m still terrified now. But I know that if I don’t do something, everybody will die. So it doesn’t matter even if I can’t understand just how powerful the enemy is or something like that. I can only push forward… so I can protect everyone. Because…

An image fluttered into view. In her mind’s eye, she could see a beautiful white forest, and a single child with crimson stains across her pristine dress.

And at the tip of that child’s white fingers, was her fortress. Her defender. Her friend.

Because I know now… just how painful it is to be alone.

The last thing she saw was her beam of light, crashing violently against the shockwave and scattering it into the wind. But that was all she saw, for in the next instant, all sound vanished.

For a moment, there was a bright light, but even that too was eventually swallowed up by pitch-black darkness.

-

“Illyasviel!”

The girl in question was falling from the sky, and from the way her body was still, Bazett knew she was not going to break her fall by herself.

Despite her injuries, the Enforcer broke into a sprint, attempting to somehow cover the distance in time to catch the falling girl. However, just as she took her first steps, a scarlet shadow leapt into view and caught Illya safely in its arms.

Landing gently in front of Bazett, Archer laid a badly wounded Illya on the ground. His own clothes were badly tattered and he was only using one hand, but if he was feeling any pain his face did not betray it.

“Who are you?” Bazett asked. “Are you an ally?”

“Definitely not,” Archer replied crisply. “Whoever you are, you can rest assured I’m not an ally of-”

“Wait a minute,” Bazett said, cutting across him. “You’re… the Archer Class Card!”

“The what-”

Before Archer could even get his question out of his mouth, Bazett leapt at him, her fist aimed straight at his heart. It was an impressive speed, not only for an injured person but also for a human being in general.

Archer, however, caught the fist with one hand.

“Wait,” he said, sounding rather annoyed. “I have no idea what kind of misunderstanding you’re having right now, but don’t you have other things to do? She’s hurt pretty badly, you know?”

“Ruby… smash!”

Without warning, the crimson comet that was Kaleidostick Ruby rammed at the back of Archer’s head- or where Archer’s head would have been, had he not dodged out of the way. Instead, the Magical Wand of Love and Justice buried itself in Bazett’s face instead.

As if things couldn’t get more complicated, Archer resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Illya-san!” Ruby yelled, dislodging herself from the crater she made in Bazett’s face and flying straight to Illya, who was unconscious but still breathing. “Illya-san, please say something!”

“She’s alive, nee-san,” Sapphire said, having taken the more orderly approach and floated gently to Illya without any antics. “But this doesn’t look very good.”

“Agreed,” Archer butt in. “If you want to save her, I’d suggest getting her some help immediately. Unless you intend to waste more time and effort getting beat up by me?”

“… Understood,” Bazett muttered. “I will let this slide for now. However, if you try anything-”

“I won’t,” Archer said, sounding extremely annoyed. “Even like this, I’m still a Heroic Spirit, you know. I have my standards-”

“Hey! Brat!”

Can someone ever finish a sentence here? Archer wondered, leaping away a good distance from the new intruder. And distance was important, considering said intruder was a foe he had fought once before.

“Oi, Archer!” Lancer barked, his crimson lance at the ready. Unlike Archer, however, he was nearly unscathed. “What the heck’s going on here? Explain yourself!”

“There’s not much to explain, Lancer,” Archer replied. This night was already terrible enough without having to deal with all this, and now it was getting worse. “She fell from the sky and I caught her, that’s all. Your friend over there tried to kill me for some reason and that’s when you showed up.”

“My friend-” Lancer turned to the direction Archer indicated, and froze. “… Bazett?”

“Class Card… Lancer?” Bazett hissed, backing away from the blue Servant and clutching her fists. “So there’s more than one here…?”

“Is that really you, Bazett?” Lancer asked, unable to believe what he was seeing. “But I thought you… back then…”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Bazett asked, looking from Lancer to Archer. “How did you manage to manifest yourselves-”

No, she told herself. That’s not important right now. What’s important is defeating them, then getting Illyasviel to safety.

“Wait wait wait! Time out! Time out!” Ruby yelled, using her wings to grab Bazett’s cheeks to force the Enforcer to look at her. “There’s a misunderstanding here, but he’s not who you think he is! That’s not the Class Card, Bazett-san!”

“Lancer-sama,” Sapphire said calmly, floating over to the spearman. “While I do not understand the situation that well, it would appear that you have mistaken this person for someone else. She is Bazett Fraga McRemitz, and she is a resident of our world. That is to say, she’s from the same parallel world that Illya-sama, Miyu-sama and Kuro-sama come from.”

“… So then…” Lancer said, looking more crestfallen as he processed that information. He was not beyond accepting facts like that anymore, particularly not after hearing about his current Master’s background. “She’s not… the Bazett of this world?”

Deep down, he understood that. He knew that there was no way Bazett could still be alive, for he had seen her die. His original and only Master, the Bazett Fraga McRemitz of this world, was no longer a part of it anymore. And no matter how much he prayed, that result was not going to change.

“Oh?” Ruby said, looking up with interest at Archer, who had been standing there throughout the entire exchange. “You’re still here? You’re all done here, so you can go now~”

… I kind of understand why Rin wants that thing destroyed so much now, Archer thought, feeling his eyelids twitch. In truth, he had stayed because he was worried about Illya, but it looked like it was no longer his concern; if the two sticks recognized that Bazett woman to be an ally, then Illya was in good hands.

“Of course, I have every intention of leaving,” he said. “However, I’m not sure if that spearman over there would just let me leave quietly.”

“Don’t spout nonsense, Archer,” Lancer snapped, his voice regaining some of his usual vigor. “Like I’d battle you when you’re in a condition like that.”

“Such generosity,” Archer smirked, turning to leave. “Then allow me to take my leave.”

Distant footsteps reached his ears. Someone was approaching, and at the pace they were moving, it was a single human. Definitely not a Servant, and unlikely to be a Master. It was no threat, especially not with Lancer and the brawler lady over there, but Archer, inexplicably, let his curiosity get the better of him and looked in the direction of the approaching steps.

And when he did, he froze dead in his tracks.

“Illya!”

Bright silver hair that shined in the moonlight. Beautiful porcelain skin and glistening ruby eyes. She was an Einzbern homunculus, and at first glance Archer had thought it was another Illya, just more grown up somehow. In that fraction of a second when he processed that image, his frantic mind produced a sliver of hope, that maybe this was an Illya from a parallel world where she was able to grow into an adult. But the next moment, he knew that they were different people.

As the image of the approaching homunculus sank in, he realized that she was someone else entirely. But throughout his own life, he had never once heard Illya mention someone from the Einzberns other than Leysritt and Sella, and he had never seen a homunculus besides the three of them. So if this one knew Illya, then could she possibly be…

As he struggled to come to terms with the reality before him, the homunculus known as Irisviel von Einzbern ran right past him.

-

Her legs were heavy, and her body sluggish. Her mind was blank, and her thoughts a hazy cluster of noise and static. Something else was in control, moving her limbs and pushing her ahead.

The shadows of the trees by her side shook as she passed, backing away from whatever she was just then. Light abhorred her presence, shirking away from her as she walked ahead without vision.

She knew where to go, but it was not her decision. She knew where she had to be, even if she did not know why. But it knew, and that was enough.

It did not take long for her to find it. She knew where it was, after all. It had called out to it, and the object in turn had called out to her. To it.

A slender hand stretched out into the darkness, reaching for the tiny object resting innocently atop the grass. It was still, harmless, and yet it had called her here.

Matou Sakura looked at the object resting in her fingers. It did not look like it was anything special, but that somehow did not bother her. Just then, her thoughts were not her own, and her actions were not her own. Nothing was hers – not even the vessel that was her body.

She looked again at the thin, light card held in her fingers. It had fallen from the sky – from way up there after it had been defeated. This was all that remained of that formidable force, and whatever was left of it was now calling out to the thing insider her.

She could feel something stirring inside her body. Something was resonating with the card she held in her hand, and her human mind wished to throw it away, to destroy it somehow. She knew it was dangerous, and that she had to stay as far away from it as possible.

But she could not, for the person here right now was not ‘Matou Sakura’. Right now, there was nothing about her that could be considered hers.

Not even her soul itself.

Obeying the will of the thing inside her, the vessel whose name was Matou Sakura spoke a simple word, the meaning of which even she could not understand:

“Install.”

Chapter Text

Saber could feel her body tumbling down the stairs leading to Ryuudou Temple well before she processed the wound. Hastily getting to her feet and readying her weapon, the King of Britain took a moment to assess her situation.

She had been intending on finishing Assassin with a well-timed counter, relying on the force of her blow to push back his sword. Everything had gone according to plan – their swords had met, and she had without a doubt unleashed her killing blow – but the one who ended up unscathed was Assassin.

What’s the meaning of this? She thought to herself. I was sure I could have finished him off with that exchange. Our swords definitely clashed, so what on Earth…?

It had not been an issue of misjudging her distance or the enemy’s strength. In truth, Saber’s assessment of Assassin’s abilities had been correct. Her only miscalculation, however, had been Assassin’s hidden trump card.

“Most impressive,” Assassin said, unable to suppress a smile as he waited for Saber to charge at him again. “I was supposed to have taken your head with that exchange, but your instincts are certainly sharp.”

“… I see,” Saber moved her shoulder a little, as though checking the extent of the damage. “Was that your Noble Phantasm, Assassin?”

“I wonder,” Assassin replied, the smirk not slipping off his face. “I’m no hero, so I don’t have anything fancy like that, I’m afraid. But… if I had to call it something, it would be something similar to a Noble Phantasm, I suppose.”

“Impossible,” Saber said. “Are you telling me that blow from earlier wasn’t a unique attack from your sword?”

Even though she was unable to discern the true nature of that move, Saber understood its effects: by some form of magic or illusion, Assassin had been able to produce three blades in the instance of their exchange, hitting Saber and forcing her to retreat before she could finish him off.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have some fancy weapon like that,” Assassin shrugged his shoulders in good humour, almost sounding bitter about his humble arsenal. “There’s nothing really special about this sword, Saber. That move you’re fretting over right now, it’s nothing more than a simple technique I’ve spent my entire life perfecting.”

In the face of Saber’s expression, Assassin lowered his sword and continued.

“Have you ever tried cutting down a swallow in flight, Saber?” Assassin mused. “They’re swift little creatures, so it’s nigh impossible to achieve such a feat in a single stroke. If one wished to accomplish such a feat, one would have to unleash a second slash at the same time. But even if you could pull that off, it would not suffice, so you would have to add a third slash in order to accomplish the task. Do you get what I’m saying now, Saber?”

“… I understand,” Saber replied. “However, what you’re suggesting is not something achievable by any means, Assassin.”

“Indeed,” Assassin conceded. “It’s not a technique that can be perfected under normal circumstances, but I had a lot of time on my hands, you see. And since I had nothing else to do… I eventually managed to complete what no one else could.”

Saber processed the swordsman’s words. After facing a move like that, she had no choice but to accept the truth of his claims; despite her unwillingness to do so, Saber had to admit that Assassin simply outclassed her as a swordsman.

But then, how was it possible for his sword to be this empty?

“I accept your claims, Assassin,” Saber declared. “However, allow me to ask you one question.”

