Beta read by Shigiya and co written by Gamercrusher55.
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-Wales, Blackmore Village-
(A few years ago.)
Her furthest memories were of a loving family.
She had a father who always played with her outside their house and a mother who was known for making delicious food. The three of them lived out their days happily in their rustic village.
It was not a large town, barely home to a hundred people, and it sat tucked away in the mountains where few outsiders ever came. A trip there took about an hour by bus, making it a quiet and secluded place. The village lacked much in the way of modern technology, but every so often, traveling merchants would arrive to sell their wares. Those were the days that made her happiest, for there was always a plethora of toys, items, and trinkets from all around the country she discovered.
All in all, she was content, with no other duties than to go pray to the statue at the church every day and follow the rules. To her, everything would work out.
Such had been the case for a small but memorable part of her early childhood. Yet changes showed themselves at her doorstep, in the months when frost still clings to the hedgerows, yet the first snowdrops push through the soil… the exact moment she turned five,
She looked at a mirror, and the one looking back was a stranger, not herself.
It… she looked completely different.
She was terrified, as if someone entirely unrecognizable had taken over her body. The memory of her own scream still haunted her, and she could never forget the way her parents had burst into her room, their faces frozen in shock. However, that failed to compare to the reaction from the villagers of Blackmore. For they all gathered around and pulled her close, examining every inch with not fear but hope and awe.
The looks they had given her at the time had been ingrained in the deepest depths of the girl's mind, for how frequently she saw them. The worst being the village elder, that woman couldn't help but let out tears of joy with a look of elation on her face.
Apparently, the elder and many of the villagers knew the face that she had.
Come to think of it, at the time, Gray thought it kind of reminded her of the face on the statue.
Eventually, a gruff man approached her. He was tall and muscly, had dark skin, white hair and beard, wore brown clothes, a cloak made of black feathers, a fedora, and had wrinkles on his face. He looked angry a lot of the time, too.
She knew who he was, the village gravekeeper who looked after Blackmore village all day.
Someone important.
"So this is her?"
"Yes," the village elder replied so excitedly. "Please confirm. We must make sure that she is truly the blessed one. Show how she reacts to the holy treasure."
A shaking occurred underneath the gruff man's cloak as if it tried to get closer to her.
"There is no need; this reaction is proof enough." He pulled out a bird cage from his cloak and set it in front of her. Inside it was a weird box thing with markings all over, and the front had a weird face too. When the eyes turned to her, she couldn't help but let out a girlish scream as it spoke.
"Kyaaaaaaaa"
[Hihihihi, just look at you, what's got you all in knot's brat, is that any way to treat someone you just met, don't you know it's rude to judge based on appearances.]
The buzz all around her wouldn't stop.
"Just look, it's talking, this hasn't happened in over a thousand years, she must be the one."
"That means the promised time is finally upon us."
"To think it would occur in my generation, I can't believe I'm so blessed."
[What a bunch of weirdos, anyway, name's Add, nice to meet ya].
All she could do was stare at the box in shock. The gruff man and priest looked at her with tense gazes.
…
Now, as the days went by, the way the villagers treated her was different; even the kids her age didn't treat her the same. The way they all looked at her as some sort of salvation gave her the creeps. Apparently, the elder explained that she had received a holy blessing that should never be besmirched — the honor of becoming the next King Arthur.
No one in the village grew up without reading about the story of King Arthur; it was basically mandatory there. The legendary future king whose reign had bestowed peace and prosperity all over the land, who was fated to one day return and repeat the feat.
Apparently, her body's transformation had symbolized her being chosen as the next vessel for King Arthur. She didn't like it, the way they all looked at her had completely changed, no they didn't even see Gray anymore, to them she was something else entirely with all recollection of the one who existed before having practically faded from their mind.
It was idol worship.
Gray hated being the idol; no one cared about her anymore. She didn't want to be someone to be prayed to; she wasn't anything special, just human like the rest of them.
As time went on, more changes forced their way into her life. Her father was gone. She didn't know what happened to him, but the answers she received when she asked never pleased her. The fear and sadness wouldn't leave her; she remembered crying for him so much back then.
All she could think of was turning to her mom. However, said woman always got pulled away by the villagers for some important discussions.
Even the village priest, Mister Fernando, so bald and round, didn't really have the best advice for her. Though at least he still called her Gray.
