The morning sunlight filtered through the paper windows, casting soft, golden patterns on the walls. Shirō blinked groggily as she stirred in her futon, her body aching faintly in protest. She ran a hand over her neck, feeling the faint sting of the cut. The events of the previous night rushed back to her in a chaotic blur: the temple, Caster, the ambush, and—Archer.
She sat up slowly, glancing around her familiar room. Her futon was neatly laid out, and there was no sign of anyone else. "Did Archer bring me back here?" she murmured to herself, rubbing her temples. That had to be it. She certainly hadn't walked back on her own, not in the state she'd been in.
Her mind wandered further, piecing things together. That arrow—that crimson arrow that saved her from Berserker during their first encounter—it must've been Archer's doing too. She owed him twice now. The realization made her frown, partly in gratitude and partly in irritation. The guy wasn't exactly humble about his skills, and she'd bet he'd milk her debt for all it was worth.
"Not to mention he's already beating my ass in the dojo," she muttered, pulling herself to her feet with a resigned sigh. Archer's "tutoring" was less instruction and more of a brutal wake-up call about how utterly outmatched she was. Still, she couldn't deny that he was helping her improve—at least a little.
Stretching her arms overhead, Shirō winced at the stiffness in her shoulders. "Ugh, I need a hot bath," she grumbled, trudging to the bathroom. Freshening up helped clear her head, the cool water washing away the remnants of fatigue and the faint, lingering smell of sweat and dust from last night.
By the time she finished, the sun was higher in the sky, and her stomach growled in protest. She headed to the kitchen, throwing together a quick breakfast—rice, miso soup, and some pickled vegetables. It was simple but comforting, the kind of meal that felt like home. She ate quickly, her mind already on the day ahead.
Once her plate was clean and her hunger sated, Shirō stood and stretched again, feeling more awake and ready to tackle the day. "Alright," she said to herself, determination flickering in her eyes. "Time to train."
She grabbed her wooden practice sword and made her way to the dojo. The polished wooden floors gleamed faintly in the morning light, and the air inside was cool and still. Standing in the centre of the room, she took a deep breath, centring herself.
"Alright, Shirō," she muttered under her breath, gripping the sword tightly. "No more excuses. If you're going to survive this war, you need to get stronger. No one's going to save you forever—not Archer, not Rin, no one."
With that, she began her drills, each swing of the sword sharper and more focused than the last.
Shirō gripped the wooden katana tightly, her brow furrowed as she tried to focus. "Trace, on," she whispered, her voice steady but her hands trembling ever so slightly. She felt the faint hum of her mana circuits activating, enveloping the katana with a faint blue glow. For a moment, she thought it worked. She swung the wooden sword experimentally, hoping for a miracle.
But there was no difference. The swing was just as weak and clumsy as before.
Frustrated, Shirō let out a heavy sigh and sank to the floor of the dojo, crossing her legs. The katana rested beside her, still glowing faintly before the light fizzled out completely. She stared at it, lost in thought.
She was so weak. Everyone she had met so far—Rin, Archer, Caster, even that terrifying girl Illyasviel with her monstrous Berserker—was leagues ahead of her. She couldn't even call herself a participant in the Holy Grail War at this point. She was just surviving, barely scraping by on luck and the generosity of others.
Her powers—if she could even call them that—were laughable. Sure, she could "fortify" objects, but what good was that when her swings lacked strength, and she had no proper weapon to begin with? The only thing she'd managed to do consistently was… change her clothes. A useless skill in the middle of a life-and-death battle.
She clenched her fists, biting her lip in frustration. "This isn't enough," she muttered to herself. "If I want to stand a chance, I need something more. Something real. Something…"
Her thoughts trailed off, an idea slowly forming in her mind. It was a crazy idea, but it might just work. She needed something to trigger her potential, to unlock whatever was hidden deep inside her. And the only thing that had ever worked so far was when her life was in danger.
That's it. She needed to put herself in danger.
Shirō stood up abruptly, gripping the wooden katana with renewed determination. "This is insane," she said under her breath, her heart racing at the thought. But deep down, she knew it was the only way. If she kept hiding and relying on others, she'd never grow stronger.
Her mind raced, trying to think of a place where she could push herself to the limit, where danger was guaranteed. And then it hit her: the railway station. It was a hub of activity, and if there was one place where she could encounter something—or someone—it was there.
"Let's do this," she said, steeling herself. Without hesitation, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door, leaving the safety of her home behind. The cool morning air hit her face as she walked briskly toward the station, her heart pounding in anticipation.
It was a crazy plan, sure. But crazy was all she had left.
[—(/-\)—]
Archer leaned against one of the station pillars, arms crossed, his usual irritated expression plastered across his face. He had no idea why Rin insisted on meeting here of all places. She could've just summoned him straight to her house if she needed something, but no—she had to do things the "proper" way. Whatever that meant.