Assassin raised an eyebrow. She had been so adamant on getting past him as quickly as possible until just moments before, but she was much calmer now. But instead of pointing it out, he simply raised an eyebrow, wordlessly telling her to continue.

“I now understand that you’re a swordsman worthy of much praise and respect,” Saber said. “A technique such as yours is one befitting of a truly admirable warrior. Surely you must have poured your entire life into your swordsmanship in order to reach such a level. And yet… why is it that I can feel no pride from your blade?”

Assassin considered her words. Like the blue-haired Servant from before, she had a proud gaze in her eyes that refused to waver. There was an unshakable faith in their beliefs present in their voices, and that was what allowed them to say such things without hesitation.

And that was why they could demand such things of others, never realising there could exist people like himself.

“It’s as you said, Saber,” Assassin conceded. “I did pour my entire life into perfecting this technique. However, that is precisely why I am empty. You asked me why I have no pride in it, Saber. Then let me ask you this in return: for what reason did you pick up your sword in life?”

“Of course, it is to protect my beloved homeland,” Saber answered without hesitation. The confidence in her voice was breath-taking, even if she was his enemy.

“That’s a noble cause,” Assassin said, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “And as the celebrated King of Britain, you were acknowledged by those around you, were you not? As a king and as a warrior for your people, you were extolled by those who served you, were you not? You practiced your swordsmanship for their sake, and they answered your efforts with their affirmation. You should surely take pride in that, for that is what makes you a Heroic Spirit.

“But consider this, King of Britain: what affirmation can there be for someone who devotes his life solely to the sword, and nothing else?”

Descending the stairs in a slow gait, Assassin looked into Saber’s eyes with a sharp gaze he had not been wearing before. It was a fierce gaze, but it was not one of resentment; rather, there was something akin to desperation in his voice, as though he wished to hear her answer no matter what.

“I devoted my life to the way of the sword,” Assassin went on. “I did not do it for any one person, much less for an entire country like you did. So who will affirm my existence and my efforts? As you said, my entire life has culminated into this technique. But Saber, all that means is that my entire existence may as well be just this technique alone. There is no “me” in a life like that.”

A soft breeze blew by the staircase, but it was no ordinary breeze; as though responding to Assassin’s question, the mysterious wind around Saber’s blade had dispelled itself, revealing a sword of shining gold.

“I understand your sword now, Assassin- no, Sasaki Kojiro,” Saber declared. “However, allow me to say one thing: As a fellow Heroic Spirit, I will not permit you to sully your own skills in that way.”

Assassin could not help but betray his surprise at those words. Of all the things he had expected her to say, that had not been one of them.

“After exchanging blows with you, I understand that you are truly a formidable foe,” Saber said, raising her sword of light. “I respect that unparalleled swordsmanship which I can never hope to achieve. That is why, I cannot accept that you do not take pride in those skills.”

Readjusting her stance, Saber readied her body for her next blow. Assassin, however, did not move from his spot.

“The technique that you’ve spent your entire life perfecting… it is truly a sight to behold,” Saber said. “That is why the technique itself is an affirmation to your existence, is it not? If you are the only one who can wield it, then surely… that itself is a testament to your existence and your prowess. That is why I cannot allow anyone to speak ill of such a warrior, even if that man is yourself.”

There were no lies in her words, nor any pretence in her tone. This was a woman whose spirit is surely unbreakable, and thus her decree absolute. In the face of her words, Assassin could not help but curl his lips into a smile.

I think I finally understand now, he thought. Just why it is that I enjoyed fighting you so much, Saber.

Reassuming his fighting stance, Assassin raised his nameless sword. Staring him down with a look of defiance and confidence, was a king with a sword whose name was known far and wide.

And as a show of gratitude, I will carve your words and your life onto my blade!

The screech of metal meeting metal shook the air, as Saber’ and Assassin’s swords clashed atop the steps to the temple. Sparks danced against the tranquillity of night, as Saber’s sword drew paths of light in its wake.

The trails left by their weapons cut into the space around them, meeting and repelling each other with every exchange. Neither side was willing to yield, sending echoes of their fleeting blows dissipating into the night before new shrieks took their place.

Against the blinding light of Saber’s sword, Assassin’s let off a dim glow; in the absence of moonlight, all it could do was reflect the light from Saber’s weapon. But even though its glow was dim, the strength behind its blows was anything but weak.

And upon the face of the man behind that weak glow, was an unmistakable smile.

Surely, to this woman, this is what swordsmanship was meant to be. For her, the clashing of swords was a clash of wills, a baring of their souls where both sides put their lives on the line. It was surely glamorous and noble, but it was not a world fit for someone like him.

And yet there he was, carving his own existence into the blade of a king, into the swordsmanship of a true king and hero.

In that aspect, he was probably similar to Rider’s Master. In the end, maybe he too, had just simply been looking for some form of affirmation – something to give his existence meaning. Maybe he had been dependent on someone else for that meaning, and maybe he still was.

But in that moment, as their swords danced in the cold night air, none of that mattered anymore.

Backing away from Saber and her powerful blows, Asssassin ascended the steps until he was at the gate of Ryuudou temple, relinquishing his advantageous position. Against an opponent like Saber, that was a fatal mistake, but Assassin was no fool; he knew that in order for his secret technique to succeed this time, he had to use it on a level surface, even if it meant abandoning all other options.

Saber, likewise, understood Assassins intentions, but rose to the challenge nonetheless. She was a proud warrior, so using cheap tricks was something that never crossed her mind. If she were to fall here, then it would just mean she was not strong enough. Regrettable as it was, she would just have to accept that fact.

With that in mind, and with her own life on the line, Arturia Pendragon readied her entire being to receive his attack.

“Hiken – Tsubame Gaeshi!”

The air went silent, still. For a single instant, the world had paused in its tracks, holding its breath as the two swordsmen exchanged their final blows. And even as time began to move once more, nothing happened for a good long while.

What broke the silence, was the unmistakable sound of metal falling against the stone steps.

Saber stared in wide-eyed disbelief as bright red crimson gushed from Assassin’s chest, where the bronze tip of a spear protruded. Neither of them had made a move yet; the weapon that had pierced him had been fired from somewhere far off, by an unseen assailant.

-

“Hmph, to think that you would make the King sully his treasure on the body of a mere phantom,” the King of Heroes muttered. “It would seem that you’re still as troublesome as ever, Saber.”

With a look of disinterest, Gilgamesh turned back to gazing at the mountain where the strange presence had been emanating from. Educating his bride could wait; he had something more interesting to deal with at the moment.

-

“Go,” Assassin said. “You have to help your Master, don’t you?”

“It’s your victory, Sasaki Kojiro,” Saber said, lowering her weapon and turning towards the gate. The expression on her face was unreadable. “Go with your head held high.”

Without looking back at her opponent, Saber rushed past the gate. Assassin, rather than giving chase, walked over to the steps and sat down.

“Surely you jest,” he said to no one in particular. “From the very beginning, being able to ‘die’… was my greatest triumph.”

Perhaps this was the punishment for one who sought things beyond his reach. Perhaps this was retribution for someone aspiring towards something he did not deserve. Whatever it was, there was no denying that he had no means of rejecting that decision.

“Worry not, Saber. For this is an end befitting a nameless shadow like myself.”

As he said those words, a bitter smile formed on his bloody lips. Had this happened with anyone else before this, he surely would not have felt any regret; he had been summoned a spirit, and he would die as one. There was nothing wrong with that. And yet…

Still… I wish it didn’t have to end this way.

A distant breeze blew. The clouds shifted across the sky. From the tiniest of gaps between those clouds, gentle beams of moonlight peeked through, illuminating the steps he sat on.

“Ah… I can’t see the moon tonight either.”

Illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, the Servant Assassin faded into the wind.

Chapter Text

Illyasviel was wide awake in Someone Else’s dream.

Unfamiliar laughter filled her ears. Unknown faces flooded her vision. She was a pair of floating eyes, watching a movie about Someone Else’s happiness.

“Illya-san, did you oversleep again? I bet you were up all night reading manga, weren’t you?”
Sella’s voice echoed in her – no, Someone Else’s – ears. There was a stern, insubordinate quality to her voice that Illyasviel could not understand. Sella was not capable of sounding like that.

“Mm…? What time is it?”

Someone Else’s voice, buried under a sleepy veil, thundered in Illyasviel’s ears. It was a child’s pitch, but it was a voice full of confidence, of hurt, of a glorious mission.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

But what escaped those lips that she could not control was a voice drowning in weakness. A weakness that was almost nostalgic.

“Geh! I’m going to be late!”

It was a voice full of carefree ignorance. It was a voice that deserved to be silenced, for she had no use for it. It was the same voice she had left behind ten years ago, in the field where walnut trees stood like tombstones upon the snow.

“I’m going off!”

A male’s voice commanded her attention, forcing her eyes to travel across the tiny room towards the door. There stood a man she loathed, a man whose existence had robbed her of her happiness.

But he wasn’t that person. He, too, was someone else. The look in his eyes, after all, belonged to another person, across another universe, in another time where impossible things happened.

“Wait, Onii-chan! Give me a ride to school!”

Joy. Excitement. Longing. Everything that Illyasviel would never direct at the auburn-haired man, or anyone else ever again for that matter, poured out of Someone Else’s mouth. There was something in that voice Illyasviel would dearly wish to crush, yet desperately clung onto at the same time.

Someone Else still had the lifeline, dangling over the precipice of no return. Someone Else still had yet to fall into the abyss in which no laughter existed. Someone Else’s hand still held the wish of Illyasviel von Einzbern.

But that was Someone Else. It was, and always would be, just Someone Else.

“Morning, Illya-chan~!”

The floating pair of eyes turned, tearing themselves away from the boy towards the source of that voice. That voice she had so sorely missed, since the day she left Illyasviel behind.

“Mama-”

-

Illyasviel woke to the sight of her own trembling hands. Her vision was slightly blurred, with strange colors swimming about before her eyes. A thin layer of heat spread across her pupils, robbing her of the ability to think or speak.

Pit, pat. Pit, pat.

Something was pecking at the back of her hands. Something small had collapsed against them, before sliding off her pale skin. Something wet and warm. Where it had come from, she had no idea.

“What was that…?” she muttered, her feeble voice dissipated by a passing breeze. “What’s happening…?”

Slowly getting to her feet, the young homunculus finally came to her senses. Before her was her invincible guardian – her unbeatable Servant Berserker. She was not in some dream, and she was not living out some fantasy; she was currently fulfilling her family’s purpose.

“Did you win, Berserker?” she asked, looking around for the remains of Tohsaka Rin and Archer. Even without Berserker’s reply (assuming he could reply in the first place), she already knew the answer. She had not felt any changes occur to her body, so the Servant had to still be alive. And if he was alive, so was Rin.

Illyasviel vaguely remembered the battle. Archer, like the third-rate Servant that he was, had been unable to even scratch Berserker. The battle had been utterly one-sided until Archer said some strange words.

“I am the bone of my sword.”

In an instant, the world had evaporated. Night turned to midday, and a large wasteland replaced the ground they had been standing on. The world had been replaced, swapped out with the image of someone else’s creation.

A Reality Marble. A projection of one’s internal landscape, capable of sealing off the normal ‘reality’ around the user. It was forbidden magecraft, and one that was considered close to being real magic. The creation of one in itself was not a significant feat if she considered Rin’s ability, but Illyasviel was sure it had not been the Tohsaka magus who had created that scenery.