Soon after, the gruff man, whom she now knew as Mr. Gravekeeper, came over to take her. She could still remember how scared she felt when he took her to Blackmore Graveyard.
She never liked this place in the first place, and the fact that there was an actual rule that said you couldn't come here alone only made it worse. Even now, she could feel something off about the air around her, as if something was inside the wind calling out to something. Surrounded by all the tombstones made her shiver, and all she could do was flinch as the man turned to face her.
"Uh, Mr. Gravekeeper, sir."
"The name's Bersac…Bersac Blackmore."
"Uh, okay, Mr. Bersac, sir, why did you bring me here?" She asked, curiosity coating her tone while she tended to the old tombs by removing the excess plants growing onto the tombstone.
The old man took his time at first, but always answered after a few seconds of silence. "Blackmore Graveyard has always been sacred ground to this village. Since you're now someone of importance to this village, you will have to get used to this place as soon as possible."
"I'm not that special. Besides, I don't think anyone should be here for long… Th-There's something here!?"
Bersac narrowed his eyes. "Do you sense the spirits that dwell here?"
His question only made Gray more nervous and scared. "Y-You me-mean there are a-actually gh-ghosts here?"
His nod only made her more frightened.
She could feel something cold on her leg; she wanted to leave right away. This was out of a mystery novel; it should go back there. Yet unknowing, or rather, uncaring of her current emotions—the man continued to speak calmly. "The ghosts here won't hurt you unless provoked. This spiritual ground is essential to the village, so you have no need to worry, as long as you offer the proper respect."
"N-no I-I don't want to be here."
Bersac took a deep breath and got closer to her, looking straight at her face. "Do you fear ghosts?"
Gray nodded her head nervously.
"Good!"
"Good?"
"Being scared of ghosts is important, as their time has come and passed; they should not normally stay in this world. Had you said you weren't scared, I would be even more concerned. Having a decent amount of fear is important in life, especially with someone who deals with spectres."
An… interesting way to explain said matter, not that she disagreed with any of them. Just that the white haired girl was still trying to make sense of things. Trying to stay sane and composed without screaming from fright again.
"O-Ohh."
"Hearing your answer, I can tell it sets my mind at ease. I can't leave this job to someone who doesn't fully comprehend the risks it entails."
"J-job?"
"Due to the agreement we Blackmore Gravekeepers have had with the village, I'm entitled to give you the Magic Crest portion that will allow you to use Add, but that's all. However, your answer has shown me that you are also the most likely individual in the village to inherit my job as Blackmore Gravekeeper. "
The silence that followed was quite deafening until her mind finally caught up, and she couldn't help but let out a startled shout.
"Eeeeeeeeh!?"
Again, he ignored it and continued to speak. "You will inherit the Blackmore name properly when you inherit the full magic crest, but until then, you won't have the right to call yourself it. There's also a chance the village will be able to succeed with their resurrection of King Arthur, so I don't think you should be against calling yourself Pendragon either."
"I-I can't do that! No… No! I don't… I don't… No!"
Bersac looked at the girl, concerned about her outburst. "You are someone whom the village has been waiting for eternity. Not only that, but as someone who was raised here, don't you want to revive King Arthur too?"
Revive him? But at the expense of her own identity, a life no different from accepting a slow death.
The answer itself was quite clear.
"No, I mean I was raised on that story like anyone else, but, but I'm Gray. I'm Gray! I'm Gray! I'm not someone else or anything different. I've always just been me, you can't tell me to just become someone else and not expect me to have anything to say about it."
Bersac's gaze fell on her, though through her tear-blurred vision, he seemed almost unreal. A flood of frustration surged from her, as if years of suppressed anger had finally erupted. Everyone expected her to transform overnight, to discard the person she had always been. But who, really, was this "King Arthur" they wanted her to become? How did they see "Gray" before this?
"Child, this might be hard to understand, but King Arthur is… important to the world. When he returns, it could be a blessing. You might think that's unfair, but life is often unfair, and death can be too. These graves around you prove that. Gravekeepers make sure that no matter what kind of life someone lived, everyone gets the same treatment in the end." He left her with those words, though his words contained the significance of what these changes represented to these people… she still could not accept it.
"I don't want to disappear." She whispered again, her voice trembling with tears barely being held back. In her moment of weakness, she saw the man hesitate before he let out a deep sigh.