He sighed, glancing lazily at the clock above. It wasn't like he hated waiting, but he had better things to do. Well, maybe not better, but at least more interesting than loitering in a train station.
Then, a faint noise caught his attention.
It was the kind of sound that didn't belong in the station—the subtle murmurs of concern from bystanders, gasps, and then the unmistakable screech of a train braking in the distance.
His sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on the cause. A hooded figure was standing on the tracks, completely still, as if waiting for something—or someone.
Archer frowned. What are they doing? Are they trying to get themselves killed?
The bystanders didn't seem to be moving to help, instead whispering amongst themselves, their fear and confusion palpable. Archer, for his part, was about to dismiss it entirely—suicide was none of his business.
But then, as the train drew closer, he felt it.
That aura.
It wasn't just any person standing on the tracks. That was Saber.
"What the—?" he muttered, his eyes widening in shock. The hell is she doing out there? And why does it feel like she's trying to die?!
His body moved before his mind could catch up. He bolted forward, his inhuman speed making him a blur to the stunned onlookers. The train's horn blared, louder and closer now, the wheels screeching against the tracks as it tried to stop. But it was moving too fast—it wouldn't stop in time.
Neither would he.
Shirō stood on the tracks, her hood shielding her face from the world as she closed her eyes. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears louder than the train's horn. This was it. She just had to will it. She just had to manifest her powers.
"Come on," she whispered, gripping her fists tightly. "Trace… On!"
Nothing happened.
The train was so close now, she could feel the vibrations through her feet. She clenched her teeth, panic surging through her as she forced herself to stay still. It has to work. It has to!
And then, she felt it. Lightness. Weightlessness.
It worked?!
Her eyes snapped open in triumph—only to find herself not on the tracks, but being carried bridal-style by a very angry Archer.
The train roared past them, the wind whipping violently around as Archer landed back on the platform. Shirō stared up at him, blinking in shock.
"Uh, good afternoon?" she managed, her voice weak.
Archer glared at her, his crimson eyes burning with fury. "Good afternoon?" he repeated, his voice a deadly hiss. "That's what you have to say after I just dragged your suicidal ass off the tracks?!"
Shirō winced, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I wasn't trying to—"
"Don't even try to explain," he snapped, his grip tightening slightly as if to emphasize his point. "You're not dumb enough to think standing in front of a speeding train is a good idea, so what the hell were you doing?"
She averted her gaze, mumbling something under her breath.
"Speak up," Archer growled.
"I was… trying to unlock my powers," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Archer froze, his expression shifting from rage to incredulity. "You what?"
"I thought… maybe if I put myself in danger, I'd be able to activate my abilities," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I mean, it worked when Berserker attacked me, and it kinda worked just now—"
"'Kinda worked'?!" Archer cut her off, his voice dripping with disbelief. "You thought nearly getting yourself killed was a good training method?!"
"Well, when you put it like that…" she muttered, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.
Archer stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched as if he was physically restraining himself from yelling any further. Finally, he let out a long, exasperated sigh and set her down unceremoniously on the platform.
"You're an idiot," he said bluntly.
Shirō crossed her arms, pouting. "It was worth a shot."
"No, it wasn't," Archer shot back. "You're lucky I was here. Do you even realise how close you were to getting yourself killed?"
She didn't respond, her gaze dropping to the ground.
Archer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about reckless kids under his breath. "Listen to me, Saber," he said finally, his tone firm but not as harsh. "If you want to get stronger, there are better ways to do it. You don't need to risk your life like this."
Shirō looked up at him, her eyes filled with doubt. "But what if I can't do it? What if I'm just… not strong enough?"
Archer's expression softened for a brief moment before his usual smirk returned. "Then it's my job to make sure you are. Don't get any stupid ideas like this again. Got it?"
Shirō hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Got it."
"Good." Archer turned away, his coat billowing dramatically behind him. "Now let's get out of here before Rin shows up and starts yelling at both of us."
Shirō followed him, her heart heavy but her resolve stronger. She still had a long way to go, but maybe—she wasn't as alone as she thought.
Rin Tohsaka strode onto the station platform, her sharp eyes scanning for any sign of her wayward Servant. She spotted Archer leaning casually against a pillar, his arms crossed as if nothing significant had just occurred. Typical. He could never be bothered to look the least bit urgent, even when it mattered.
"Finally," she said, walking up to him with a huff. "What took you so long? And what's with the commotion? Did something happen?"
Archer tilted his head slightly, his usual smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Oh, nothing much. Just had to save some idiot trying to die on the tracks. You know, the usual."
"What?!" Rin's eyes widened, her voice rising in disbelief. "Somebody tried to throw themselves in front of a train? Are they insane?"
Archer shrugged nonchalantly. "Pretty much."
