Rin, Ritsuka, and Jeanne were walking, with Gilgamesh being in spirit form.
Jeanne was hiding herself in a raincoat, so no enemy servant knew it was her.
Ritsuka looked at her a he scratched. "You know, you can go too Spirit form, right?".
Jeanne just looked at her master as she spoke. "Yes, but this is ok with me, as I can more quickly protect you, master".
Ritsuka didn't know how to feel about that; he wondered if this was taking more energy for her, but he kept waking with Rin. "So, this Priest? He manages the Holy Grail".
Rin nodded as he spoke. "Yes, the church has been doing that, since the 3 wars".
Ritsuka blinked a he spoke. "Why do?"
Rin just chuckled as she didn't make eye contact. "Let's say, shit wet crazy and bloody in the second war in 1860".
Jeanne adjusted her hood, keeping her expression calm even as she stayed close to Ritsuka. "The church plays the role of mediator," she said softly. "To prevent the Grail War from collapsing into pure slaughter."
Ritsuka raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, because nothing about seven people summoning super-weapons to fight to the death screams orderly."
Gilgamesh's laugh echoed faintly in spirit form. "For once, the mongrel is right. A game of kings dressed up as a ritual—organized chaos at best."
Rin sighed. "Don't think too highly of them. The church isn't here to babysit. Their job is to keep the war contained—keep civilians in the dark, dispose of Masters who break the rules too obviously, and make sure the Grail appears at the end. They're referees… with knives."
Ritsuka frowned. "…Sounds like mob bosses, but holy."
"That's not… entirely wrong," Rin muttered.
They kept walking until the looming silhouette of the church appeared on the hill, its gothic frame sharp against the night sky. A faint bell tolled, echoing in the cold air.
Ritsuka shoved his hands into his pockets. "Guess this is it, huh? So, what's this priest like?"
Rin's steps slowed just slightly. "You'll see. Just… don't trust him too much."
Jeanne glanced at her, curious. "You speak as if you already know him."
Rin exhaled through her nose, her expression tightening. "Let's just say the church has… a way of putting people in places you don't expect."
Gilgamesh's chuckle rumbled again, low and amused. "Oh, this will be entertaining. I've been waiting to see which mongrel the Grail has given that position this time."
The trio stepped inside the church. The heavy doors creaked open, letting in the cool night air behind them. The interior was what one would expect of a modest Fuyuki church—solemn, clean, and carefully maintained. Candles burned faintly at the altar, their light mixing with the pale shaft of moonlight that spilled in through the stained glass window.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Though the place had never been popular in Ritsuka's memory, he had heard the stories. After the Great Fire, a new priest had taken up residence here, and somehow, the church had begun to draw people again. Locals claimed the man had a gift for listening, for easing burdens. A priest with real warmth, they said.
Ritsuka didn't know what to make of it. But he did remember, faintly, seeing his father exchange words with a man in white vestments, his hair as pale as snow.
The silence broke.
"So, you came after all, Rin. And here I thought you'd try to skip today's little visit."
The voice was calm, smooth—pleasant even. But there was a weight beneath it, a sharpness that made Jeanne subtly step in front of Ritsuka.
From the upper stairwell, a man descended. He was young, his appearance striking: white hair that gleamed under the moonlight, skin tanned as if kissed by a different sun, and robes that blended the solemnity of priestly attire with something more theatrical.
He smiled gently, though his eyes carried something harder to read.
[Insert image of Amakusa Shirou Tokisada]
"And you've brought company," he continued. "How fortunate. Introductions are in order, then." He spread his hands in a graceful gesture. "I am Shirou Kotomine. A pleasure to meet all of you."
Jeanne's hand hovered close to her hidden weapon. She didn't like the way his presence pressed against the room, like a whisper at the back of her mind.
Ritsuka blinked. Kotomine? That name tugged at something—memories of stories his father once told, memories that made his stomach tighten.
Jeanne kept her face carefully neutral, but her shoulders were stiff.
"...Shirou Kotomine," she echoed, her tone carrying a faint edge. "So you're the one managing the Grail this time."
The priest chuckled lightly, descending the last step with unhurried grace.