"Gray," He called out her name, making the girl turn her attention to him. "Hang in there. I'm sorry, a child like you has to go through this."
From that point on, one could see that her fate had been sealed. Or at least, that was how her younger self would see it. The duties of a gravekeeper demanded a lot, both physically and mentally, taking a toll. Dealing with spirits and the danger they posed, while also slowly seeing the changes occur in herself over the next few years.
The people within the village had long since forgotten her true self; none mourned, none cared, and none missed her. At some point, she wondered just what her true self truly meant to these people, a means to an end? So it seemed.
Yet throughout all of this, some continued to remember. Bersac called her by her name; the man who had taken the role of teacher and guardian differed from the people in the village. She found solace in those she still considered family and friends, who were different from those who had now long since forgotten; he remained as the only one who saw past the one she was supposed to be.
He imparted to her everything she knew, the skills and knowledge a grave keeper would need to quell the spirits before they cause too much damage. Keep the land safe, a tradition one could say that existed for centuries, going so far back that even Bersac had little idea of when it truly began.
During her training, she found another hobby in the form of reading some of his book collection. Falling in love with a specific genre of books… detective novels. It was always so enthralling how the private investigators unraveled the mysteries and found the truth — mystery fiction stories that were always so exciting and fun to read.
With Add keeping her company and helping her during her duties, and Bersac there to talk to, even though he was not good with words… one could say her life had regained a little of that lost stability.
But each passing year, the person in the mirror kept becoming more and more foreign. All semblance of her original self gone, leaving but a few traces in the form of her gray hair color and her green eyes that hadn't yet reached the hue described in the books.
It would be a lie to say she was now growing desperate to find a way to avert this future right before her. Yet she was not sure how, and lacked the knowledge to try out anything drastic.
At some point, she had even given up hope, wondering if she should just accept her fate. Over the years, she slowly went more and more into herself.
That was until a chance to change this outcome came, in the form of two people. A tall, lanky man who smelled of cigarettes who was accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman who exuded confidence and grace just from her appearance alone.
The man in question became the one who not only helped her escape the village… but also swore to help her find a cure. Becoming Gray's second teacher, Waver Velvet, the Lord El-Melloi II.
The one who hated her face, no, feared her face just as much as she despised it.
A deal still echoing within her mind.
"I want you there because the Holy Grail War is a dangerous environment. It's easy to encounter a monster at any point, so I want you to be there to keep me safe, amongst other things. To make sure I stay alive, sorry if there's nothing that can be gained from it when the moment happens. Still I would like to take you there with me." His request, one that he made clear on several occasions.
And each time she had the same answer.
"Yes, but only on the condition that you will keep hating my face."
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{Break}
-Fuyuki-
(Present)
"We tried to find a solution but always came up empty-handed; that is why I need the Grail, not merely to survive, but to remain intact, to avoid dissolving into nothingness and ceasing entirely."
Minutes stretched on, folding into almost an hour as she spoke, the retelling of a past that Shirou and Rider followed in silence. Neither of them interrupted; they simply let the narrative settle around them. Shirou knew there were vast stretches of knowledge he had yet to grasp about the supernatural world. Having grown up in Fuyuki with nothing more than his late father's basic guidance and the brief, almost perfunctory training given by Luvia, he had only skimmed the surface of the arcane. Luvia's gift had been a book belonging to her sister, brimming with spells, most of which were beyond his current capability.
Anything else had remained inaccessible, unless he went ahead and asked Tohsaka for guidance — though part of him just accepted the idea that he lacked the talent for magecraft in general. So, just refining what he already knew was enough. But… all of that really meant nothing against a Servant who blocked his attack as if they were nothing.
Regardless, the idea that someone could manipulate an existence to such a degree, that they could 'summon' a hero of old from the dead by overwriting a person's being to serve as their vessel — until it even reached the point where their physical traits began to conform to another, was almost inconceivable. He could not imagine the horror that came with such a process, and he could not summon empathy for what she endured, not truly, because he lacked the framework to understand it. His gaze drifted toward Saber, who had at some point paused her meal, the fork now hovering midair. A subtle play of disappointment and shame had crossed her face, a silent wound that seemed to steal away her appetite.
