The Q&A exchanges between Shirou and Eri had continued intermittently for the past two days. And while many of the girl's questions were actually quite reasonable, some… were clearly not.
Sometimes while they walked to the harbor, Eri would point to the massive shipping containers and ask where they were being transported from. But other times, out of nowhere, she would ask whether the other side of the sea belonged to the Free World or the enemy.
At first, Shirou thought she was just going through a chūnibyō phase. But when they arrived at the park at the base of the mountain, Eri asked again—why wasn't there any conflict on the streets between Britannia and the Liberation Army? Had Area 11's oppression already ended?
That's when Shirou finally realized the gravity of the situation.
Eri's worldview wasn't just a blank slate caused by long-term isolation.
No. It was a distorted reality built from the settings of various anime she'd been allowed to watch.
Apparently, to keep her mind stable and her divine vessel status under control, Eri's family—specifically Genji Asao's—had only permitted limited forms of entertainment like video games and anime. But they'd utterly failed to provide her with basic education.
According to Eri, her older brother had only occasionally played games with her. He never explained the real world.
So, all those blanks in her knowledge had been filled in by anime plotlines and world settings.
It was… both surprising and sadly understandable.
"You really believed all that stuff?" Shirou asked.
Eri blinked and nodded earnestly.
"You ran away from home so many times just to find out whether those worlds were real?" he added.
She nodded again and wrote on her notebook:
"I was really curious about the outside world. But I was also scared and hesitant. That's why I always got caught by the family and failed."
"I see…"
Shirou could only imagine how chaotic her internal world must have been—a messy blend of narratives, timelines, and themes from a dozen anime, all interwoven into one unstable, turbulent perception of reality.
To leave home under those conditions must've felt like the kind of bold, perilous quest an adventurer undertakes.
And he—who had taken her out of the city she'd always known—was, in her eyes, probably some kind of seasoned warrior or elite mercenary, capable of guiding her through a beautiful and perilous world.
…But of course, those were just the strange fantasies of a little girl.
Shirou was powerful, yes. But he was no A-Laws soldier. He'd never met the Black Knights led by Zero. To establish a full-scale Gundam army, you'd have to go back thousands of years and recreate Age of Gods technology from scratch…
As time slipped by during their chats, the sun dipped westward and slowly sank into the sea, casting long reflections across the shimmering water.
The next evening, Shirou stood near the dock. After a busy day, the bay was calming down, the human activity along the shore thinning out into the distance.
He began slowly explaining to Eri what the real world was like. About the cultures across the world, about the "Reverse Side," the Clock Tower, the mage associations, the long-standing war between Dead Apostles and the Church, and the bloodlines of non-human hybrids that upheld the secrecy of the magical world…
Eri listened intently, and then quietly wrote in her notebook:
"So that's what the world outside is like."
"Yeah." Shirou gently patted her head, the way one might comfort a child. Her mental age often led him to do that subconsciously.
"This world doesn't have grand tales and epic battles like you imagined. Reality is often cruel. People hurt each other over all kinds of things. And for the average person, ignorance is the only path to peace. In the distant past, when gods ruled, humans could only survive by kneeling under their palm."
"What about now? Where did the gods go?"
"They gave up their throne to humanity. They faded away and returned to their divine seats. If you want to see one, Eri, you'd have to travel to the far edge of the world."
"So the gods were kind to give the world back to humans."
"They loved humanity," Shirou said vaguely, like quoting Christian scripture. What he didn't say was that divine "love" was often a crushing burden—something humanity needed to escape from as soon as possible.
Eri didn't seem too disappointed. In fact, she still looked full of curiosity. Her fears had mostly come from facing a world she didn't understand. Now that she had a clearer picture—even if it was still a hidden side of the world—she saw this reality as a grand and thrilling adventure.
But Shirou didn't have time to keep humoring her imagination.
Right then, his phone rang. It was a sudden call from Genji Asao.
The young clan head got straight to the point: a full investigation of Aoiya would begin tomorrow at a specified hour. If Shirou wanted in, Genji could appoint him to a temporary position so he could join them on-site.
"Alright. I'll be there," Shirou said after a short exchange.