"Managing?" His lips curved into a smile that was equal parts kind and mocking. "No, no, Girl. I prefer to think of it as… shepherding. Ensuring that the Grail War proceeds as Heaven intended, without… unnecessary chaos." His gaze flicked briefly to Jeanne, then Ritsuka. "And of course, making sure the participants are properly informed. After all, rules are important, aren't they?"
Ritsuka frowned. He wasn't sure if the warmth in the man's voice was genuine, or if it was the kind of warmth that came right before a snake's bite.
Rin sighed, folding her arms.
"Ritsuka, meet Shirou. He's… basically the referee for this Grail War."
Amakusa's lips curved faintly as he glanced at her. "Referee, hm? How cold. And here I thought you might at least call me Father in front of guests." He chuckled softly, then turned his sharp gaze toward Ritsuka. "But tell me—what exactly are you and your companions? Stray lambs, or something more?"
Rin exhaled through her nose. "The Master of Saber… and his Servant."
For the first time, Amakusa's expression shifted. A glint of amusement sparked in his eyes.
"Ahh. So, just like the last war's Caster. A complete nobody."
Ritsuka's jaw dropped. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean!?"
Amakusa laughed lightly, his voice smooth but edged with something sly. "Don't take it personally, boy. In the Holy Grail War, nobodies are the rule, not the exception. The War delights in throwing the unprepared into its jaws."
Ritsuka frowned, but Jeanne stepped forward before he could argue further. Her eyes, sharp and protective, stayed locked on the priest.
"Rin, you clearly know this man. Shirou Kotomine, was it? What's your connection to him?"
Rin froze for a moment, her confidence cracking just slightly. Then she forced a laugh and scratched her cheek.
"Well, you see… funny story. He's… kind of my dad."
"What?!" Ritsuka blurted, staring between them.
Amakusa's smile widened as he stepped closer, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. His presence pressed down like incense smoke—calm, but suffocating.
"What Rin means," he said smoothly, "is that I am her guardian. A promise I made to her father, before his… untimely death. A duty I have carried ever since."
His words were wrapped in warmth, but his eyes stayed fixed on Ritsuka—assessing, weighing.
Gilgamesh's spirit form whispered faintly in Ritsuka's ear, his tone laced with disdain.
"Guardian, he says. Hmph. That man stinks of falsehood. Careful, mongrel—he wears a mask far thicker than that raincoat your saint hides under."
Jeanne's grip on her sleeve tightened, her expression unreadable.
Ritsuka swallowed. Something about this "referee" felt far too rehearsed.
Amakusa's eyes lingered on Ritsuka, calm but probing.
"So then… what is your full name, boy?"
Ritsuka blinked, then straightened slightly.
"Ritsuka Fujimaru Emiya."
The name echoed faintly in the hollow church.
Amakusa froze mid-step. For a moment, his smile faltered. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, something sharp flickering beneath the mask of serenity.
"…Emiya," he repeated slowly, tasting the name as though it carried weight. Then, in the next breath, his warmth returned as if nothing had happened. "Very well. A name is a burden and a banner both. Carry it carefully."
Ritsuka shifted uncomfortably. Jeanne noticed the priest's microexpression but said nothing, simply watching.
Amakusa clasped his hands behind his back and paced toward the altar, his voice rising in practiced rhythm—half sermon, half lecture.
"Now then. As Rin has surely told you, this city is host to the Holy Grail War—an ancient ritual to summon seven Heroic Spirits. Masters and Servants alike compete, and through their battle, the Holy Grail shall be filled. When the dust settles, one pair alone shall remain to claim the prize: a cup capable of granting any wish."
He turned, the candlelight outlining his silhouette like a painted saint.
"The rules are simple. Seven Masters, seven Servants. One command seal per Master, three uses. Victory is achieved when all other Masters and Servants have been eliminated—or when the Grail itself decrees the end."
His tone softened, but his eyes gleamed.
"You may call this a death match if you like. But I prefer to think of it as… divine selection."
Jeanne's brows furrowed. "You speak of slaughter as if it were holy."
Amakusa smiled gently at her, his expression the very picture of benevolence.
"Only when the Grail calls it so, dear saint. After all… are you not a Servant chosen by the same ritual?"
The air grew heavier. Rin looked away, clearly uncomfortable. Ritsuka clenched his fists but held his tongue.
Ritsuka's voice cut through the heavy air of the church.