"You mentioned that the process has accelerated lately. How much time do you have left?" Rider's voice cut through the room, calm, while Gray merely shook her head, silent in her observation.
"I do not know. It's not just a clear-cut answer, I don't know whether it will be weeks or months," she admitted. "Before, these changes unfolded across years. But after the summoning, I fear it may only be a month or two… something like that."
Shirou could not restrain himself from asking, the words almost spilling out before his mind could filter them. "But how is that possible? If Saber remains by your side, how can you continue to change into her, beyond the physical resemblance?"
"Servants are not the true souls of the heroes who have passed. Those souls remain upon their thrones, while a copy born of a little of their soul's power is used to create a Saint Graph, the core of Heroic Spirits, when the servant's body is formed." Her voice carried a subtle frustration, not the overt malice it had held before, but enough to mark her irritation. "What you see right now are not the actual souls that dwell on the Throne, but little pieces of them given form and power, which will eventually return to them when they expire, — at least, that is what I learned from Sir—uh, Waver."
Saber discreetly turned her head a motion, something that should have been noticed by all but was done so with such intentional control it was almost as if she was scouting her surroundings. But it was noticed by Shirou, as he saw her tightly bend her steel fork, as well as bite her lip tightly.
"Do you notice any change in your own personality?" Rider asked a question that he found himself curious about as well.
"I… do not think so. For now, I like to think I remain myself, to some degree." The response was laced with melancholy, a quiet despair that hinted at truths she had yet to fully acknowledge. The person herself might not realize how much of her essence could be overwritten, how her personality might shift until the transformation became irreversible.
"To add to what I have said, I am not becoming the original King Arthur. According to Sir, it is not a true resurrection, not a restoration of the hero. I am more akin to a soon-to-be clone, bearing her face and memories, slowly supplanting my own. Resurrection of the true hero cannot be achieved without a miracle, and I suspect halting this process would demand another miracle to restore me fully. Sir said, I should fight for myself, and I've decided to do that. I wish only to remain myself. That is the limit of my desire for the Grail. If it can return me to who I am meant to be, that would be a bonus, but I do not expect it. All of this relies on my victory in the Holy Grail War."
Shirou's gaze flickered, thoughts intersecting and overlapping as he rubbed the back of his head, a small gesture of unease. The weight of her words kept pressing upon him, steering his thoughts into tight, restless patterns.
"Like I said, I have no intention of winning this war. I only wish to prevent a repetition of the last conflict, to avoid the same fates that unfolded before."
"The Fuyuki Fire?"
The question hung between them, sharp in its simplicity, yet heavy with the history it invoked. Outside, the city continued its quiet pulse, oblivious to the extraordinary threads of fate being tugged and strained within its streets. Inside, the small room held its breath, the silence a companion to the truths being spoken, truths that weighed as heavily on those who heard them as on the one who had lived them.
"Yes. You do not need to worry. I am not going to be the one to stop you. In fact, I am willing to help you however I can. I only ask that you come forward willingly. I do not want this to turn into a bloody fight with others getting hurt just to reach the point we are trying to avoid."
"But my own life is at stake," she said, her voice steady but firm. "This might be my only chance before it is too late. Even if King Arthur had not been summoned, the transformation would have continued. Even if I ordered her to kill herself to slow my transformation, it would only buy me time. And aside from the Holy Grail, I do not know of any other method that could stop it."
Saber did not react to that statement, only listening.
She paused, as if collecting the traces of her memories and experiences. "Sir and I have traveled across many parts of the world. We have searched for hidden knowledge, ancient texts, and thaumaturgy from eras that nearly brush against the age of gods. We have yet to find anything that could truly help. There are other places we plan to visit, and other people we hope might provide answers, but I do not have the time to wait. I am already running on borrowed time, and every day counts."
The redhead remained quiet, really unable to come up with any comforting words or solution outside of the Holy Grail.
"I am not asking you to give up the Holy Grail," he said after a moment. "I just think there must be another way than to fight and defeat every other servant. Because if you go that route, you will eventually have to face me. I cannot allow you to hurt Rider."
The woman beside him chuckled, low and quiet. "You are doing it again, Shirou. It is still uncertain if Saber could even defeat me. Whether that is meant as a taunt or not, I leave for you to decide." Saber, for her part, said nothing, but her gaze fixed on Rider with a sharpness that made the tension in the room tangible.
