Shinji's legs steadily came to a halt. His hands shook. His lips chattered. There was only one word for the idea that was on his mind. Pure, utter idiocy.
Dreams are made of courage, boy. If no one was brave, then hardly anything would ever be done.
It had been a back handed complement of the long past made of pure spite. However, those words had stuck with Shinji, for they were the only kind thing that he had ever truly earned from that old man. A long moment passed of deep, long breaths. Lungs filling up, expanding to the maximum, and then contracting.
Shinji could call it soothing, but he would be lying.
"Shirou, I'm going to punch you if we ever meet again."
There was no way to describe the situation in which this was not a terrible idea. There wasn't unlimited time, after all. The power was going down, and with it, the lights.
Even so, something distinctly Shirou-like said that Shinji should go back. It was stupid, dumb and the actions of a hero of justice. He rather distinctly was not a hero of justice.
Shirou was rubbing off on him in the worst possible way.
His heel turned and he ran. It was easy to work out where the fighting was coming from; after all, the sounds were quite loud, more like thunderclaps then anything else. The beast's flesh was a dark grey. While it was easy to see now, it would also be easy to see how it would vanish from view as time went on.
Three figures were fighting it. The most obvious was the gem knight monstrosity, spear flashing in an amethyst flurry as it manoeuvred its body around the beast. In the background was a young man, his features somewhat sharp and his hair a sort of light ash. Flickering around his body were white wires, each flick forcing the Soul Eater to move or be caught in a web.
Those two were working like a machine. Not a particularly well oiled machine, but they worked together quite well. That was a simple fact. Compared to them, Sheba was simply a rampant, rampaging force of nature. Every so often she'd hurl a spell into the fray, but it was not the concerted, joint effort that the other two men made.
In all truth, they might have had the fight in hand, but it wasn't just a matter of if the fight was going well. It had to go fast, as well.
"Seven heavens clad in three words of… crap!" Shinji let out a curse, as it very quickly became obvious that he didn't actually remember the words to the summoning ritual for a Servant. He could remember his grandfather explaining it, in that dull drone of his, once upon a time, but that felt like an age ago. The information certainly had not been retained.
"You idiot! Run!"
Sheba's words didn't phase him. The Soul Eater spun between him and her. It couldn't see, he could recall her mentioning that briefly. That was something that would play in his favour, right. An amethyst spear flashed, and the Soul Eater leapt aside.
No, it knew where he was. Perhaps it could smell him. It didn't matter either way. Shinji would cast magic in the only way he knew how.
"Damn it, just work already!"
In hindsight, yelling for magic to work was not a bright idea. The Soul Eater pounced.
Yet that did not matter either.
Maybe you'll prove worthy of something, or maybe we'll see just how useless you are. Hehehe, I'd pay money to see just how this ends up turning out. What a pity…
The truth of the matter, was that the spiritual organs were not meant to grow or shrink. They remained as they were the day their owner was born, except when change was visited on them. Normally, the only changes they saw, was that of a trigger, enabling the usage of magic.
In the case of Shinji Matou, his body had been infected by the craft of the family. Crest worms, however, found nothing of sustenance within him and thus, the implantation was a failure. The simple fact of the matter had been that he was a failure in every way, as a person who might inherit the will of Zouken Matou.
It was not a new concept. After all, his father and his father's father had also proven useless in this regard.
However, for whatever reason, Zouken had seen something in him. Perhaps it was just some twisted sense of amusement, or an experiment of sorts, or maybe even just a cruel joke, a false hope followed by a sudden and short drop. Whatever it was, however, it answered the command of Shinji Matou.
And then Shinji doubled over, and vomited blood. Whatever the feeling in his chest was did not matter, as something huge and heavy barrelled into him, and he smashed into the ground like a sack of potatoes.
'I'm going to die.'
That was the thought that crossed Shinji Matou's mind. Indeed, he had trusted the words of his grandfather and been betrayed. What was there to live for?
He reached up, or maybe he was just imagining it, to that hand descending from light from the other side. At least it would be painless there.
Forge. On.
'I am alive.'
The act of kicking the thing off him was an instinct. Shinji wasn't even sure what, exactly, was happening. His body burned. Everything burned. It was perhaps the greatest regret he had, of an action he wasn't even sure he committed. He had done something, and everything burned. Of course, the truth was simple, the body was rapidly being burned away as the soul clung towards existence.
His clothes had changed, something in his head noted, but the thought was discarded a moment later as something useless.
Breathe. In. Out. Draw.