Eri, who had overheard her brother's voice on the phone, gripped her notebook tightly and looked up, worried. She feared her brother had finally found them.
"Relax. He's not here to drag you back. I'm just going to be working with him tomorrow. Nothing to do with you."
Eri's eyes flickered, then she nodded solemnly and raised her notebook:
"I'll stay home tomorrow. I won't run off."
———
Shinjuku Ward—Tokyo's commercial and nightlife hub. It also happened to be one of the most concentrated centers of yakuza activity.
Within Shinjuku lay the infamous red-light district of Kabukichō. Over a hundred yakuza offices operated there, housing over a thousand active members—a literal paradise for illicit transactions.
Given that Aoiya served as a mediator between various underworld organizations, it wasn't surprising that their headquarters was located in this very district.
"Shirou, this isn't your first time in Kabukichō, is it? You don't seem surprised at all," Genji Asao asked casually.
They were seated in his military-grade SUV. Shirou had been invited to ride beside the clan head himself.
"When I first came here, I was nearly scared stiff by all the 'friendly' street girls. I'm just better at hiding it now," Shirou replied dryly. "But you've been totally calm this whole time. Don't tell me you're a regular?"
That line almost made their driver, Yabuki Sakura, slam the brakes.
"I'm not! It's my first time here too!" Genji quickly retorted. "I just don't show surprise on my face. I'm not like those creeps who hang around here all the time."
Soon, their convoy arrived at Aoiya's compound—a traditional Japanese estate with a wabi-sabi aesthetic. The moment the investigation team pulled up, Aoiya's members emerged and lined up respectfully as if they'd been pre-warned.
Seeing such a formation, Genji grew wary. Was this a subtle show of force? A warning from the black market network? After all, the Saiki Eight Families were taking aim at an organization tied to dozens of gangs. Tension was inevitable.
"Your leader is supposed to be Aoiya Taihō. Where is she? Bring her out," Genji ordered.
A burly, heavily tattooed man stepped forward and bowed. "That would be me, sir."
Genji raised an eyebrow. "That's strange. Our intel says Aoiya Taihō is a plump middle-aged woman. Are you claiming to be her?"
The man's face tensed as cold sweat gathered at his brow. Facing a member of the Saiki Eight Families was like facing a shadow emperor of the yakuza world. But even so, he had to push forward.
"Lady Taihō fell ill a few days ago. She handed over all responsibilities to me."
"A few days ago?" Genji narrowed his eyes. "That's awfully convenient…"
"Take us to your records archive," Genji commanded coldly. "Especially the transaction logs with your clients. Don't worry—this is for a major family operation. If you cooperate, we might even raise your credibility score."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The Saiki family's Iwaryu Research Lab was developing a new cloud system called Kaguya-hime to rival the Secret Party's Noma. They were digitizing massive volumes of data, so the request was logical.
The group entered Aoiya's massive, fireproofed archive room. The overwhelming paper records revealed how little Aoiya had modernized.
Genji didn't care. He ordered his team to scan everything while he sat like a proper young lord sipping tea.
"Report to me if anything strange comes up," he told Yabuki Sakura.
"Yes, sir. We already found records of multiple meetings between Aoiya Taihō and a South American gang leader named 'Pig Nio.' The contents were erased, but he's definitely suspicious."
"Good. Prioritize investigating him."
Meanwhile, Shirou wandered around pretending to help. But he was actually scanning for danger… traps, ambushes…
Suddenly, he heard a faint crack.
"…Hmm?"
He opened his senses wide. The cracking grew louder—hairline fractures silently spread from a corner in the ceiling, spidering across the walls.
"Watch out!"
His voice echoed just as he muttered a short chant and thrust his hand forward. Orange flames swirled as his Noble Phantasm began to grow from his palm.
BOOM!
The room shattered in an instant.
The ceiling and walls collapsed like fragile sand. Shirou unleashed a storm to blast away the deadly debris.
But then he saw it—a colorful, curved sword, crackling like a whip, flashing through the dust.
Wait, that sword—like a whip—could it be!?
"Battle. Destruction. Slaughter."
A brown-skinned girl in a gown resembling a wedding dress stood proudly, radiating a chilling air.
Attila the Hun, King of the Huns—sword in hand.
(End of Chapter)
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