Rin crossed her arms, her tone turning accusatory. "And you're just standing here like it's no big deal? Where's this 'idiot' now? Did they run off?"
Before Archer could answer, Rin's gaze shifted behind him—and froze.
Her expression turned from exasperation to outright shock as she recognised the figure standing awkwardly behind Archer, her hood partially hiding her face.
"E-Emiya-kun?!" Rin's voice cracked slightly, the sheer disbelief making her usually composed tone falter.
Shirō winced at the sharpness in her voice, scratching the back of her neck nervously. "Uh… hey, Tohsaka."
Rin blinked, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what she was seeing. "What the hell were you doing on the tracks?!" she finally demanded, her voice a mix of anger and genuine concern.
"I was, uh…" Shirō glanced at Archer for help, but he simply raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "I was… trying to unlock my powers."
"By getting hit by a train?!" Rin's voice climbed an octave, and she looked ready to strangle Shirō on the spot.
"It wasn't like that!" Shirō protested, holding up her hands defensively. "I thought if I put myself in danger, my powers might activate! It worked before, kinda…"
"Kinda?!" Rin repeated, her face turning red as she advanced toward Shirō. "Are you out of your mind? Do you even hear yourself right now?!"
Archer snorted, clearly amused by the exchange. "Told you she was an idiot," he said, earning a glare from both girls.
Rin rounded on him next. "And you! Why didn't you stop her sooner? You're supposed to be watching her!"
"I did stop her," Archer replied smoothly. "That's why she's standing here and not a smear on the tracks."
"That's not the point!" Rin snapped, her frustration evident. "You're supposed to prevent things like this from happening in the first place!"
Archer shrugged, his smirk widening. "She didn't exactly announce her suicidal plan beforehand. Besides, I figured it'd be a good learning experience for her."
"A learning experience?" Rin looked like she was about to explode.
"Can we not make this a big deal?" Shirō interjected, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm fine, and I won't do it again. Lesson learned."
Rin turned back to Shirō, her expression softening slightly, though the anger in her eyes didn't fully fade. "You'd better not. Do you have any idea how reckless that was? If Archer hadn't been here—"
"I know, I know," Shirō interrupted, her voice quieter now. "I get it, Tohsaka. I messed up."
Rin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're hopeless, Emiya-kun. Absolutely hopeless."
Archer crossed his arms, watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Well, if nothing else, at least we know she's determined. Stupidly so, but determined."
Rin shot him another glare before turning back to Shirō. "From now on, you don't do anything without consulting me first. Got it?"
Shirō nodded quickly. "Got it."
"Good." Rin sighed again, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Now let's get out of here before you come up with another genius plan to get yourself killed."
As the three of them left the platform, Archer couldn't resist one last comment.
"You know," he said, glancing at Shirō, "if you wanted me to train you, you could've just asked. No need for all the theatrics."
Shirō groaned, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Rin, meanwhile, looked like she was seriously considering smacking both of them.
[—(/-\)—]
The training was brutal, far beyond anything Shirō had anticipated. Six hours a day of relentless sparring under Archer's tutelage was turning her muscles into jelly. And as if the physical toll wasn't enough, Archer made it his mission to point out every single flaw in her technique with merciless precision. No reprieve, no mercy—just a ceaseless barrage of attacks that left her gasping for air and questioning her life choices.
The dojo echoed with the sharp crack of wood meeting steel as Shirō, drenched in sweat, staggered back from Archer's latest assault. He moved with a fluidity and grace that made her feel like a fumbling amateur—because she was. Her wooden katana felt more like a toy in her hands compared to the deadly twin blades Archer wielded.
"Break," she panted, leaning against the wall and clutching her knees. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her arms felt like lead.
Across the room, Rin sat cross-legged, watching with a mix of exasperation and disappointment. "This is pathetic," she muttered, loud enough for Shirō to hear. "We have a Saber on our side, and she can't even hold her own in a sparring match."
Shirō shot her a glare, but she was too exhausted to retort. Archer, on the other hand, simply smirked, his twin blades resting casually at his sides. "She's got potential," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "It's just buried under a mountain of incompetence."
"I hate you," Shirō grumbled, straightening up and wiping the sweat from her brow.
"Good," Archer replied, motioning for her to get back into position. "That's the spirit. Now, let's see if you've learned anything."
The break was over before she could fully recover. Archer moved like a predator, his strikes precise and unrelenting. Shirō barely managed to block his attacks, the wooden katana trembling in her hands with each clash.
"Too slow," Archer chided, sweeping her legs out from under her.
Shirō hit the floor with a thud, her katana slipping from her grip. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled to her feet, only to be met with another flurry of blows.
"Defend properly, or don't bother at all," Archer said, his voice cold.
"I'm trying!" Shirō snapped, her frustration boiling over.