A bow. Yes, that was the weapon in Shinji's right hand. An arrow, a longish, spiky-looking thing barbed in red, formed in his left hand, as a movement that he had practised enough times to do without sight executed flawlessly. No matter the situation, there was one thing about Shinji Matou that could not be denied.
He was an excellent archer.
Breathe in. Draw. Breath out. Release. A single practised motion, unleashing an arrow on the Soul Eater. The barbed red spear pierced through flesh and tore away it's right forepaw. Gore rained upon the battlefield. A devastating result that had surely crippled it.
And then, as soon as it had all came, it had left. Bow vanished into light. Body collapsing in a mass of heat and limbs. Blood dribbling from lips. Seven seconds was all it had lasted. The artificial magic circuit, created by the worms in his body, could only sustain such a high power for seven seconds. A high power so great, his mind could not even comprehend what, exactly had happened, only that whatever had answered his demand, childish as it had been, had been something familiar.
'At least the old man would be pleased.'
It was a treacherous thought, but not one without merit. After all, it meant whatever the old fool was so proud of had some measure of success. However, even without a limb and roaring in agony, the fact was that the Soul Eater was rapidly moving on him. He would probably die from this one, if he hadn't already been killed.
"Einzbern!"
Shinji didn't know who had called out. It wasn't for his name. The fact someone had yelled had barely even registered in his mind.
It was as if reality had blinked, and he was in someone's arms like a newly wed-bride. The Einzbern man with ash hair, his mind slowly linked the dots. It was as if he had moved at a speed faster then time, his lungs panting for the necessary air as he skidded along the floor to safety.
"Caster!"
"On it! Ars Solus Lux!" The words weren't any that Shinji understood, yet he had to wonder if Caster was bringing her Noble Phantasm to bear. "In His name, I command."
The spear burned in the distance, something radiant.
"Aim for the injury."
"I know."
The Soul Eater roared. Shinji could not see the exchange of blows. All he knew, is that the body of the Soul Eater began to fall apart a moment later, burning from rays of light igniting from within it. A second blow made sure it was dead, but there was almost certainly no need for it.
All Shinji really knew was it was far too hot. The fact his body had been exhausted only moments ago seemed almost a dream, as he began to squirm.
"You can't be healed already?" The Einzbern sounded surprised, yet Shinji just squirmed and squirmed.
"Lemme go."
The Einzbern seemed to decide obliging was the better part of valour, shrugging his shoulders as Shinji straightened himself. He had a clear view of the carnage now. The monster was dead, it's ashes scattering over the hall.
"The hell possessed you to do that!?"
Shinji wasn't sure which stung more. Sheba's words, or the smack to the head that came with them. Her mood swung incredibly quickly, as if the fact they had just won was irrelevant.
"Yeoow! Oi, I'm hurt here!"
"You're fine, for now." She looked at him with a very critical eye. "Fine enough, anyway. Answer the question!"
"If I may, this might not be the best place." The gem knight seemed to override whatever rage Sheba was feeling, his voice rather calm as the helm of his armour faded away. He seemed middle aged, yet he was not particularly breathing hard, either. If Shinji was honest, he felt like he would have eventually won anyway.
"I… fine. If this idiot wants to burn himself out, be my guest." Sheba just huffed, glancing at the Einzbern. "You okay?"
"Fine, Caster." The Einzbern nodded. "My lungs will repair themselves."
"That's good. Just remember, Matou, when you're an idiot, other people get hurt pulling your ass to safety." She grumbled, shaking her head. "Light's getting low. Move, gentlemen, it's time to face the music."
The music, as she put it, was an underground dock less then five minutes away. A young man stood at the boarding plank to what looked like a truly ancient vessel of golden wood, his hand tucked away behind his back and his sandy red hair framed immaculately.
"My, with nary a minute to spare." The man's voice was nothing but condescension, if it could even be called a greeting. "Truly, Caster, is this the rabble you deemed worth saving? They look to have nearly been annihilated by a mere trifle." Shinji felt his hands shake, just a little.
"It was my choice, Archibald. Not yours." Sheba retorted. "I see you decided just to wait, rather then help."
"Of course. I passed the test with flying colours." The man declared without pause, as if it were a simple matter like taking a piss. "I'm more interested in your prime picks. Let's see… a rat without any talent, an excellent start. Lord Istari I suppose I can understand, and the doll… might be useful." His emphasis said a lot of what he thought the might actually meant. Sarcasm dripped from nearly every word.
Shinji, however…
[ ] Had seen enough. "Who the fuck are you?"
[ ] Turned to Sheba. "Who is he?"
[ ] Simply remained silent.