It had been her Servant, Archer.

And in that space, he had achieved the impossible. With movements that he had not displayed before, Archer ended up taking two of Berserker’s lives before Berserker could land a hit himself. Just as Illyasviel started getting flustered, the Reality Marble erased itself, returning them to the nighttime landscape of Fuyuki.

In the end, it had only lasted a moment. Not that it mattered, since the world they just returned to was bearing witness to something much, much worse.

Illyasviel remembered the pillars of bright gold that ascended towards the heavens, erupting against the pitch-black squall that blocked out the moon. She remembered the panic in Tohsaka Rin’s eyes as she fled the battlefield, towards the source of the pandemonium.

The last thing she remembered was flash of bright pink, colliding against two world-eradicating forces. Then she dreamed. She dreamed Someone Else’s fantasy as the warm glow of the pink light washed over her.

That amount of prana… It’s not normal, Illyasviel assessed. Is she responsible…? No, she shouldn’t be able to do something like this… Did I let my guard down? Did she have help?

In the distance, the sound of something tearing could be heard. Somewhere beyond the sky, where two world-ending Noble Phantasms clashed, something was breaking apart. As the force from Gilgamesh’s Enuma Elish obliterated the black Servant, Illyasviel was sure she had seen a white crack form against the starry canvas. In any other situation, the whole phenomenon would have been worthy of attention, but at that moment all she could focus on was that beam of pink light.

It was definitely impressive from a magus’s point of view, and at best it would be able to compete with a regular Servant’s Noble Phantasm. But in this case, it was barely able to push back the shockwave caused by the collision of two Eas. Even with that amount of prana, Someone Else had just barely protected the city beneath them.

It’s definitely her, Illyasviel bit her lip, annoyed but unable to figure out why. It’s definitely her doing… But how?

Whether it had been intentional or not (and Illyasviel had a hard time thinking that girl was capable of doing anything intentionally), that pink beam had managed to reach all the way to where Illyasviel was, and had planted that weird dream in her head. What was the point of it? Why make her see an illusion in the middle of the fight like that? It simply did not make sense.

Just a few kilometers away, the sky was torn asunder by the collision of two world-crushing weapons. Even though the explosions had stopped, the aftermath of the clash between two Kings could still be felt in the air no matter where one hid. It had been a battle on a scale which Illyasviel herself had never seen before, and she was the Master of Berserker.

And yet, despite being in the presence of all that, Illyasviel’s attention was entirely directed at one simple, powerless child. A child whom she could not be sure was there, but was confident about her involvement all the same.

“Who are you…?” she asked, as the distant disaster settled into darkness. In the silence that followed, her voice dissolved into nothing, robbing her the reprieve of even her own verbal confidence. Not that she possessed any confidence at the moment.

“Who are you?” she asked again.

-

Illya was awake in Someone Else’s home.

To call it a ‘home’ was accurate, but a huge understatement. The place was a humongous castle with corridors that went on forever, with a world of eternal white beyond the windows. It was a place she had never set foot in before, yet filled her with a sense of nostalgia at the same time.

“Where am I?” she asked to no one in particular. The snowstorm outside the windows occasionally replied with a distant howl, as though the storm existed somewhere far off and not just beyond the planes of glass. “Hello?! Is anyone around?”

Her question bounced off the walls and disappeared down the endless hallway.

How did I end up here? She wondered, taking timid steps down the expensive looking corridor. I remember… that gold Servant and that… that black Servant… I merged Ruby and Sapphire, then… there was pain, and… I blacked out?

Why are you here?

A scream of surprise died in her throat before it could even emerge. Tripping over her own foot and falling face first onto the floor, Illya scrambled to her feet and looked around desperately for the source of that voice.

You should not be here right now.

She recognized the voice. If she just thought about it, Illya would recognize whose voice that was. But something was wrong; the chills she got from hearing that voice was something she should not be experiencing. Especially after everything she had been through.

It’s mama’s voice, she thought, her eyes tearing across the ceiling and walls in the hopes of finding Irisviel’s smiling face. But something’s wrong… It’s mama’s voice, but mama wouldn’t sound like that…!

“Who are you?!” Illya yelled, her empty hands tightening into shaky fists. “Where am I?!”

You are not the conduit. You are the same as that, but you are not the conduit.

“What’re you talking about?” Illya asked. “I’m not the ‘conduit’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

And yet, you are still functional. That is why you are here.

“… Who are you?” Illya asked, her voice slowly losing its vigor. The voice was starting to scare her, and the space around her was starting to feel extremely unnatural. “What are you?”

You should know. This is what you were created for.

In the distance, Illya thought she heard someone’s voice. This time, it was a human’s voice; it was someone else trapped in this space with her, by whatever that chill-inducing voice was supposed to be. She was sure she had heard that voice somewhere before. But as she strained her ears in an attempt to identify the source, the voice was gone.

“Why’re you keeping me here?!” Illya yelled to the unfeeling white walls. “Let me out! Where on earth am I?!”

In response to her question, the voice went silent. For a moment Illya thought the owner of the voice had gone away, but before she could say something else, it returned as a cold whisper that echoed across not only the long hallways, but throughout her entire being.

This, the voice of Irisviel said. Is the Holy Grail.

-

Archer had, for better or worse, faced several life-threatening situations in his life. For him, risking his life was the very definition of what he did as a Counter Guardian, and as such he had become accustomed to dangerous scenarios and foes.

This, however, was an exception.

He had known a magus by the name of Tohsaka Rin during his time as a magus (and a complete idiot), and he knew first hand just how tough she could be – on others and on herself. He had been fully prepared this time for the remarks and actions he had since grown accustomed to in another lifetime, but he had not prepared himself for this.

“Archer, explain.”

With an air of authority befitting a first-class magus and Master, Rin stood facing her Servant directly as she made her demand. Archer had heard that tone of voice enough times to understand that simple excuses would not suffice this time.

“That thing you brought out in the battle against Berserker,” Rin went on. “That was a Reality Marble, wasn’t it?”

“… It’s as you say,” Archer conceded. “That’s what you could call my ‘trump card’, so I didn’t want to use it unless it was absolutely necessary. But as you can see, Berserker is simply too strong so my hand was forced. Well, not like it mattered, since I couldn’t kill him even then…”

“You could’ve done more if you had just taken prana from me, couldn’t you?” Rin asked. Or perhaps ‘accused’ was more accurate, given the cold look in her eyes. “The reason the Reality Marble dissipated wasn’t because it was unstable by itself, but because you used your own prana reserves.”

Archer opened his mouth to speak, then paused. She had not been asking him; she was simply making a statement.

“But I don’t care about that right now,” Rin went on. Archer could feel a distinct chill running down his spine. “What I want to know is this, Archer: since you’re able to produce a Reality Marble, which manifests one’s inner world, you must’ve recovered enough of your memories to know who you are, right?”

“… I wonder,” Archer replied. “Something like that could be pulled out simply by instinct; after all, it’s an image strong enough to overwrite reality with one’s own.”

“I see, that’s how you’re playing it. Then, how about I tell you what I know so far?”

Archer froze. There was something odd about the way she had said those words.

“During that huge explosion between whatever those things were,” Rin said, seemingly ignoring Archer as she turned away from him and walked down the sidewalk. “There was this pink blast that protected Ryuudou Temple from the shockwaves caused by the impact. At the same time that it collided, I felt a strange migraine. I thought it might have been due to the exposure to such large amounts of prana, but then I saw something.

“For a brief moment, I saw a bunch of images in my head. No, I saw a bunch of memories in my head. Memories that belonged to someone else… to another Tohsaka Rin.”

“And you’re sure it’s not some illusion caused by the enemy?” Archer asked.

“You’re right. I did think that at first,” Rin replied. “But then I thought about what we discussed before. The presence of a parallel universe and an alternative Holy Grail War, another talking Mystic Code that could theoretically access prana from parallel universes… That collision might have caused some sort of reaction, which allowed me to briefly see into the memories of the me from that world. The world where that other Illyasviel and ‘Kuro’ came from. Well, I’ll know once I get back home and interrogate my own ‘Ruby’, so it’s not a big issue.

“The issue is that a part of those memories mentioned something called a ‘Counter Guardian’.”

Archer, having returned to spiritual form as Rin started walking, did not reply. Had he been physically by her side, the mention of the term might have made him stop dead in his tracks.

“That tanned girl said it to ‘me’ in that memory,” Rin went on, almost as if she was in a monologue at this point. “That while she didn’t know his name, she knew that he wasn’t a true ‘hero’, but a Counter Guardian – that is, someone who made a pact with Alaya to gain power in exchange for becoming an agent to its will. In other words, they’re essentially not heroes in their own right and have no autonomy, appearing only in response to certain events.”

“I see,” was all Archer could manage. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“The person he was referring to was the Archer Class Card,” Rin replied. “The Heroic Spirit whose powers she borrowed and whose form she copied. And she looks and fights just like you. I think you know what I’m getting at, don’t you?”

Archer, unable to reply, took up his physical form. Rin, having stopped walking, simply stood there in the middle of the sidewalk with her back turned to him.

“Counter Guardians gained their power from the Counter Force, meaning they had insufficient power on their own,” Rin said. “In other words, they couldn’t have become true Heroic Spirits in life through their own merits. Add that to you having a Reality Marble, and being able to produce so many copies of the same sword in your battle with Lancer… means you were using magecraft from the very beginning. Am I wrong?”

It was phrased as a question, but there was nothing in her voice that suggested she actually wanted a reply from him.

“That’s why, you were likely a magus when you were alive,” Rin deduced. “But there was no reason for you to hide that from me. Then I thought about it: I didn’t have a catalyst prepared when I summoned you, which meant that normally the Holy Grail would choose someone whose personality was aligned with mine. But being the sarcastic jerk that you are, that couldn’t have been the case. So that must mean that something about me or something in my house had called out to you during the summoning. In other words, you have a connection with the Tohsakas, and that’s why you wanted to keep your identity from me.”

With that, Rin turned to face her Servant proper. Even without meeting her gaze, Archer could tell what expression she must have been wearing then.

“Answer me, Archer: who exactly are you?”

Archer stayed silent. He knew there was no way out of this one; the compulsion brought upon by her first Command Seal aside, when Rin was like this she would more than readily use a second one if need be. In that case, it was simply a matter of how long he could delay the inevitable – even if it was only a few more seconds at best.

“… It’s as you say,” he answered at last. “I was a magus with connections to the Tohsaka through you. I studied magecraft under an excellent teacher, but wasn’t able to manage anything of mention. Frustrated at my own lack of power, I became a Counter Guardian to protect those around me. The Tohsaka Rin I knew didn’t agree with my methods, so that’s why I kept it from you all this time.”

Not lies, and yet not the whole truth either – that was the best he could offer her. He wanted to be completely honest with her, but he knew that was impossible; like he had said, Tohsaka Rin would never agree with his methods.

“Then… what’s your wish for the Holy Grail?” Rin asked. “From the way you said it, you don’t seem to regret turning your back on me in the future. In that case, what are you fighting for?”

“I’m not interested in the Holy Grail,” Archer replied. “The only reason I’m in this war is to kill a certain man. That’s all I can say.”

There was no hiding it from her at this point. Now that it has come to this, he had no choice but to tell her as much as he could. And yet, he had refrained from saying his name.