"Can the Grail grant any wish?"
Amakusa turned his gaze on him, serene as ever.
"Yes. Any wish within its scope."
Ritsuka hesitated, his throat tightening before he forced the words out.
"Even… bring back the dead?"
The church went still.
Rin's breath caught; she turned her head sharply, eyes wide, lips pressed thin. She knew exactly whose death Ritsuka was thinking of, but she bit back the urge to speak.
Jeanne's expression softened, her hand unconsciously tightening near her chest. As one who bore the weight of martyrdom herself, the question cut her deeply—an innocent plea, yet also a dangerous temptation.
Even Gilgamesh's spirit form stirred, golden eyes narrowing. "Foolish boy…" he muttered under his breath, though whether in scorn or reluctant sympathy was unclear.
Amakusa, however, did not flinch. His smile deepened, soft as velvet, almost tender. But for a fleeting second, a shadow flickered in his eyes, something hungry.
"Yes," he said at last, his tone carrying the gravity of confession. "The Grail can even call back the departed… if that is your truest desire."
His words lingered like incense smoke, sweet and suffocating.
Ritsuka lowered his gaze. His right hand trembled slightly as he stared at the red Command Seals etched across it, their flag-like design glowing faintly under the church's moonlit windows.
"Very well," he said, his voice firmer than before. "I will fight in this war."
Amakusa's smile widened ever so slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. He leaned forward, folding his hands as though in prayer.
"Then allow me one question, young Master. Who is it… that you wish to bring back by defying the one absolute rule of life?"
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Ritsuka's lips pressed into a thin line. His fists clenched. And then, slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Amakusa's.
"…My sister."
The word sister echoed in the church like a bell toll.
Rin gasped softly, her brows knitting as her anger faltered into something closer to pity.
Jeanne's breath hitched, her violet eyes widening before softening with quiet sorrow. She placed a hand on Ritsuka's shoulder, steady and protective.
Even Gilgamesh's golden eyes narrowed in thought—no mockery this time, only cold appraisal, as if weighing this boy's resolve against the countless kings and warriors he had seen chase impossible dreams.
Amakusa closed his eyes briefly, murmuring almost like a prayer.
"…So that is your wish."
When he opened them again, the glint in his gaze was unmistakable—part sympathy, part dangerous approval.
Jeanne, Ritsuka, Rin, and Gilgamesh left the church, the heavy doors creaking shut behind them. Before they could descend the steps, Amakusa's calm voice stopped them.
"Rin, aren't you forgetting something?"
Rin froze, then patted herself down. "Right, sorry."
She turned back, walked briskly to him, and retrieved a silver cross necklace from his hand. Without hesitation, she slipped it around her neck.
Ritsuka blinked. That necklace… she wears it every day at school. Except yesterday.
As the four finally left the church grounds, Rin halted mid-step, her expression serious. She turned on her heel to face him.
"You really want to fight in this war?" she asked, voice low, almost demanding.
Ritsuka met her eyes without flinching. "Yes. And I'll try to win."
Rin exhaled sharply through her nose, frustration and resignation mixing together. "Fine. But tell me this—do you even know magecraft?"
Ritsuka tilted his head. "Yeah. Reinforcement and Time Alter. My father taught me. He also drilled me in first aid and survival skills."
Rin's sigh started as tired… but then her brain caught up.
"…That's good and al—" She froze mid-sentence. Her eyes widened. She whipped around, nearly grabbing his collar.
"Wait. Did you just say Time Alter?!"
Even Gilgamesh manifested half into spirit form just to raise an eyebrow. Jeanne tilted her head, puzzled, while Ritsuka scratched his cheek, suddenly aware of the weight of their stares.
"Uh… yeah? Is that bad?"
Rin's jaw clenched. "Bad? That's not beginner magecraft, idiot! That's advanced Temporal Acceleration! Even most Clock Tower professors can't stabilize it without destroying their own nerves!"
Ritsuka blinked at her outburst, then muttered under his breath, "Dad said the same thing the first ten times I collapsed trying it…"
Rin staggered back, hands in her hair, muttering curses. Jeanne looked between them, lips pressed together in concern.
Gilgamesh just smirked knowingly. "So the mongrel has claws after all. How amusing."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy