Late at night, nestled in her futon, Shirō's dreams twisted into something strange and haunting.
She stood there, clad in that familiar blue dress, her body encased in silver armour. But a sword was buried deep in her chest, the pain so vivid it felt real. Blood pooled at her feet, staining the ground, and all around her lay the lifeless bodies of those she instinctively knew were her comrades. Their faces were blurred, yet the grief in her heart was sharp and undeniable.
The scene shifted.
Now, she was in a vast desert, the golden sands stretching endlessly under a bright sun. Scattered across the earth were countless swords, their blades glinting as if freshly forged. It was a graveyard of steel, beautiful yet desolate.
I am the bone of my sword.
A voice echoed, deep and resonant, shaking the very air around her.
Iron is my blood, and steel is my body.
Her heart raced. Who was speaking? The voice seemed familiar, yet distant. She turned, searching for the source, her feet moving before her mind could process.
I have created over a thousand blades.
She caught sight of a figure standing atop a weathered stone in the distance. She ran toward them, her breath coming in short gasps, desperate to reach whoever it was.
Unknown to death. Unknown to life.
The words thundered around her, sending shivers down her spine. Just as she stretched out her hand toward the figure, the world seemed to crack and dissolve around her.
The shrill sound of her alarm clock tore her from the dream, leaving her staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving as if she'd truly been running. The vividness of it all lingered, like the ghost of a memory she couldn't quite grasp,
[—(/-\)—]
After school, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Rin Tohsaka and Archer arrived at Shirō's house. Rin had her usual air of confidence, the kind that could intimidate anyone, while Archer followed with his ever-present aura of detached amusement. They were here for one thing: to make plans for the Holy Grail War. Shirō had no choice but to let them in, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Shirō, still adjusting to her new reality, greeted them at the door with an awkward smile. "Welcome," she said, her voice just a little too bright, betraying the nervousness she was trying to hide.
Rin raised an eyebrow as she stepped inside. "Still weird to see you like this, Emiya-kun," she said, deliberately using Shirō's original name. "I mean, this entire situation is just bizarre."
"I'd appreciate it if you called me Saber in public, by the way," Shirō said quickly, closing the door behind them. "It's easier for everyone that way."
Archer smirked, folding his arms. "Pretending to be someone else, huh? That's rich coming from you."
Shirō shot him a look, but said nothing, focusing instead on leading them to the dining room. The table was already set with tea and snacks, an effort to maintain some semblance of normalcy in a situation that was anything but.
They sat down, Rin taking her usual commanding position at the head of the table. "Alright," she said, clasping her hands together. "Let's talk strategy. The Holy Grail War isn't going to wait for us to get comfortable. We need a plan, and we need it now."
Shirō nodded, though she felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't supposed to be here, not as this. How could she make plans for a war she wasn't even supposed to be a part of? "I'll do what I can to help," she said, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil.
Rin gave her a sharp look. "You will help. You don't have a choice. You're a Saber, and that means you're a key player in this war, whether you like it or not."
Shirō hesitated. "But... I'm not the Saber you think I am. I don't even know my Noble Phantasm."
"That's exactly why we're here," Rin said, leaning forward. "We need to figure out what you can do. The other Masters and Servants aren't going to wait for us to get our act together. If we're not prepared, we're as good as dead."
Archer, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "It's true. You're at a disadvantage, but you're not useless. With some training and a solid strategy, you might actually stand a chance."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Shirō muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Don't get snarky with me, Saber," Archer said with a smirk. "I'm here to help, but that doesn't mean I'm going to coddle you. You need to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously," Shirō shot back, her frustration evident. "But it's not like I can just magically become a proper Saber overnight."
Rin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a long war." She straightened up and fixed Shirō with a determined look. "Here's the deal: you focus on unlocking your abilities, and we'll handle the rest. You don't have to fight right away, but you need to be ready when the time comes."
Shirō nodded, though the weight of her situation pressed heavily on her shoulders. "Alright. I'll do my best."
"Good," Rin said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, let's talk about the other Masters and Servants. We need to figure out who our biggest threats are and how to deal with them."
As they discussed their plans, Shirō couldn't help but feel like an imposter. She wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to be fighting in this war. But for now, she would play the part and do what she could to survive.