The name doesn’t matter, he thought. Knowing you, it’s all the same.

“I see,” Rin said, her voice not wavering in the least. “However, as the representative of the Tohsaka, I cannot and will not let you kill anyone, Archer.”

“I expected as much,” Archer replied with a wry smile. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you anything.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you come join me instead?”

Echoing across the night sky was a voice Archer had hoped he would never have to hear again in his life. It was the voice of a witch who stopped at nothing in order to get her way.

“It’s not very polite to be eavesdropping on people’s conversations,” Archer said, shielding Rin with his body as he drew his swords. “Although it’s not very wise to reveal yourself either, if you wanted to launch a surprise attack.

“Oh, but I wasn’t intending to fight,” Caster replied, materializing out of thin air just a few meters from Archer. To face him head on at such a distance was tantamount to suicide for her, or at least it should have been.

It should have been, had it not been for the servant Rider standing by her side, and a new set of glowing Command Seals on the back of Caster’s hand.

“I’ve come to make you an offer, Archer,” she said, her lips parting into a confident smile. “I want you to become my Servant. In exchange… I’ll let you kill whoever you wish.”

Chapter Text

“Damn it!”

Stomping the ground in what could only be described as a childish tantrum, Matou Shinji cursed a variety of things; he cursed Lancer, he cursed Assassin, he cursed Kuzuki, he cursed Rider, but most importantly of all, he cursed Caster.

Of all the people he would personally make sure regretted ever crossing him, she would definitely be the first on the list.

Assassin had been a high-and-mighty jerk. Kuzuki was just an asshole. Rider was more worthless than a sewer rat. Lancer had looked down on him and simply told him to run for his life.

But Caster. She had done something much, much worse. She had actually dared to betray him. Not only that, she had lied to him. She had offered an alliance under the pretence of beating Emiya, but her plan had been a complete disaster; because of whatever that black thing that had erupted from the mountain was, the entire clash at Ryuudou Temple had been thrown into chaos. He had managed to escape because Lancer had gotten bored of fighting Rider, but he was fairly sure no one who stayed could have possibly survived.

But as it turned out, Caster had managed to flee like the coward she was.

“My Assassin was taken out,” she had said, that strangely shaped dagger in her hand. “That’s why I need a new bodyguard. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me your Rider, would you?”

Deep down, a part of him understood. He may not have been a true genius, but he was by no means stupid. A part of him had known Caster would betray him, and had braced himself for that. The only problem was despite that knowledge, he had been unable to stop her in the end.

It would have been fine if he had just been caught off guard. It would have been fine if she had just outsmarted him. But having prepared for her betrayal and still being powerless to stop it made him feel much worse. And in the absence of a scapegoat, all he could do was blame everyone else.

“All of you… looking down on me!” He cursed, slamming a fist into a nearby wall and flinching at the pain. “Argh! I’ll make you regret this! I’ll… I’ll…”

“Nii-san?”

… Ah, come to think of it, there’s someone I forgot to blame.

“What are you doing out here…?” Matou Sakura asked, genuine concern plastered on her face. Despite it being her fault, she sure looked nonchalant about it all. “It’s dangerous out here, so-”

“Of course it’s dangerous,” Shinji said, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “Do you know why, Sakura?”

“U-um-”

“It’s because your Servant was worthless!” Shinji roared. “Your Servant was such a useless piece of shit that she got herself taken away by that bitch! If only you managed to summon a proper Servant, I wouldn’t have had to suffer like this!”

With slow steps, he approached Sakura and placed his hands on her shoulders, causing her to jump. Despite her reaction, she made no move to get away; she certainly knew better than that by now.

“Do you know what this means, Sakura?” he said in a dangerously low tone. “This is all your fault. The Matou are now officially out of the Holy Grail War because you were worthless. How are you going to take responsibility for this?”

“… Hah? Why must I clean up your mess, you pathetic cur?”

The force of those words struck him hard, causing Shinji to remove his hands as though he had been electrocuted. Staggering away from his younger sister and falling onto the ground, he struggled to find the right words as his trembling legs betrayed his fear.

“Eh?” Sakura said suddenly, as though she had just woken up from a daydream. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the foreboding aura had dissipated entirely. “W-what was that…? I-I’m sorry, nii-san! I don’t know what came over me-”

The rest of her excuses were cut short by the sharp impact of Shinji’s palm against her cheek, leaving a stinging burn on her skin. Despite his shaky legs, Shinji had rose to his feet and hit her the moment she started apologizing, as though it was something akin to reflex for him. However, having stood up too quickly, Shinji staggered back a few steps from the effort, his expression a mixture of anger and confused fear.

“W-who do you think you are, talking back to me like that?!” He stammered, turning to walk back towards the Matou Mansion. “T-the next time you do that, I won’t let you off so easily!”

“I-I understand,” Sakura replied, but her brother had already walked off, his speed suggesting he was afraid of something. Of all the time she had spent in that household, she had never seen him wear that expression on his face before.

Sakura looked down at her own hands. Normal. She checked her clothes, felt her face. All normal, save for the pain from Shinji’s slap. She put a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was normal as well. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet…

Why did I say that? She wondered. I’ve never said something like that before… But who does he think he is, lording me around?

She froze, her hands over her mouth as though she had just uttered some forbidden curse.

“What on earth was that…?” she muttered.

-

“Judging by the look on your face, you didn’t win.”

Leaning against the wall of the Emiya Residence’s living room, Lancer spoke those words in an almost offhand manner. Despite that, the implications of his accusation hung ominously in the air between them.

“… No, I lost,” Saber replied, her gaze directed at the table before her.

They were, in every meaning of the word, heroes and warriors. For them, pride was something every bit as important as their life, if not more so. In their world, where spilled blood glistened with honour and drawn swords reflected glory, a warrior without pride was nothing more than a ravenous beast; to a noble warrior, having their pride sullied was a punishment worse than death. To fight for one’s pride was the obligation of a Heroic Spirit, and quite possibly the only joy permitted of their flawed existence as Servants.

Such had been the air around Saber when Lancer first encountered her. But right now, the Servant before him was not the same warrior as before; even without asking for the details, Lancer could hazard a guess as to what had happened.

Simply put, her pride as a warrior had been trampled over.

“So you survived, but you didn’t win,” Lancer said. “What, did your opponent take pity on you?”

“No, he was a splendid opponent,” Saber lamented. “However, our battle was interrupted by someone before we could trade our final blows, and he fell.”

Her fists tightened as she remembered the scene. The shock on Assassin’s face as he was impaled by an unknown weapon, the blood that seeped from his lips as they tried to form words that could express his surprise… they were vivid not because of their brutality, but because of their familiarity.

“Ah… Ahh… Do you want to win so much… that you’d trample over my one and only wish…?”

She had seen her share of violence and death. She had braved battlefields that would break the hearts of even the toughest soldiers, and she had emerged victorious from them. But despite her wealth of experience, Saber had been struck speechless by the death of that spearman.

“Let the Grail be cursed! May the wish it grants bring disaster! And when you fall into the searing pits of hell… remember the rage of Diarmuid!”

She had been unable to fulfil her promise to another warrior back then. And now, ten years later, she was still unable to fulfil a similar one to the Nameless Assassin. How many times must this world sink its fangs into her pride before it was satisfied? Could it even be satisfied?

“I see,” Lancer replied. “It’s a shame, but it can’t be helped.”

“… Do you intend to just brush it off, Lancer?” Saber asked in a low tone.

“Well, yeah,” Lancer replied, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “Or are you suggesting you intend to somehow turn back time so you can settle your match with him?”

“A match between warriors is a clash of pride and honour,” Saber declared. “To not give it its due respect is akin to spitting in the face of chivalry, Lancer.”

“And harping on something in the past is chivalry to you?” Lancer countered. “Sorry, but if it’s pride you’re talking about, mine’s already been dragged through the mud, Saber.”

Saber started. Taking advantage of her silence, Lancer went on, his gaze not breaking away from hers.

“Hey, Saber. That silver-haired woman who appeared at that temple… you said she was someone you once failed to protect, right?”

“… That’s right,” Saber replied, almost reluctantly. “Her name was… is Irisviel. I swore to protect her, but she…”

“Then you don’t have the time to be moping around, do you?” Lancer challenged. There was something in his eyes that suggested this meant more to him than he was letting on. “If you’re a king, you should have this thing where you put duty above all else, right? And now that you have another chance to protect her properly… are you going to just waste it?”

Silence fell in the wake of his words. He knew just as well as Saber did that the Irisviel who had appeared at Ryuudou Temple was not the same person Saber knew, but it mattered little; after all, they had accepted both Illya and Illyasviel to both be proper ‘Illyasviel von Einzberns’ in their own right. As far as they knew, this woman was every bit the same Irisviel that Saber had met ten years ago.

The same Irisviel who had, in order to fulfil a wish bigger than her, lost her life in the Fourth Holy Grail War.

“… I understand, Lancer,” Saber said, fresh determination burning in her irises. “Your words hold true. My apologies.”

For a few moments, Lancer did not reply. Despite a voice brimming with confidence, there was still evidently something lurking in the back of Saber’s mind. It was something that Lancer understood could not be dispelled by simple words, so he refrained; after all, he was no king. There was no way he could fully empathize with someone whose sword carried an entire nation.

In the end, all he could do was appeal to Saber’s warrior half. The burdens she shouldered as a King were weights she would have to deal with on her own.

“Heh, don’t worry about it,” Lancer replied, returning to his seemingly carefree demeanour. “If you want to thank someone, thank that brat; talking to her made me think a little about stuff like that.”

“‘That brat’… You refer to Illya?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Lancer said, turning his head towards the direction of the guest room.

Even though they could not physically see it, the two Servants cast their gaze towards where Shirou had carried Illya. The girl had been covered in wounds and unconscious since the raid at Ryuudou Temple, with nary a sign of waking up anytime soon. Next to Bazett (who somehow managed to walk back with them on her own), she was the one who had suffered the most damage during the entire event.

“We don’t have the time to be sitting around feeling sorry,” Lancer said, more to himself than to anyone else. “Not when the kid’s tearing herself up to save our asses.”

-

“Bazett-san’s asleep,” Shirou said as he stepped into the room. “She said she’ll be fine after resting up for the night.”

“I see. Thank you.”

The woman who had spoken uttered those words without once turning to face him. Wet towel in hand, Irisviel spared not a moment for anyone but her daughter, who had been tucked into a futon in the center of the room.

“How is… she doing?” Shirou asked hesitantly.

“She’s extremely fatigued,” Irisviel replied, her expression unreadable. “She handled too much magical energy at once, and to put it simply… it wore her out.”

“That… that can’t be all,” Miyu, who had been so still and silent that Shirou had not noticed her before, said timidly. Right next to her, Kuro managed a small nod. “Illya protected us from that huge shockwave, so she wasn’t hit by anything. There’s no way she could have wounds that severe from simple mana exhaustion.”

Irisviel sighed as she replaced the towel on Illya’s forehead, before turning to face the two girls for the first time since she had appeared out of nowhere. Her gaze was firm as always, but there was no longer any hint of playfulness present anymore.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “As expected of you, Miyu-chan. I didn’t want to worry you since there’s nothing we can do, but I suppose that’s not going to work out. Mysterious Stick-chan?”