"There may be a way. I am not certain. I am not familiar with everything that could be done. Sir might know more, though he has been hesitant to meet you. He even told me to stay away from you. I came here without his knowledge. Now he knows."
He tried to make sense of the warning. Perhaps her "Sir" had learned enough about him to assume a confrontation would happen. Perhaps it was caution born of understanding that he could not yet see. Either way, it made clear that the path ahead was not simple.
"If you agree not to go on a killing spree and instead try to find a way to win the Grail without having to kill others, then I am willing to be your ally," he proposed, as he always did concerning any matters related to the grail… if her teacher were to not have a proper answer then who could they ask for help?
Luvia would not have more knowledge on this matter compared to a Lord. Knowing her, taking out Gray from the picture would be a better outcome, whether it be by force or a deal. He trusted her as a friend and ally, but her methods and his differed greatly.
Rin? Possibly, as the Second Owner, maybe she possessed some knowledge, for all knew. Bazett was missing, and Caster would sooner turn him into cinders than help. He would rather not confront that woman again, or at least not until he managed to get his hand on her Master.
"I do not want to be your enemy," the girl admitted. "I can see that you already have a difficult road ahead, especially with what happened earlier. Why did you even attack Archer, no, a Servant all on your own?"
She gave him a look that told him everything she thought of his actions. He did not need words to know she found them reckless, even suicidal, and if she ever learned the full truth, she would have said exactly that. He had heard it before. People around him got used to it eventually. This was not the first time.
And then, of course, another voice joined in, quick to point out the obvious. This time, even Saber, who was usually the picture of composure, stared at him with surprise. If he hadn't known better, if he didn't understand the difference in their circumstances, he might almost have thought the two women were sisters.
"She's exaggerating," he said, lifting a hand slightly as if that alone might wave away the accusation. "It was just this once. I only meant to buy some time so the others could get away. Berserker and his Master happened to notice me, and I drew their attention."
"You faced what!?"
The sharp tone carried the promise of a lecture, one he did not want to hear again. He had no patience for being scolded when the outcome could not be changed. Before the conversation could dig itself deeper, he shifted it elsewhere.
"That isn't important right now," he said quickly. "If you want to know why I attacked that man earlier, it's because of the house. The Matou house. Someone important to me used to live there, and the things she endured inside it… they were unbearable. I was the one who took her away from it, thinking she was safe at last. But recently she went back. I don't know why. I couldn't just leave her there, so I rushed over to stop her, to pull her away again. But the mansion was already under attack. I was too late. And when I saw him standing there, I thought he was behind it. I didn't think. I just acted."
He stopped there, the memory sitting heavily with him.
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(A little later)
"She really isn't here."
Back at school, Shirou had not allowed himself much hope, but some part of him still clung to the thought that Sakura might return to class. Seeing her seat empty pushed that hope further from reach. Her absence weighed on him more than he wanted to admit.
"Rider," he asked quietly, "can you track another Servant?"
"I can sense their presence if they are close and not trying to hide," Rider answered. "But finding Archer is different. If he is anywhere in the city, and he chooses to stay out of range, then no. That is not something I can do."
So that path was closed. He thought about the city stretched before him, about how far he was willing to go. If it came to it, he would drive every road in Fuyuki, turn every corner, and keep going until Rider caught even the faintest trace.
"Do not trouble yourself too much," Rider said. "I do not think Sakura has come to harm."
"What makes you so sure?" he asked.
"Think back to Archer's words before he left us," she replied. "We may not trust him, but considering this, he had no reason to lie about her. If anything, it seems likely Sakura was the one who summoned him, or that she had some part in it."
"Then why stay away? Why not meet us?" The question left him more confused than before.
"I cannot answer that," Even his Servant found herself incapable of answering that question after a moment. "But I can guess. Perhaps she cannot join us because of her circumstances. Or she chooses to remain apart, to shield us. From Zouken, or from whoever struck the mansion."
Shirou had not forgotten the attacker. Even now, the thought lingered, steady and unresolved. Missiles had rained across the city, tearing apart streets and homes in a way he could not easily process. Even though most of the destruction had centered on the Matou estate and its surroundings, the damage had spread. People had died. He tightened his hand into a fist at the thought of it.