[—(/-\)—]
The temple air was thick with the scent of incense and cold stone, sending shivers down Shirō's spine. She struggled against the threads binding her, their sharp edges biting into her skin with every movement. The cloaked woman standing before her radiated an unsettling aura, her wild smile making Shirō's stomach churn.
"Who the hell are you?!" Shirō yelled, her voice echoing in the eerie silence of the temple.
The woman tilted her head, her smile growing wider. "I am Caster, a benevolent Servant," she purred, her tone dripping with mockery.
Caster?! Shirō's mind raced. She remembered Rin's warnings about Caster—manipulative, cunning, and absolutely dangerous.
Caster's grin didn't falter as she began pacing leisurely, her long cloak trailing behind her. "You see, Saber, the Holy Grail will be mine. It's inevitable. And you… you will help me achieve it. Wouldn't that be a beautiful alliance?"
Shirō's face twisted in anger. "As if I'd ever work with a witch like you!" she spat, tugging futilely at the threads. They only dug deeper, a painful reminder of how utterly trapped she was.
Caster froze mid-step, her grin faltering as a dangerous glint entered her eyes. "Witch?" she repeated, her voice low and venomous. "Did you just call me a witch?"
Her hand moved to her side, and Shirō's blood ran cold as she saw the gleam of a dagger. The blade was ornate, its edge shimmering unnaturally as if it were alive with magic.
"Such insolence," Caster hissed, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Shirō. "No matter. I'll make you my servant right now. Perhaps then you'll learn some respect."
Panic surged through Shirō as she thrashed against her bindings. But the threads only tightened, their razor edges threatening to cut into her skin if she struggled too hard. She clenched her teeth, frustration and fear boiling over. Useless… I'm so useless…
Caster raised the dagger, her wild grin returning. "Now, Saber, let us begin—"
A sharp whistle cut through the air, and in an instant, Caster leaped back, a glowing arrow embedding itself in the ground where she had stood. The dagger clattered to the floor as Caster let out a frustrated yell. "Archer?!"
Shirō's eyes widened as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, his twin blades glinting ominously under the moonlight. "Took you long enough to figure it out," Archer said coolly, his sharp eyes locked on Caster.
"A-Archer?!" Shirō stammered, relief and disbelief washing over her.
Archer didn't reply. He moved with swift precision, cutting through the threads binding Shirō with a single slash of his blade. She collapsed to the ground, gasping as she rubbed her wrists.
"Come on now," Archer said, glancing down at her. "Make yourself useful, Saber."
Before Shirō could muster a reply, Caster let out a shrill laugh. "Archer, you dare interfere with me?" she sneered, summoning an array of glowing orbs that hovered menacingly around her. "You'll regret this."
Archer smirked, twirling his blades effortlessly. "Big talk for someone who just got interrupted mid-monologue. You witches really do love hearing yourselves speak."
Caster's face twisted with rage as she launched the magical orbs toward them. Archer was already in motion, his blades flashing as he deflected the attacks with practiced ease. "Get up, Saber," he said sharply over his shoulder. "You're not going to just sit there, are you?"
Shirō scrambled to her feet, clutching the wooden sword that Archer had handed back to her. She felt the weight of her own inadequacy crushing her, but she couldn't let that stop her now. I have to fight. I have to do something.
Archer engaged Caster in a flurry of strikes, their clash sending shockwaves through the temple. Despite his taunts, it was clear he wasn't taking her lightly. Every swing of her staff, every spell she cast, was met with calculated precision. But Archer couldn't keep this up forever—Caster's magical power was overwhelming, her attacks relentless.
"Anytime now, Saber!" Archer called out, blocking a burst of energy that sent him skidding back.
Shirō tightened her grip on her wooden sword, her heart pounding. "Right… I'm coming!" she shouted, charging forward despite the fear gnawing at her.
This time, I'll fight. Even if I don't know how.
Archer moved like a phantom, his body weaving effortlessly between Caster's relentless barrage of magical orbs and beams. The air around him crackled with energy, but none of it managed to touch him. He smirked with every near-miss, his twin blades at the ready.
"That's it? I've seen apprentices with better aim," he mocked, dodging yet another explosion of magic that left scorch marks on the temple floor.