At her words, Ruby wriggled her way out of the covers, hovering over to Irisviel and resting on her shoulder. Even she – the Mystic Code of Love and Justice who could not shut up regardless of the situation – was quiet.

“It’s like this,” Ruby said. “In order to protect everyone from the shockwaves caused by the collision of Noble Phantasms, Illya-san required access to larger amounts of energy. To accomplish that, Sapphire-chan and I merged ourselves into one Mystic Code, capable of converting parts of the user’s entire body into pseudo magic circuits.”

“Is something like that even possible?” Miyu asked. “Turning the entire body into a medium for magical energy… That’s…”

“Normally, such an act is tantamount to suicide,” Sapphire chimed in, peeking out from inside Miyu’s hair. “Nee-san and I are already capable of supplying a nearly endless amount of magical energy to our wielders, so the only limiting factor for our output is the user’s body and capacity for magecraft. If the output exceeds the user’s personal limit, they run the risk of permanently damaging their magic circuits. That’s why in order to temporarily exceed that limit, we convert things like muscles and nerves into magic circuits to lower the burden on the user’s original circuits, and to allow the user to wield more energy at once. But we cannot control this by ourselves, so we merge in order to do so.”

“But to be honest, most of the time it doesn’t matter,” Ruby added. “Just increasing the output at the risk of destroying one’s body is pointless, especially considering the increase in output is usually nothing too special. But in Illya-san’s case… she has an exceptional talent for magecraft, so she was able to draw out an unbelievable amount of energy. That ended up causing heavy damage to her muscles and nerves. The signs of internal bleeding you can see are a result of channelling that much power.”

“My goodness, this foolish daughter of mine…” Irisviel sighed. Reaching over and stroking Illya’s head, she added with a faint smile: “But that’s just like you, going to extremes for other people. Now I can’t even scold you for being reckless.

“But of course, when you wake up, I’m going to have a fitting punishment ready~”

A chill ran down Shirou’s spine. Even whilst unconscious, Illya’s body shivered in fear. Miyu looked absolutely petrified.

“But that can wait,” Irisviel said, walking over to Kuro and Miyu and pulling them into a tight embrace. “Don't worry; her life’s not in any immediate danger. If we just give her some time to rest, she’ll be awake soon.”

“… I’m sorry,” Miyu muttered. “If only I was stronger, Illya wouldn’t have had to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Irisviel shook her head. “That girl of mine tends to forget about herself when it comes to moments like this. She really takes after her father in that regard. If it means those around her are safe, she’ll do any number of reckless things.”

Releasing them from her hug, Irisviel put on what Shirou thought to be the warmest smile he had ever seen someone make. It was an extremely gentle expression, and yet incredibly reassuring all the same.

“That’s why, there’s no need for you to blame yourself,” she said. “Let’s not make Illya wake up to any unhappy faces, okay?”

“… I-I understand,” Miyu said, her shaky voice betraying just how much effort she was putting in. For an elementary schoolgirl, the display was nothing short of miraculous.

“… Yeah…” Kuro replied, in a voice that was almost inaudible.

“It seems you have a lot on your mind as well,” Irisviel said with a knowing smile. “If you need a listening ear, Mama Iri is here, you know?”

“I know,” Kuro replied in the same flat tone. “It’s just… is it okay if I talk to Miyu in private for a bit?”

“… I understand,” Irisviel replied, getting to her feet. “Then I’ll leave Illya to you two for a bit, okay? I needed to talk to Shirou as well, so that works out.”

“Me?” Shirou asked. He had been expecting to be filled in at some point in time, but he had not been expecting that moment to come so soon. After all the chaos at Ryuudou Temple, he had expected them to be too preoccupied with other things than to bother explaining things to an outsider like him.

“Yup,” Irisviel said cheerily, flashing him a friendly smile. “Judging from your reaction, you don’t seem to know, but I’m actually Kiritsugu’s wife.

“So, that makes me your mother, Shirou-chan~”

-

Shirou sat in stunned silence as he tried to come up with something to say. At Irisviel’s request, they had moved out of the room, sitting in the darkened corridor overlooking the courtyard.

Come to think of it, this was where Kiritsugu…

“My, this really is a nice house,” Irisviel said, sounding like a child with a new toy. “I wish our home was like this.”

“So… you’re from a parallel world?” Shirou managed. It was, in hindsight, not the best question to ask, but he had no clue what was.

“Yup, I am,” Irisviel replied simply. “I’m from the same world as Illya, Kuro and Miyu. And going by your response, I suppose you’re already accustomed to that fact?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘accustomed’,” Shirou said hesitantly. “It’s more of ‘going with the flow’ at this point.”

“Well, that’s definitely a very Shirou-like thing to say,” Irisviel giggled. “I guess no matter what world you’re in, you’ll always be at the mercy of those around you, huh?”

“… Is that what I’m like over there as well?” Shirou asked.

“No, no,” Irisviel said. “Our Shirou is much more of a playboy than you are!”

“… What?”

“That boy is quite sinful indeed,” Irisviel said, a mischievous and playful smile on her face. “He unknowingly gets girls falling for him, and then is all slow and dense when they make advances on him. He even got his little sister to fall for him, like the eroge protagonist he is. He’s like a natural gigolo, you know?”

“… I kind of want to punch alternate me in the face,” Shirou said, massaging his temple with one hand.

“Fufufu, you say that, but are you sure you’re not the same~?” Irisviel teased. “Maybe you’ve already had girls falling for you but you haven’t realized it yet~?”

“Of course not,” Shirou replied hastily. “T-there’s no way something like that… I think…”

“In any case, our Shirou is worlds apart from you. Unlike you, he actually knows what it’s like to be happy.”

The night air was still. The same, playful smile was still on Irisviel’s face, but the levity had all but vanished. No, perhaps such a thing had never existed in the first place.

“What… do you mean?”

“When I saw you for the first time, I understood,” Irisviel said, her smile fading. “I knew that you were carrying something larger than yourself, and that your mind functioned in a different way from how a normal human’s would.”

“What do you-”

“Your eyes when you rushed over to Illya and saw her injured,” Irisviel cut across him. “Those weren’t the eyes of concern or worry. Those were the eyes of someone who has already glimpsed despair, and was reliving it when they saw Illya collapsed. Am I wrong?”

The fires. The empty black canvas stretching out into eternity. The silent screams that died amidst vermillion cackles. The scarlet tongues that clawed at the skies. The scene of carnage and hell returned in that moment with a simple sentence from her, as though called upon by her voice. In that moment, Shirou was the helpless child trapped under rubble again, waiting desperately for someone to save him.

“… Looks like I was right,” Irisviel said. “You’ve not known happiness in any way, and it’s probably because of Kiritsugu’s death.”

“How did you… know about that?” Shirou asked, his voice sounding foreign even to himself.

“You didn’t know I was your mother despite being an ‘Emiya’,” Irisviel replied. “Which means Kiritsugu must have adopted you in my absence. But just as we predicted in our world, there’s a Holy Grail War happening right now. If the Grail is active and I’m no longer around, that must mean Kiritsugu failed and the current representative of the Einzberns… is the Illya of this world, correct? There’s no way Kiritsugu would have just sat back at let that happen, so he must be dead now.”

“B-but this is a parallel world,” Shirou countered. “Kiritsugu could have never met you in this-”

“That’s not possible,” Irisviel said, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Ruby-chan told me that there’s an Illyasviel von Einzbern in this world as well, and there’s no way she could be the child of anyone but Kiritsugu and Irisviel.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Irisviel’s smile then was, simply put, dazzling. “Regardless of what world we’re in, the only person ‘I’ will ever love is Emiya Kiritsugu.”

Silence followed her bold declaration. Shirou was unsure of how to respond; after all, Kiritsugu had never mentioned anything about having a child or even a wife. He had always avoided talking about his past, and had refused to break that rule until just before he died.

When I was a child, I admired heroes of justice.

That was the only thing he had learned from Kiritsugu about his days before adopting Shirou. In the end, that was just how much Shirou knew about his own father.

“What was… Kiritsugu like in your world?”

“He was weak,” Irisviel replied. “He was kind, he was determined, he was loving… but he was weak. He couldn’t afford to lose me and risk Illya for the sake of his dream, so he threw it away. He didn’t have the strength to give up on me… so he gave up on the world for my sake. That’s the kind of weakness he had, that the Emiya Kiritsugu of this world probably never followed through.

“But because of that weakness, I managed to live,” Irisviel went on as she looked at the sky. “Because of that weakness, Illya was able to have a proper life. Because of that weakness, our Shirou had a proper family and experienced normal happiness. Even if there are nights where he would curse himself for giving up on the world, he never regretted the family he chose to save. That’s the kind of person Kiritsugu is.”

“He gave up… on being a hero?” Shirou asked. In his final moments, Kiritsugu had revealed to him that he had given up on those illusions because he was an adult. If the result of him giving up on that was a happy family in Illya’s world, why was it so different in Shirou’s? If Kiritsugu had given up on those dreams here as well, why was this house’s sole occupant Shirou?

As he asked himself those questions, Shirou felt like he understood. The major difference between the two Kiritsugu had been something very simple: one had made the choice of his own free will, and the other had been forced to make that choice. But how was it possible for a simple thing like that to change the world?

In the end, what had the Kiritsugu he knew gone through, to give up on a dream he had pursued at the cost of his loved one’s life?

“… Wait, you said you managed to live because of Kiritsugu’s choice,” Shirou said. “What did you mean by that?”

“I guess you really don’t know anything about us,” Irisviel said. “But I guess it’s okay, since we’re family and all. Despite how I look, Shirou, I’m not actually human. I’m a homunculus created through alchemy, meant to serve as the vessel of the Holy Grail.”

Shirou felt his lips move, but there was no voice in his throat.

“As long as there’s a Holy Grail War, an Einzbern homunculus will serve as the vessel in order to summon the actual Holy Grail into existence,” Irisviel explained. “That’s my role, and also Illya’s role in the next war. It is, simply put, the very reason we were created for.”

“Then that means-”

“That is correct,” Irisviel nodded. “If this world’s Illya was forced to come to Fuyuki, then she must be the vessel this time round. If they were confident enough to make her a Master, she must be an even better vessel than I am. But that won’t change the fact that as the war goes on, she will slowly lose her bodily functions and, upon the completion of the ritual, she will cease to exist.”

“Isn’t there anything that can be done?” Shirou asked, almost instantly.

“Absolutely none,” Irisviel said, her tone allowing for no argument. “I apologize if I sound too blunt, but that is what I am; no matter what I say or do, I am but a doll created through magecraft. Even if I can understand and replicate emotion, I cannot feel them. So I can only tell you honestly: there is no saving this world’s Illya no matter what you do. It is simply a matter of her body not being built for that sort of function.”

Shirou felt his blood run cold. After all that they had been through, he was told that he could not even save a little girl. How could he ever accept something like that?

“Well, there is a small workaround, though,” Irisviel said, her expression softening a little. “Since I am also a vessel and also a model made before Illya, I should be able to wrestle some control from her. The Einzberns have something called the ‘Dress of Heaven’, and if I wear that I should be able to do something about her body. Simply put, I can shift her ‘soul’ into a new container, one that will enable her to live longer. That will at least buy her some time.”

“But then, if you become the vessel in her place, what will happen to you?” Shirou asked, although he could already guess the answer.