But it wasn't enough. Archer's relentless assault continued, and with a particularly vicious strike, her wooden katana went flying across the room, clattering to a stop near Rin's feet.
"Shirō!" Rin shouted, half-standing in alarm.
But Archer didn't stop. His expression was calm, his movements calculated as he closed the distance between them. One of his twin blades glinted ominously in the light as it arced toward Shirō.
Time seemed to slow. Shirō's heart pounded in her chest as she raised her hands instinctively, bending her knees as if bracing for the impact. She didn't have a weapon, and there was no way she could block his strike barehanded.
And then, it happened.
A blinding light erupted around her, illuminating the dojo with an almost divine brilliance. The air crackled with energy, and the metallic clang of blades meeting echoed sharply through the space.
When the light faded, Archer stood before her, his twin blades locked against a glowing sword held firmly in Shirō's hands. His smirk widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Shirō, crouched beneath him, stared in shock. Her jeans and t-shirt were gone, replaced by a blue dress and armour adorned with gauntlets. She hadn't willed it to happen—it was as if her body had acted on its own.
Rin, still by the wall, shot to her feet, her jaw hanging open. "The hell…?"
Shirō's breath hitched as she looked down at herself, then at the glowing sword in her hands. It wasn't just a weapon—it was intricate and otherworldly, like something out of a museum, but alive with power.
"What… just happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"You unlocked your weapon," Archer replied, his tone almost smug. "You're welcome."
The sword felt light as a feather in Shirō's grip, yet its presence radiated an undeniable grandeur. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a statement, something that demanded reverence and awe. Rin and Archer, standing nearby, watched with a mix of curiosity and caution. Neither of them made a move to touch it, and Shirō had a feeling they couldn't, even if they tried.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but admit—reluctantly, of course—that she looked like the very image of a knight. Her armour gleamed in the light, her blue dress flowing with a regal elegance she never thought she could pull off. It was a far cry from the jeans and t-shirt she usually wore. She struck a pose, turning her head slightly and holding the sword aloft.
"Not bad, right?" she said, smirking.
Rin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "You're insufferable."
Archer let out a low chuckle, his arms folded. "A knight playing dress-up. How fitting."
Ignoring their sarcasm, Shirō flexed the sword experimentally, letting its weight shift in her hand. The blade moved as if it were an extension of her own arm. She gave it a swing, aiming at a training puppet in the corner of the dojo.
The air itself seemed to split with a sharp whistle, and before she even realised it, the puppet was cleaved in half. The blade hadn't even touched it.
Rin's jaw dropped. "What the—?!"
"That's not just sharpness," Archer said, his tone unusually serious. "That's beyond anything we've seen before."
Shirō stared at the puppet, then back at the sword. "This thing is insane," she muttered. She turned to Rin and Archer, pointing the sword at them—lightly, of course. "What's this called, anyway? You two seem to know more about all this Holy Grail War stuff than I do."
Rin glanced at Archer, raising an eyebrow. "You seem to recognise it. Care to enlighten us?"
Archer hesitated, his usual confidence giving way to a moment of unease. "Promise you won't freak out."
Shirō frowned. "Why would I freak out? Just tell me."
"It's called... Excalibur."
The room went silent.
"Wait, what?!" Shirō's voice cracked.
"Excalibur," Archer repeated, his tone firm. "The sword of King Arthur."
Rin blinked, her eyes darting between the sword and Shirō. "King Arthur's sword?! Are you telling me that the body Shirō's inhabiting is—"
"King Arthur's?" Shirō finished, her voice rising in pitch. "That can't be right! King Arthur was a man! How the hell does that make sense?"
Archer shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I don't know the details, but the sword doesn't lie. That's Excalibur, and by extension... you're tied to King Arthur's legacy."
Shirō looked down at the sword, her grip tightening. "This is insane," she muttered. "I didn't sign up for this!"
Rin, still processing, muttered, "King Arthur... as a girl? That's... unexpected."
Archer, crossing his arms, smirked. "It's a good look for you, Saber."
Shirō groaned, running a hand through her hair. "This is too much. First, I have to fight in this ridiculous war, and now I'm supposed to be the reincarnation of some legendary king?!"
Rin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're not exactly inspiring confidence here, Shirō."
"Well, excuse me for having an identity crisis!" Shirō snapped. She swung the sword again, watching the air ripple in its wake. "But... I guess if this thing's as powerful as it seems, maybe it'll help me survive this stupid war."
Archer's smirk softened into something resembling approval. "If you can wield it properly, it'll do more than that. But don't get cocky. A legendary weapon is only as good as the one using it."
Shirō glared at him, her competitive spirit flaring. "You just wait. I'll master this thing, and then you'll be the one struggling to keep up."
Rin sighed again, muttering under her breath. "We're doomed."