When I came back to the waking world, the exhaustion hit me like a lead weight. My body felt heavy, my mind sluggish, and for once, I didn't feel the itch to immediately start training. I decided to sleep in early instead of practicing magecraft that night. It wasn't just laziness — part of me knew it might be for the better. If I kept pushing too hard, the Lesser Grail would notice something was off. And if Sakura decided to stay behind to "take care of her senpai," that would be a problem I didn't want to deal with yet.
Now, you might be wondering why I keep calling Sakura the Lesser Grail instead of, you know, Sakura. The truth? I don't care about saving her. I know, I know — that's not the noble, humane thing to say. But I'm not here to play the hero for free. I'm here to survive. And survival means prioritizing what I can actually change. Unlike other Shirou inserts you read about, I don't have a convenient system feeding me quests, no True Magic falling into my lap, no divine intervention. All I have are Shirou's talents, my own stubborn will, and better circuits than he ever had. That's it.
The only realistic time I could save her would be after my battle with Archer. By then, I'd have his projections stored in my Reality Marble, and that would give me the tools to actually make a difference. Until then? With my current abilities, I'd just be another puppet for Zouken to pull apart and torment. And I refuse to be that.
Enough about her. That night, I woke again and went straight back to my experiments with reinforcing food. And once again, I failed. Over and over. For most people, repeated failure like that would chip away at their confidence. They'd start doubting themselves, maybe even give up. But if there's one thing Shirou and I share, it's that we don't quit. Ever. I can't afford to lose motivation — not when my first encounter with Lancer could be my last if I'm not ready. I have no intention of being "saved" like Shirou was. I intend to walk my own path, one that doesn't rely on anyone else's mercy.
I want to become a real Heroic Spirit — not some half-baked Counter Guardian with a tragic backstory, but a Servant with actual good stats. I want to qualify for the Saber class. I know the requirements: you need to be remembered as a legend with the blade. But if Elizabeth Bathory can be summoned as a Saber, then so can I. That thought burned in my chest like a challenge to the universe.
With that declaration etched into my soul, I kept at it. Days and nights blurred together as I worked on reinforcing food. And finally, after countless failures, I mastered it. The first bite of properly reinforced food was… indescribable. The taste was richer, sharper, more alive. The energy it gave me was like a clean fire in my veins. With my improved circuits, I could do it without wasting a drop of mana. I knew right then I'd never stop eating reinforced food — not just for the taste, but for the edge it gave me.
With that milestone behind me, I turned to the next challenge: reinforcing my own body. Risky? Absolutely. But in this world, you don't survive without taking risks. I started by analyzing myself, trying to push my already healthy body into something greater. But the process was slow, clumsy, and disgustingly inefficient in mana use. I cringed at how much energy I was wasting. Everything else had come so easily, and now I'd hit a wall. It was frustrating, but I told myself maybe a good night's sleep would help.
The cycle repeated for four days: wake, practice, fail, repeat. The frustration built, but I didn't let it break me. Instead, I tried to think differently. That's when it hit me — Shirou's element and origin are both "sword." What if I imagined my body as a sword being reinforced? If I treated my muscles, bones, and nerves like the steel, edge, and balance of a blade, maybe the process would align better with my nature.
I tried it. And it worked. The difference was immediate. I could reinforce my body to superhuman levels with just that visualization. The mana flowed cleaner, the reinforcement held stronger. I spent the next seven days practicing, making sure I could move naturally without overcompensating or flailing like a rookie. Once I had the basics down, I pushed further — acrobatics, parkour, rooftop jumps. If I wanted to be Saber-class material, I needed agility as much as raw strength.
Two months passed since my arrival in this world. Two months of relentless training, of fighting imaginary opponents under the moonlight, of feeling my body and magecraft sharpen into something dangerous. With my foundation set, it was time to tackle my bread and butter: tracing.
I went to the floorboards where the Thompson Contender was hidden and began the seven steps.
Trace on.
Judge the concept of creation.
Hypothesize the basic structure.
Duplicate the composition material.
Imitate the skill of making.
Sympathize with the experience of its growth.
Reproduce the accumulated years.
Excel every manufacturing process.
As the image solidified in my mind, the weapon began to take shape in my hand. I could almost hear the Unlimited Codes UBW theme swelling in the background. When the crescendo hit, the gun was there — solid, real — and with it came the memories of its creation. I didn't expect the sight of Kayneth losing his circuits to give me chills, or the satisfaction Kiritsugu felt when the bullet did its work. But it did.
The tracing worked too well. I didn't just have the gun — I had Kiritsugu's knowledge of how to use it, how to kill with it. I wasn't bothered. In fact, I welcomed it. I traced the bullets too, ensuring I could make more whenever I needed. Then I moved on to the other cache under the floorboards — guns, knives, all of it. I traced each one, absorbing Kiritsugu's experience with them. I traced every bullet. I would never run out of ammunition when it came time to make my legend.
By the end, I was drained. Tracing swords barely cost Shirou anything, but guns? That was a different story. My mana efficiency was garbage compared to what it could be. I knew I needed more time before I could rely on these skills in a real fight.
The next night, I woke feeling… reckless. Like I had something to prove. Maybe I did. Maybe I was just bored of training. Whatever the reason, I decided to go out. To test myself. To be Batman for a night. I told myself it was about field experience, but deep down, I think I just wanted to hit something that could hit back.
I'm glad I did. And I'm not. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. The streets at night felt different when you were hunting instead of walking. Every shadow was a potential threat, every sound a possible target. My reinforced body felt like a coiled spring, ready to unleash. But the reality of facing another human — someone unpredictable, someone who could hurt me — was a sobering reminder that no amount of training in the shed could fully prepare me for the chaos of a real fight.
Still, as I moved through the dark, I felt something settle in me. A quiet certainty. I wasn't just playing at being Shirou Emiya anymore. I was becoming something else entirely — someone who could survive the Holy Grail War on their own terms. And that thought was worth every risk I'd taken so far.