“I will die, of course,” Irisviel replied simply. “Or rather, I will return to the Grail just as I was supposed to. And before you ask, no,” she added as Shirou opened his mouth. “There is no way to save all of us. No matter what you say, no matter how much you deny reality like Illya and Miyu have been doing all this time, this is the absolute truth.

“There is no happy ending here, Shirou. At the end of the day, at least one of us will have to perish. If it can be just me, then I will be happy with that. I came here to save my daughter, and I will willingly trade my life for that.”

Even though her words were sad, and even though her eyes reflected a staunch resignation, Shirou could tell her spirit was strong. If it meant saving her daughter, this woman would cross dimensions just to die for her. Even if the Illyasviel in question was not from the same world as she was.

She had not come here prepared to face the possibility of death. She had come here knowing she would die from the beginning. But whether the cause was supposed to be the Grail of this world or not, Shirou had no way of telling.

“… I won’t let that happen,” Shirou said. “Illya said something like that as well. She won’t let anyone die, and she’ll save everyone. I’m sure she’d agree with me that we can manage something!”

“I guess if you look at it a certain way, that is true,” Irisviel said. “However, Shirou, your words and hers mean very different things. Illya’s wish is that of a child’s, and she has a very earnest greed of wanting to save everyone. But in the end, even if she puts her life in danger, she does not want to die. That’s because she understands that if she dies, those who care about her will be hurt as well. Illya may be greedy in wanting to save everyone, but she also understands what that ‘everyone’ means. That’s why if she was to be in your shoes, she would have said ‘I don’t want that to happen’ instead.

“Shirou, what you want is very different; what you want is not to save ‘everyone’, but to save ‘everyone else’.”

An eternity passed as their eyes met. The look in Irisviel’s eyes was indecipherable, no matter how much Shirou tried to understand it. Understanding? Pity? Sadness? Emptiness? It was impossible for him to tell the emotion behind those words, behind her eyes.

It was even harder, however, for him to reject her words. Even if he did not understand what they meant.

“I know because your eyes are the same as his,” Irisviel said, answering the unasked question within Shirou’s throat as she looked away from him. “He always had those eyes back then, all those years ago… Eyes that saw the world, but that was all; you could not tell what kind of person was looking through those eyes, because they did not care about themselves. That is why I cannot accept your words, Shirou. After all, the man I fell in love with was someone who had given up on that.”

Standing up from her spot, Irisviel looked at Shirou for one last time before adding:

“Consider this, Shirou: if you really wish to save everyone, there is someone else you have to save first. If you cannot figure out who that is, you will never be able to protect anything.”

-

“What… what are you saying?”

In response to Miyu’s shocked expression, Kuro simply walked towards the window.

“I guess you were expecting a kiss, so it can’t be helped that I surprised you,” Kuro said, not turning to look at her. “So I’ll repeat myself just this once, Miyu: I understand now that I can’t win. And since our last exchange, I’m confident that Onii- that Shirou can pull off that move, so there’s no need for me to be around anymore. Plus, you have Bazett, so you’ll be fine.”

“You can’t be serious, Kuro,” Miyu muttered, her weak limbs unable to give chase to a girl mere meters away from her. “Please tell me you’re just joking!”

“Well, jokes don’t work on you, so there’s really no point, is there?” Kuro asked, opening the window and looking back one last time. At her sister, at Miyu, at her ‘brother’ and mother just outside the door.

At the room that she may never return to ever again.

“I’m going to join that red Archer,” she said.

Without waiting for a reply, Kuro leapt out the window and into the night.

Chapter Text

“This isn’t good, Rin.”

“I know that,” Rin snapped. “Just focus on the enemy.”

Archer resisted the urge to reply, partly because he knew that she was well aware of the situation at hand. No matter how gifted of a magus Rin was, and no matter how strong he was as a Heroic Spirit, they were at a disadvantage against a pair of Servants.

Traditionally, the Master – the human – was the weakest link in a Holy Grail War. Not only were they weaker than their Servant, their death meant the Servant would eventually cease to exist due to losing their anchor to this world. When one’s Servant was outmatched, it was an acceptable (or perhaps encouraged) plan to go for the Master instead. Such a weakness, by design, existed in every party of every Holy Grail War.

Every party, that is, except for Caster’s.

Having managed to sever Rider’s contract with her Master, Caster had essentially covered for a Master’s supposed weaknesses by simultaneously being a Servant herself. It was an impressive feat, but Archer wasn’t in the mood nor situation to admire it.

“Loyalty was never your strongest suit,” he said. “But I didn’t expect you to enforce treachery onto others as well.”

“What I did is no different from what every Master does,” Caster replied, her voice laced with confidence and mirth. “Everyone wants to keep the strongest pieces to themselves while depriving their opponents of theirs. I just happened to be the only person capable of doing it this way.”

“So why not go for Berserker?” Archer asked. “Or Saber, considering her Class is the strongest.”

“We both know that a rabid dog isn’t a warrior,” Caster replied. “If I wanted a mindless pawn, I can just summon my own. As for Saber… she clearly isn’t as strong as her Class suggests. Why bother with her when I have better options?”

“I see,” Archer let out a low laugh. “You don’t think you can get close to Berserker without dying, and Saber’s party has Lancer and several other fighters, so you didn’t like your odds in either scenario even with 2 Servants. We were the only party left for you to prey on, right?”

Rather than responding (a sign that assured him he had hit the mark), Caster pulled out a dagger from within her robe.

To call it a dagger was rather misleading, as the jagged blade made it impractical for combat. At best, it was something that could stab an unmoving target, or be used as Mystic Code in some kind of ritual.

But Archer knew very well just how dangerous something like that was against a Servant.

“You’ve seen this before, I reckon,” Caster said. “So I assume you know what it does. You can come with us obediently, or we kill your Master and force you into submission. It’s your choice.”

“You expect me to believe you’ll let her go if I just surrender?” Archer asked. “After you deceived Emiya Shirou’s group and betrayed the Master working with you?”

“Yes,” Caster replied. “You’re free to not believe me, but all you have is my word.”

Nothing else was said, and the tense silence that followed belied just how much control she had over the situation. And, by extension, just how much the odds were against himself and Rin.

“… Rin,” he said.

“I’m not hearing it, Archer,” Rin retorted. “I’m not running away.”

Despite the situation, Archer couldn’t help but smile.

“You know as well as I do there’s no other choice,” Archer said. “The two of us dying here accomplishes nothing. You need to survive.”

And if you survive, withdraw from this war entirely.

As much as he would have wanted to say those words, he knew very well that the person known as Tohsaka Rin would never turn her back on her adversaries.

“Oh, good,” Caster chuckled. “You’re capable of seeing reason. I guess I don’t need to get Rider to tie you down, after all.”

“I expect you to keep your word, witch,” Archer said, his tone even but the force behind his words anything but. “Don’t lay a finger on her.”

“Of course,” Caster replied, floating towards him and raising the dagger up high.

Rin opened her mouth, but no words poured out. For all her efforts, talents and knowledge, it was all she could do to stand there and watch as the events unfolded.

As though she had not moved forward a single step, from the little girl watching her father leave her behind 10 years ago.

“… Mark my words, Archer,” Rin said. “I will get you back and make you apologize for siding with her.”

Unfair as ever, Archer thought, fighting back the urge to laugh.

As Rin’s footsteps grew further away, he felt the pain of Rule Breaker’s tip as it pierced his flesh. He had no way of confirming it, but at that moment, Rin was surely losing her Command Seals, and all the rights she once had as a Master.

“There,” Caster said, sounding rather pleased with herself as she stowed the dagger away. “Now you both serve me.”

Archer closed his eyes. Sure enough, the unmistakable flow of magical energy sustaining his form now came from Caster, instead of Rin. He was now officially Caster’s Servant alongside Rider.

But at the same time, that was all he was.

Without a single comment, Archer faded into his spirit form.

She should be far away by now, he mused. She can reinforce her legs to cover long distances, after all.

“You’re rather meek now, huh?” Caster laughed. “And how considerate of you to conserve my magical power for me.”

“I just figured this was for the best,” Archer replied. “I know first-hand how much it hurts, after all.”

Before Caster could so much as process what he said, something pierced her left shoulder, struck the ground, and exploded.

Teleporting into the air, Caster clutched at her new wound. Whatever that had been had punched a hole through her shoulder, and the explosion had done a fair deal of damage to her as well. She didn’t check Rider’s condition, but it was safe to say she wasn’t unscathed, either.

“You missed her heart,” Archer said, materializing once more. “Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“I figured you’d want to deliver the final blow yourself.”

Having seemingly appeared out of thin air, Kuro stood next to Archer as they both produced the same pair of black and white swords. Kuro faced Rider, who was staggering to her feet after taking the explosion to the face, while Archer turned to face Caster.

“Being able to sense you was annoying, but I guess it worked out,” Archer said. “Now I hope you brought the rest of your nursery with you.”

“Unfortunately, I just ran away from home,” Kuro replied. “But I got them to help me make something nice, so don’t worry.”

“I can guess what it is,” Archer smirked.

“Your confidence is misplaced, Archer,” Caster said, holding up her hand to show them the glowing Command Seals. “I guess I need to show you who’s really in cha-”

The rest of her threat died in her throat, as the unmistakable sensation of her Contract with Archer being severed coursed through her body.

Down on the ground, Kuro gave her a cheeky wink as she stabbed Rule Breaker (or a copy, as Caster surmised) into Archer’s back.

“What now, Witch of Betrayal?” Archer asked, his voice now once again filled with that familiar arrogance. “In a couple of moments, it’ll be three against one.”

“… We’re withdrawing, Rider,” Caster said, gnashing her teeth in fury.

Without a word, Rider followed behind her new Master, assuming her spirit form and retreating. Once he was sure they were safe, Archer dematerialized his swords and turned to Kuro.

“Can’t say I was expecting that, but you came at a good time,” he said.

“Aww, can’t you be thankful and just say ‘thank you, my lovely little sister’?” Kuro asked. Turning to the Rule Breaker in her hand, which was already fading away, she shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it really was a one-use only copy. That was all I could manage even with Ruby’ and Sapphire’s help.”

“And considering you were looking for me to begin with,” Archer surmised. “I was your intended target?”

“Right,” Kuro nodded. “She got the jump on me, but Caster and I had the same idea.”

“Why me?” Archer asked. “Your party hardly needs-”

“I know who you are.”

Over the course of his turbulent life, Archer had heard a fair deal of cryptic statements. Most of them had been nonsensical, and a couple vaguely made sense in hindsight. This sentence, however, sent shivers down his spine.

It had come from the lips of the dark Illya lookalike, Kuro, and the implications behind that statement were clear as day.

He had had some reservations about Kuro coming here. Following the battle at Ryuudou Temple, he was certain she’d be with the rest of Emiya Shirou’s crew, tending to their wounds. But she had decided to seek him out nonetheless.

And on top of that, she had come here alone.

“… And what of it?” Archer fired back. At this point, he hardly believed she would come here with that attitude just to lie. “Do you think this makes for a threat of some kind? I may not be Rin’s Servant anymore, but-”

“Don’t you mean to call her ‘Tohsaka’?”

Archer froze. If there had been any lingering doubts in his mind before, they were wiped clean with that one seemingly innocent question.