"Do you think it was a Servant?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I think it is unlikely. The weapons were modern. While there are Heroic Spirits from later eras, none come to mind who would fight with such technology. It feels more like a human hand was behind it."
So not a Servant, then? That much seemed certain, though certainty was a fragile thing these days. Too many questions lingered without answers, and the hours slipped away before he could even form the right ones. The only reasonable conclusion was that Sakura knew who this mysterious person was, and that she had chosen, for her own reasons, to deal with them before they appeared openly. Why she had decided on that course, he could not guess. He might have been able to help her, to share the burden, yet she had walked another road without his counsel.
More troubling still, no news of the attack had surfaced. In a world so wired together, disaster usually traveled faster than wind, yet this calamity had been swallowed whole. The people of the town, who had seen fire and heard the thunder of the explosions, were given only a single flimsy explanation. The broadcasts repeated the story without pause: a malfunctioning satellite had fallen from orbit, striking near the town and sparking a chain of ruptured gas lines, which in turn caused the devastation. The excuse was absurd to anyone with a working mind, yet the public accepted it.
Whoever was behind this cover-up did an excellent job keeping all of this under wraps this efficiently, he had to admit.
"Maybe I really need to find Rin and ask her directly," he murmured aloud.
"Ask Rin what?"
The voice startled him. So lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the girl with the broad smile near, her steps quiet across the empty courtyard. He had sought this place precisely because it was empty, hoping for a scrap of peace to untangle his mind.
"Saegusa?" he asked, blinking at her presence. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your friends?"
The girl tilted her head slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Her usual trio was nowhere in sight.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he added, genuinely puzzled.
"Not really," she said, her tone mild. "I was just passing through and noticed you here. It's unusual, seeing you off in a corner like this. Normally, you're with Issei or busy fixing those relics the school still calls air conditioners."
He let out a quiet chuckle. It had indeed been a while since he fixed one of those machines. The thought of slipping back into the role of unpaid janitor might have once been comforting, a distraction to keep his hands busy, but right now, he lacked even that resolve.
"Nothing important," he replied. "Just turning over a few thoughts about work and the upcoming exams. And I don't need to tinker with those air conditioners anymore, thankfully. They broke down so often that even Issei grew tired of sending me to patch them up. So he told the administration to replace them by the end of the month."
Her brows rose. "He can do that?"
"Not really," he admitted with a crooked smile. "He is still only a student, not like that has ever stopped him. He told them that if they didn't replace the units, he'd forbid me from repairing them any further. Then send a formal complaint to the Ministry of Education, complete with photographs and recordings showing how often I was forced to take the janitor's job upon myself."
Her mouth fell open slightly. "He actually said that?"
The redhead nodded. "He meant it, too."
Issei could be really scary when he wanted to, and more efficient than anyone he knew, just to get results. Most likely why he found Rin so difficult to deal with, for he most likely tried to expose her but always failed.
For a moment, Saegusa seemed caught between disbelief and admiration. The notion of a student defying the administration with such boldness wasn't something easily imagined, but then again, Issei had always been capable of results when he put his mind to it.
"The student council president is frightening when he wants to be," she said softly.
"Well, he's earned the students' trust," he answered. "Reliable, steady. You can always count on him."
She gave a small nod of agreement. Looking at her, he realized this was perhaps the longest conversation they had ever shared. At school, they rarely exchanged words beyond a polite greeting. Outside the building's walls, their paths almost never crossed. He would sometimes catch glimpses of her with her friends or walking with Ayako, and nothing more.
"But aside from that," she said suddenly, her eyes glinting with quiet mischief, "you didn't really have to lie about why you're out here." She chuckled softly behind her hand.
"What do you mean?" he asked, wary of the look she gave him.
"You don't have to hide it. It's perfectly fine to spend time with your secret foreign girlfriend. You should probably pay her more attention, though. And tell her to ease up on that strange cosplay of hers. Both of you stand out so painfully that other students have to pretend they don't notice you."
"..."
"... What?"
The word slipped out before he could catch it. For a heartbeat, the world itself seemed to hesitate, his mind freezing in place as though struck by a sudden blow.
"Girlfriend?" he repeated, stunned.
The brunette pouted at his genuine confusion. "You don't have to act like that in front of me. I'm not an idiot, and I promise I can keep secrets! Oh, also, nice to meet you again, miss. My name is Saegusa. I'm in the second year. Nice to meet you! What's your name?"