Caster's face contorted with anger. "You insolent little—!" she snarled, launching another volley of attacks, her immense mana reserves making it seem as though her power was limitless.
Shirō, on the other hand, had no such grace. Her dodging was clumsy at best, instinctive at worst. She managed to avoid being hit, but her movements were uncoordinated, and her breathing was already ragged. I'm good at dodging… that's all I can do, she thought bitterly, frustration gnawing at her.
But Archer's constant taunts didn't escape her notice. He wasn't just being smug—he was trying to unnerve Caster, to throw her off her game. He's getting on her nerves on purpose…
Caster's patience snapped as her gaze shifted to Shirō, the clear weak link in the battle. "You think you're clever, don't you, Archer?" she hissed. "Let's see how clever you are when this happens!"
She raised her hand, and a massive surge of energy formed above her, condensing into a spear of pure destruction. With a wild grin, she hurled it toward Shirō.
Shirō's eyes widened in terror. There was no way she could dodge that.
"Move, you idiot!" Archer's voice barked, and before she could react, she felt herself being yanked backward by the collar of her uniform. The world blurred as Archer leaped into the air, dragging her with him.
"P-put me down!" she yelled, flailing in his grip.
"Okay," Archer said nonchalantly, and without hesitation, he tossed her aside.
Shirō landed with a thud, her pride taking a bigger hit than her body. "You jerk!" she shouted, glaring at him.
But the smug retort she expected never came. Instead, she saw Caster smirking triumphantly as crystalline structures erupted from the ground around Archer, trapping him in a glowing, transparent prison. He stood frozen, his blades inches away from breaking free, but the magical barrier held firm.
"Archer!" Shirō screamed, scrambling to her feet.
Caster's laughter echoed through the temple. "How foolish you are," she sneered, walking toward her captive. "To challenge me? To call me a witch?"
She grinned wickedly, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You'll regret those words, Archer."
The crystal prison shattered with a deafening crack, shards scattering like broken glass. Archer stood amidst the debris, his twin blades glowing faintly in the moonlight. Without hesitation, he raised his bow and conjured a crimson arrow brimming with power, the air vibrating with its lethal energy.
The arrow flew true, striking Caster before she could react. She stumbled, her eyes wide with disbelief as she crumpled to the ground, clutching her side. Blood seeped through her robes, staining the stone beneath her.
"You underestimated me," Archer said coldly, stepping closer. His voice was devoid of mercy, his eyes sharp and calculating. "You thought you had me cornered, but you forgot one thing—I've fought worse than you."
He paused, glancing at Shirō, who was still catching her breath, clutching her sore limbs. His gaze hardened as he studied her. 'If she's truly the same naive fool I used to be, then there's no hope for her. But... if she's changed, even a little, then maybe...'
Archer's voice cut through the tense silence. "What do you think, Saber? Should I kill her?"
Shirō froze, her mind racing. She glanced at the wounded Caster, then back at Archer. "Um, uh... Is there any chance we can make her obey us?"
Archer scoffed. "She's a Caster. Without a Master, she's useless to us. And even if we wanted to, controlling her is out of the question."
Shirō hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Well... she did kill people. Innocents. And heroic spirits are already dead anyway, right? So... I think 'ending' her is the right choice."
Archer raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. 'So, merging with Saber really has changed her,' he thought. 'Maybe she's not as hopeless as I feared.'
He stepped forward, twin blades poised to strike. But just as he was about to deliver the final blow, a blur of motion interrupted him. A figure appeared, striking Archer with enough force to send him skidding across the ground.
Archer caught himself, digging his blades into the earth to halt his momentum. His eyes narrowed as he looked up, but the assailant was already retreating, Caster held securely in their arms. Before he could react further, the figure and Caster vanished into the shadows, leaving nothing but silence in their wake.
"Tch." Archer clicked his tongue in frustration, lowering his weapons.
Shirō stumbled to her feet, her hand instinctively going to her neck where a thin cut marred her skin. Blood trickled down her fingers as she pressed against the wound, her breathing uneven. "I need to rest... to heal this..." she mumbled weakly.
Before her legs could give out, Archer was there, catching her effortlessly. His expression was unreadable as he looked down at her pale face. "You're a real mess, you know that?" he muttered, though his tone was softer than before.
TBC