“I’ve gotten access to a large amount of your memories,” Kuro said, when Archer failed to reply. “I don’t know why, but Illya’s attack at Ryuudou Temple must have triggered something. And part of it… included your life before you became like this.”

“… And did you tell your merry group of friends?” Archer asked.

“No,” Kuro shook her head. “So if you kill me here and now, your secret will never get out.”

“If you’ve really accessed most of my memories, you’d know whether or not I would do something like that,” Archer said. “Are you testing me?”

“Just stating facts,” Kuro flashed him a cheeky smile, one without an ounce of genuine mirth. “Which brings me to why I’m here.

“I want you to help me unlock even more.”

Archer narrowed his eyes.

“For what purpose?” he asked.

Even as he said it, he realized he had asked the wrong thing first; rather than asking why he would bother helping her, he had jumped straight to seeking out her reason. As though him helping her out was a given.

“So I can utilize more of the Class Card’s ability,” Kuro replied. “I’m no good to anyone the way I am now, and the Class Card only resonates with you. If I want to be able to protect anyone, I need its power. Your power.”

“… Putting aside the issue of helping my enemies,” Archer said. “Do you know what you’re asking for? Even if I’m not a proper hero, I’m still a Heroic Spirit. Accessing all the experience and memories of someone like me will no doubt fry your brain.”

“I’m well aware,” Kuro replied. “In fact, even as we speak, the Archer Class Card is eating away at my sense of self. If it ever reaches full synchronization with you, I’ll probably become a clone of you, mentally at least.”

Archer couldn’t help but stare at the girl before him. Her young appearance notwithstanding, the things she was saying were absurd. She had just openly declared that she was okay with possibly erasing her own mind, if it gave her the power to protect others.

It was a decision and resolve painfully familiar, and every bit as wretched as it was pitiful.

He had no clue to what extent his own personality had influenced this decision, but if this self-destructive tendency of Kuro’s was a byproduct of being exposed to him, then…

Then it’s my fault she’s chosen this path over a happier life.

And if that was truly the case, then just like in his own lifetime, he would have to see another Illya bury her own future without being able to so much as lift a finger.

“I won’t ask you to do it for free,” Kuro said, ignorant of the maelstrom of thoughts in his head. “I know what you’re after. And we both know that if you go back to Rin-san now, she’ll stop you even if it means using all her Command Seals once she finds out.”

“… And being your Servant will somehow change that?” Archer asked. He already knew that his Independent Action skill made it possible for Kuro to maintain his existence even if she was lacking in prana, but the real problem lay elsewhere. “Aren’t you getting stronger to protect everyone, including him?”

“Yes,” Kuro replied readily. “So this is a bet. After I unlock everything about this Class Card, will I still be me? If I’m not, then you’ll have free rein to try and kill Shirou as much as you want. But if I can still maintain myself as ‘Kuro’, then… You’ll have to get through me to get to him.”

Her gaze wavered. Archer knew then that she was well aware of the risks she was taking, and that this plan had practically no merits for her regardless of the outcome.

But if that was truly the case, what was she after? What was she trying to prove?

No matter how much he searched his own hazy memories, Archer wasn’t able to find an answer. After that clash at Ryuudou Temple, he had begun to remember vividly some distant moments of his previous life, ones that he was certain he’d locked in the deepest recesses of his mind. But even those memories did nothing in searching for the answer behind Kuro’s suggestion.

That only helped to prove that the driving force behind her actions, however asinine, were her own motivations rather than his influence.

In truth, the answer didn’t require much reminiscing to figure out. It was nothing more, and nothing less, than a selfish desire that everyone held in their hearts. A selfish desire that a rare few come to forget as they grow, and one that those who readily threw themselves into the fires of battle may never recall.

Archer stayed silent. Under normal circumstances, there was no way he would agree to her conditions. He would never abandon Rin just so he could pursue a path fraught with such uncertainty. But as things stood, he knew that Kuro was right: Rin would never allow him to kill Emiya Shirou, and she was close to figuring out just who he was, too. At the rate this was going, she too would become one of the roadblocks on his quest to set things straight, if he decided to go back to her.

And if she did stand in his way, he knew there was a real chance he’d relent.

If I had to see her cry over my decisions in this life too, I don’t know if I’d be able to take it.

“I assume you’re hesitating over Rin-san?” Kuro asked, putting her hands on her hips and heaving an overdramatic sigh. “Good god, you really are head over heels for her.”

Despite everything, Archer resisted the urge to deny that in the same immature way Emiya Shirou would have.

“We do this, we get her out of the fight, she doesn’t put herself in danger,” Kuro pointed out. “Isn’t that good enough?”

“You clearly don’t understand Rin very well,” Archer sighed. “Her talent as a magus is only matched by her stubbornness. Just because you steal her Servant doesn’t mean she’ll just back off without a fight.”

Just as he said that, Archer wanted to take back his words. They were all true, of course, but airing his former Master’s qualities publicly like this wasn’t the wisest of choices.

“You sound like an old husband complaining about his wife,” Kuro teased.

“I’m not-”

“Well, whatever,” Kuro easily dismissed what was likely to be a poorly made excuse. “But think about it: Rin-san may be a stubborn old mule, but she’s not stupid. Right now, without a Servant, she’d have no choice but to find help somewhere, right? And as long as she doesn’t find out I stole you from Caster...”

“… You expect her to go to Emiya Shirou’s camp to forge an alliance,” Archer finished. “Well, compared to Caster and the other Illya, it’s not like she has a wealth of choices…”

“And what kind of stronghold could be stronger than a place with 2 Servants, 2 mini-Servants and someone who becomes-” Kuro cleared her throat. “I mean, and someone who has the potential to be a Counter Guardian?”

Archer did not reply. It was certainly true that, if he prioritized his mission above all else, this would be the path to take. In the current circumstances, he’d be wise to accept Chloe’s offer.

If he wanted to increase his chances of killing Eimya Shirou, betraying Rin gave the highest chances of success.

And yet.

“… Sorry, but no deal.”

Despite the clear merits of agreeing, Archer turned his back on the best bet he had.

“I may not be a proper hero, but I do know where my loyalty lies,” he said.

More than anyone else, he knew that he had already betrayed her once before. Twice, if one counted joining Caster, albeit briefly, to ensure Rin’s safety. In that faraway dream, belonging to a man he no longer knew, he had seen the crying faces of those he held dear. The faces of those who knew his mind was set on pursuing this path, who knew he was intent on burning himself to cinders… Just so others may live in blissful ignorance.

And amongst those faces, was hers.

Sadness upon a face known for its confidence and arrogance. Weakness within eyes known for their strength and spirit. Trembling words from lips he knew were soft and gentle.

A hideous expression that did not suit the magus known as Tohsaka Rin, and one that he had forced upon her with his own unique brand of stubbornness. All to become a Hero of Justice.

“Sorry,” he continued. “But I won’t turn my back on her again.”

“… I see,” Kuro said, There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but looking at his back, an inexplicable pain tore at her chest. Partially because she knew that nothing she said would change his mind, and the Command Seals now etched on the back of her hand would matter little in the way of swaying his heart.

But more than anything, it was because his rejection made her feel even more alone than she ever had.

In the short time she’s been to this version of Fuyuki, she had seen very little. There had been no time to sightsee, to explore this world that had turned her older brother into a stranger. But despite all that, she had had the feeling she had seen too much.

Because the more she watched this world, the more she came to understand that hers was an existence that was unneeded.

Even in this world, there was never a Chloe von Einzbern. In a world where Illya embraced the Einzberns’ ambitions, there was simply no room for a ‘Kuro’. But even the Illya who created her – that ordinary, carefree girl – had grown to a point where she didn’t need her anymore.

But if she wasn’t needed, for what reason did she wish to live back then?

In truth, there were other ways for her to get stronger. If what she wanted was simply the power to protect, there were better and less risky ways to go about it. But this was the path she had chosen: to gamble her very existence, against the very entity that made up the core of her being.

All to assert that trademark Einzbern stubbornness that, at the end of it all, this was all her. That she had a will to call her own.

But even that had just been crushed. Far from betting her own existence, she couldn’t so much as put it on the line.

“Then I suppose we’re… done here...”

A bitter farewell. An admittance of defeat wrenched from deep within her throat. Before she could finish her words, Kuro fell forward, the world before her spinning out of control.

The asphalt ground rushed to greet her, and just moments before darkness filled her vision, a pair of strong but gentle hands broke her fall.

Chapter Text

When did the term ‘family’’... start to mean something else for me?

It had always been something easy to define. It was a definition that did not change, even now. No matter which dictionary you flipped through, it would aways come down to the same thing. I’d never attached a deeper meaning to that, just as my family didn’t attach anything deeper to our connections.

So then, when did my understanding of it start to change?

Was it when I was adopted? When I was separated from my real family? When I met the person who would become my older brother?

Some families are built on coincidences. For people who are not biologically related to come together, to become connected in a way that should have been unique to those with blood relations... Nothing but a series of coincidences that binds together those who should, by all accounts, be nothing more than strangers.

Coincidences. That was all it should have been. And yet, recently I’ve begun to think it might be more than that.

When did I start seeing this world differently? When did light return to my eyes, after I had spent so long killing my emotions?

Was it perhaps... when I met the person known as Emiya Shirou?

All the people I’ve met. All the experiences I’ve gained. For all of them to converge at this point, for me to wander into something a Holy Grail War under these very circumstances... It’s hard to write it all off as nothing but a string of coincidences.

So perhaps, me meeting her in this war... Perhaps that too, is more than just coincidence.

Perhaps it was, as they say, an act of fate.

-

“Sakura-san?”

Matou Sakura snapped out of the daze she was in, and turned to the one who had called out to her.

“Are you okay?” Miyu asked. “You just sort of... spaced out for a bit.”

“I’m... okay,” Sakura replied, her lips curling into what she’d hoped was a reassuring, albeit shaky, smile. “I was just lost in thought.”

Had that been all there was to it, her words would have carried more confidence. But Sakura knew better than anyone that being ‘lost in thought’ wasn’t something so simple.

To escape from whatever situation was being forced upon her, to be lost in whatever distractions she could come up with... it was all just to avoid facing the reality before her eyes. At some point in time, just the sight of her own home would make her space out on reflex, as though her body wanted to distance itself from whatever lay beyond those walls.

Even though her heart had given up a long time ago.

Why did I bring her to a place like this?

“This is my home,” she said. “Come on in.”

Miyu was, amongst other things, intelligent beyond her years. Knowledge gleaned from books, practical experience in both magecraft, not to mention a relatively normal social circle had afforded her skills no child her age should have. Amongst those was the ability to read some expressions, even though social cues were largely beyond her (though it could be argued that it was more due to a lack of interest than inability to read them).

In particular, she was capable of picking up expressions that were very personal to her. Thus, the fleeting shift in Sakura’s eyes as she said ‘home’ had not escaped her notice.

She doesn’t see this place as home, Miyu surmised. Is this why she goes to Shirou-san’s place? But why-

Catching herself in the middle of forming various theories to solve the mystery, Miyu found her mind drifting to a singular answer. There was no real logical reason for the association, nor was there any evidence to back it up. She had simply arrived at that abrupt conclusion naturally, almost by instinct. And yet, she was fairly certain she was correct nonetheless.

She’s just like me.