Much to his disbelief, she was indeed speaking to Rider, and he had not imagined it. The blindfolded woman did not even seem surprised that the girl could see her. Instead, she inclined her head with a small, amicable smile that softened her otherwise striking features.
"Nice to meet you. You can call me Rider."
"Rider? Wow, that's a beautiful name. It sounds exotic. Are you from America?"
"No. I am from Greece."
"Greece! I always wanted to go there!" Her eyes lit up. She leaned closer, her words spilling out in an unending stream. "Tell me, what is your relationship with Emiya? I saw you two together last time, but for some reason, everyone ignored you. They probably thought you were one of the students cosplaying, but I kept insisting you weren't. Then, when I brought it up later, no one even remembered that day anymore. So is it true? Are you in a relationship?"
Her questions came like a Gatling gun, rattling one after another with the wild energy of an overexcited rabbit. Her enthusiasm stood in sharp contrast to the chaotic storm within him as he tried to make sense of what he was witnessing.
"How is this possible?" he muttered under his breath, but neither of them seemed to hear, or if they did, they paid him no attention. Rider's voice cut through, calm and steady.
"Shirou and I, you could say, have a… close, very close connection. He is my Master, and I am his Servant." He choked a bit at her answer, wondering why she had to say it and, worst of all, phrase it like that!
The words landed like a thunderclap to the short-haired school girl; she snapped her head toward him, her disbelief plain. "What!? A Master? A Servant? Wait a minute…" her thoughts tumbled into half-formed accusations and incredulous doubt.
Saegusa's cheeks flamed crimson. She slapped her hands to her face as if the very thought embarrassed her beyond measure. "You're actually into that stuff!? I don't even know how to react to this! I should go tell Ayako!"
"No, wait!" Panic gripped him. If this spiraled further, things would slip out of control. He had to stop her, clarify matters, and handle the situation before it ran wild. For a fleeting moment, he cursed himself for never putting effort into mental interference magecraft. If he had started years ago, maybe by now he could have reached a level of basic proficiency, enough to nudge her perception. But the chance was long gone, and all he had was his tongue.
"No! It's nothing like that," he said quickly, forcing steadiness into his voice. "Rider is just teasing you! She's a friend of my father, here only to talk with me because there's nothing to do at home. She isn't my girlfriend!"
Rider tilted her head, the faintest trace of playfulness curling her lips. "So you have been deceiving me this entire time, Shirou? How hurtful… You said you'd even die for me."
She spoke with an airy mockery, but even through the blindfold, there seemed to be a depth of wounded expression, carefully feigned yet convincing enough to fool the untrained eye. Saegusa turned on him at once, glaring with open disapproval.
"You shouldn't do that! Even if you're shy or don't want to make a relationship public, that is no excuse to hurt a young woman's heart, especially one as pretty as hers! Apologize to her right now, Emiya."
"What?"
"You heard me. I won't leave this place, and neither will you, until you do so."
Her stubbornness was immovable, and he knew it. With a weary roll of his eyes, he gave in. Turning to Rider, he offered her a reluctant, frustrated look. She met it with amusement, a mischievous smile tugging faintly at her lips.
Knowing when he was fighting a losing battle, especially against two women, the boy did not fight back any longer. "I am sorry."
That only made Rider's smile grow; she was having fun at his expense! "I'm glad to hear that. I accept your apology… but there won't be a next time."
"You sure are having quite a bit of fun at my misery. Are you not afraid I'll return the favor!" He complained at the brunette, who giggled, lips curling in a mischievous grin as if she had been waiting for this moment.
"Hehehe, sorry about that. I couldn't help myself. Still, you're lucky to have someone so pretty. I've never seen hair that soft on anyone else. It looks like strands of silk. But what's with the blindfold, really? Is she cosplaying as a game character?"
Shirou felt his throat tighten. Once again, he had been pushed into a corner, needing to cover Rider's presence without drawing suspicion. His mind raced for an excuse that sounded natural enough to pass.
"You see, Rider's eyes are actually quite sensitive to sunlight. Usually she wears glasses, but they broke recently, so now she wears these during the day to keep herself safe. As for the outfit… uh… that's what they wear in Greece?" It was so bad that he himself could point out the obvious from a mile away and recognize how all of this sounded made up.