The Emiya household, for all its similarities in appearance to the one in her world, wasn’t home. But at the same time, neither was the one back in her world; like Matou Sakura, Sakatsuki Miyu was not one who belonged in that place.

But the reason they both gravitated towards it... was undoubtedly because he had made them feel they belonged.

So then, Sakura-san-

“Oh, what’s this?”

Cutting into her thoughts was the voice of an old man. Despite the tone carrying no malice and the words carrying no hostility, Miyu still felt a chill down her spine as she turned to face the speaker.

A thin, wrinkly old man with a short stature. At first glance, that was all he was. An ordinary elderly man, whose feebleness was only logical given his apparent age. But all the same, Miyu could not ignore the sense of foreboding that told her in no uncertain terms:

Run.

“How rare for Sakura to bring home a guest,” he said, his lips curling into what she supposed was a smile. Whatever warmth that expression was supposed to express, it did not reach his eyes. “I’m her grandfather, Matou Zouken. Please make yourself-”

The false smile slid off his face almost instantly, and the dark shadows in his eyes grew deeper. With the alertness of a ravenous predator, his gaze bore down on Miyu, who hid behind Sakura on reflex.

“... How curious,” he muttered. “Sakura, you head in first. I recognize our little guest. I need a few words with her.”

Sakura opened her mouth, and for an instant Zouken thought he saw something akin to defiance in her eyes and demeanor before it was forced back down her throat. Sakura had been displaying some odd behavior lately, but he had paid it no mind back then; after all, there was no way Sakura could possibly disobey him.

Not after all that training.

“... I understand,” Sakura said, her voice lacking any of the energy Miyu had become familiar with. Then, as though she had not been the one to invite Miyu here, she simply turned and walked into the mansion, without so much as a glance at the young girl.

“Now then,” Zouken said. “Am I right to assume you’re some manner of imitation of the Holy Grail?”

Miyu froze.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Zouken chuckled. “As one of the original creators of the ritual that is Fuyuki’s Holy Grail War, I’ve developed quite the discerning eye.”

One of the original...? Despite her body being all but petrified, Miyu’s mind worked furiously to process everything she was hearing. But that’s impossible...! Based on Sapphire’s information, this is the fifth Holy Grail War, and the previous four took place 60 years apart! If he had been around since the first one, then...!

“Things have been rather... strange this time,” Zouken went on. “The fifth war taking only ten years to start aside, multiple anomalies have been running around causing trouble. If memory serves... That Emiya boy was collaborating with the copy of the Einzberns’ homunculus, yes? So then are you also-”

“Illya isn’t a copy.”

The fear hadn’t subsided. The revulsion hadn’t dissipated. Yet, in the face of what she took to be a thinly veiled insult towards Illya, Miyu’s lips moved for the first time.

“What did you do to Sakura-san?” she asked, emboldened by the spark of courage her voice gave her. “The Sakura-san I know... is entirely different from the person I saw earlier. What did you do to her?”

“‘The Sakura you know’ huh...” Zouken mused. Then, he let out a hearty laugh. “Well then, how about I show you? The ‘real’ Matou Sakura.”

-

“It’s not my fault!”

Familiar words. Familiar force. Familiar aggression. Everything about the scenario unfolding before Sakura’s eyes was familiar, but a part of her felt incredibly alien.

She knew this pattern. She was accustomed to the direction this would take. She accepted what was coming. It was all a common occurrence to her by now, to the point where she could just leave her body to move automatically, while her mind disconnected itself from the reality thrust upon her.

And yet, a part of her felt out of place. A part of her that, even now, wanted to fight back against whatever was being forced upon her.

“You’re just like them!” Shinji’s words were accompanied by cold prickle of several droplets of spit as they splattered against her face. “Looking down on me... Like you’re all better than I am!”

“Nii-san, that’s not-”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Don’t talk back to me.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Shinji hollered. “Don’t talk back to me!”

I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all your fault.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Rough, familiar hands force her down onto the bed. “It’s all your fault.”

Was it really?

“All your fault... That’s right...”

Was it really?

“No it’s not.”

Shinji froze. A tone unlike anything he ever heard from Sakura had, undoubtedly, just emerged from Sakura’s lips. But there was no way Sakura of all people could defy him. Was there?

The sharp, crisp sound of a palm against flesh echoed throughout the room. As the red mark left by Shinji’s hand slowly bloomed on Sakura’s skin, her eyes grew wide.

Not from the pain. The pain, she was used to by now. Used to worse, in fact. No, she was surprised by her own audacity.

If I just keep quiet, it’ll all be over soon. That’s how it’s always been.

Grandfather seems to have taken a liking to Miyu-chan, too. So then, do I just not need to do anything?

The familiar rustle of clothes reaches her ears.

Am I not needed anymore?

The familiar repugnance at the scent from her brother wafts by her nose.

Why did I endure all those years up to this point?

The familiar resignation at the futility of it all washes over her being.

Why do I have to put up with trash like this?

-

“This... can’t be...”

Words could not express the thoughts racing across Miyu’s eyes as she stared at what was clearly a pit of writhing, squirming worms.

“What’s wrong?” Zouken asked. “As promised, I’m showing you what ‘Matou Sakura’ is all about.”

The mere sight of it made her want to gag, to say nothing of the smell and the horrible, squirming noises coming from that pit of horrors. Zouken hadn’t elaborated on what that pit had to do with Sakura, but it wasn’t difficult to hazard a guess.

“Sapphire-”

With every fiber of her being on high alert, Miyu gave the call for Sapphire to begin her transformation. However, just as she had begun to do so, a strong force pushed her forward, right over the flight of stairs.

And straight towards the writhing pit.

Fortunately, Sapphire had some level of sentience of her own, and a bright flash of light filled the space, causing the worms in the pit to squirm and make strange noises, as though in agony. When the light finally dissipated, Miyu was clad in her purple Magical Girl outfit, complete with the staff that afforded her the powers to defeat evil.

Even though a part of her was quite certain that the evil before her... was something she couldn’t defeat.

“Ah, how amusing,” Zouken chuckled. “Certainly some odd magecraft. You were one of those flying girls tagging along with the Emiya boy, then?”

Miyu reached out and pushed against a solidified block of air, just inches before the worm pit. Using that to steady herself, she broke her fall and jumped into the air, maintaining her position mid-air by standing on seemingly nothing. Unlike Illya, who could fly as though it was second nature, she needed these workarounds in order to emulate flight. And at times like these, that made a lot of difference.

In the second it had taken for her to break her fall, one of the worms in the pit and jumped up and brushed past her arm.

It had been but the briefest of contact. Having seen the monstrosity up close, Miyu was certain those things had fangs of their own. All things considered, simply having one of them briefly brush by her wrist was nothing much.

But she was certain that she would never, ever forget the slimy sensation it had left on her skin for as long as she lived.

Filled with overwhelming revulsion like she had never felt before, Miyu fired off blasts of magical energy at the pit just beneath her. As the pillar of light descended, it crashed into the ground below, sending up dust, debris and the smell of burnt flesh. In barely a second, the pit had been reduced to an almost empty crater, with a few stragglers crawling about helplessly.

Without a word, Miyu fired a few more blasts at where Zouken stood. The sounds of the blasts echoed throughout the chamber, and when the dust clouds finally subsided, the old man was nowhere to be seen. Despite that, his presence was everywhere.

“Let’s not overestimate ourselves here,” Zouken’s voice echoed throughout the revolting space. “You couldn’t even beat a Servant with those powers. Killing me is out of the question for you. Your body would be more useful in my hands.”

A strange chill seized Miyu’s chest, rendering her incapable of any response. Even though the old man had not done much, even just hearing his voice made her hairs stand on end.

Almost on reflex, she blasted a hole through the wall, kicked hard against the solidified air, and threw herself towards the hole with as much force as she could manage.

“Goodness,” Zouken chuckled, his voice echoing in the void. “Such an unruly child... But I guess that’s to be expected from her age. Trying in the face of futility to escape her fate is the privilege of young kids, I suppose.”

Just as he moved to follow after Miyu at his leisure, Zouken paused. He had a clear understanding of just where everyone was within his mansion, simply by their magical energy and a variety of other spells laid out across the place. Naturally, that included Miyu and Sakura, but their location wasn’t the issue.

“Sakura...?”

-

Miyu sped through the corridors, occasionally coughing as she caught her breath. Simply being in the presence of that... thing down there had made her body forget to even breathe, and her heartbeat skyrocketed.

“Sapphire, find Sakura-san!” she managed between gasps.

Must find Sakura-san, she thought, her mind a jumbled mess. Have to run. We have to leave right now!

The idea was sound. The optimism in a successful escape was understandable. But as with many things in life, fate had no intention of acceding to her wishes.

When she finally reached the room, Miyu found Sakura on the other side of the door. A short few meters away was all she needed to cross, to bring Sakura with her as they made their escape. A short distance she could’ve covered in less than a second, and should have done so since Zouken was hot on her heels.

But the sight of Sakura made her stop dead in her tracks.

Laying on the bed, Sakura’s hair was a mess, and her clothes were in the middle of being removed by the man above her. Despite the aggression from the man, Sakura herself simply lay there, as though she was nothing more than a doll.

That was when their eyes met.

For a brief moment, Miyu saw something familiar in her gaze. A lifeless, emotionless doll, incapable of asserting itself against the world around her. Simply waiting helplessly for something, for someone to come along.

In the next moment, something changed. Like a switch flipping on, Sakura’s gaze seemed to recognize Miyu, and a hint of the usual Sakura returned. Except what was in her eyes was not kindess, but fear.

“Don’t... look...”

Miyu didn’t manage to catch the words that managed to slip out of Sakura’s mouth, its volume no louder than a whisper. In the next moment, a burst of magical energy erupted from Sakura’s body, engulfing her and the man above her.

“W-what’s happening?!” Shinji stammered. “S-Sakura! Stop this! Stop this right no-”

The violent eruption of magical energy swallowed his screams. The shockwave knocked Miyu against the wall, slamming the wind from her lungs. Scrambling to her feet, Miyu opened her mouth, but before she could call out to Sakura, she gasped.

Amidst the maelstrom of swirling energy, Miyu thought she caught a glimpse of a very familiar shape.

A... Class Card...?

“Install.”

The burst of magical energy began to calm down, as a wholly new person appeared where Sakura had been. With white hair, dark red eyes and strange red marks on her skin, this new figure wore some sort of armor woven with black ribbons with a red edge. Beneath the armor was what seemed to be a dress made of the same ribbons, flowing around her ankles like snakes. The magical energy felt nothing alike, and the air around her was worlds apart from who she knew.

And yet, that face surely belonged to Matou Sakura.

“Sakura... san...?” Miyu asked.

“Don’t... look...”

As though in a trance, the woman with Sakura’s face muttered those words without looking at Miyu. As she said those words, one of the ribbons around her came to life and thrust itself into the floor between them, piercing into it and sending wooden splinters flying into the air.

She... missed? Miyu wondered, her entire body trembling as she willed herself to look at the figure before her. Her entire body was frozen in fear, but the fact that she missed at this distance allowed Miyu to come to her senses somewhat.

And what she saw there, for the briefest of moments, was the real Matou Sakura.

“Run,” she said, her eyes welling with tears.

In the next moment, the Matou mansion burst apart in an eruption of magical energy and shrieking metal.