But somehow, things did not go the way he thought they would.
"Oh, so that's it. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it gets better for her," the girl said before the bell rang through the halls. She straightened her bag with a little bounce. "Ah, looks like classes are starting soon. I should be going. Take care, Shirou! You too, Rider!"
He stood there for a moment, eyes following her until she turned the corner. His faint smile drained away, leaving his face drawn and tense. He turned sharply toward Rider, searching her veiled features as if demanding an answer that refused to surface. She only gave the smallest shrug before speaking.
"It is very likely she possesses a form of Mystic Eyes, one that allows her to perceive spiritual beings like Servants. Rare, but not impossible."
"So hiding from her is pointless?" he asked, voice carrying more worry than he meant to reveal.
"Not pointless. Only more difficult," Rider replied in her calm way. "From what I can tell, she knows nothing of the supernatural world. At most, she might confuse another Servant for someone unusual, but not more than that. Her sight gives her awareness, not understanding."
"Then why didn't you tell me sooner? You've been by my side since I started school. You had to know she could see you."
"I forgot," she said simply.
He frowned. There was more to it, he was certain, but Rider offered no explanation.
"You're not planning on asking her to help us track Archer, are you?"
His body stiffened at the suggestion. He turned away and let out a long breath. "I can't. It would put her in danger. I won't deny the thought came to me, but involving her would be reckless."
"The choice is yours," Rider answered.
Shirou let the silence sit for a moment before nodding. The idea tugged at him, but the risk was too high. Saegusa was an ordinary student, untrained and unprotected. Involving her could end like Ayako, who had once nearly stumbled into disaster because of him. Even if Bazett would only erase her memories, Shirou could not gamble on other magi in the city. Some would kill without hesitation.
"I'll avoid her as best I can. Let's head back," he said at last. His plan hadn't changed—Rin remained the only lead if he wanted answers about Archer.
The hours that followed slipped by in a blur. Classes dragged on without weight, the lessons passing unheard while his mind circled the same plans over and over. By the time he noticed the day had ended, the sky was already tinted orange, and the halls emptied with the sound of students heading home.
Issei had duties waiting at the temple, which left Shirou free sooner than usual. He was already turning his thoughts toward finding Rin when the warning in his body reacted all at once.
"—!"
His instincts screamed, pulling him aside just as a streak of red light tore through the air. It carved into the wall beside him, sending dust and fragments scattering.
"Rin!? What are you doing!?" Shirou shouted, shock plain in his voice.
Across the courtyard, Rin stood with one arm raised. Her hand shaped like a finger gun, a glow of red light gathering at her pointed finger. Her face was set, eyes fixed straight on him. "Hey there, Emiya… You've got quite the nerves coming here today. Is this supposed to be some sort of provocation?"
"What?"
"You wouldn't happen to know where Sakura is, right?" She asked with a scary smile on her face. Just now, he planned to find her and discuss this matter exactly, but he did not expect her to come to him in such a manner.
"Actually, I wanted to discuss this matter with you. Someone is after her, and I need your help to deal with this matter as soon as possible."
"Oh really?" Slowly but surely, the smile on her face died down before being replaced by a cold gaze looking right at him. "Don't take me for a fool. It is mighty convenient that during our last conversation, you forgot to mention that your father was the Magus Killer."
Oh… now her reaction makes sense.
"Watch out, Shirou!" Rider appeared in front of him right in time to deflect and attack from another being, the sound of steel meeting steel followed by sparks flying in the air. Both people jumped back behind their respective masters, with Shirou's eyes immediately zeroing in on the blood crimson eyes and crimson spear held firmly by the blue-haired man.
Another Servant.
"I didn't mean to hide it from you, Tohsaka. But this is not the right time to bring this matter up; we can discuss this another time. We have more important matters to deal with."
Perhaps his choice of words was not the best, for her eyes narrowed, and the servant behind her even shook his head as if to pity him.
"So the death of my father and the fall of my family by the hands of your father is not that important, huh… now Sakura also got involved. You won't get away from me without answering a few questions." On cue, Lancer brandished his spear and walked in front of her.
"Hey, kid, I'd advise you to listen to the little miss over here. She's been pretty pissed since the attack."
Yeah, he could clearly see that.
Damn it, fighting was really the last thing he wanted to do now.
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The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.