Chapter 12 - Cor Destructum
For a War between seven heroes of legend, so far Lancer had found it
really boring. During the day he'd been told to stay inside the Matou house – and if there was a worse place to be indoors all day, Lancer didn't want to know about it. Dingy, dull, oppressive… even opening a window just blew dust and worse all around the house, and made his new Master sneeze.
The best – the
very best – you could say about the house was that, at least, it wasn't the basement.
Lancer had poked his head down there, out of a lack of literally anything else to do. Zouken had been standing there, in the dark, all by himself. Things skittered and wriggled away from the light and gathered in the shadows. Lancer had expected Zouken to greet him, or at least acknowledge his existence – but instead the old man remained motionless, staring at nothing. The Servant quietly left and shut the door very firmly behind him.
All in all, Lancer was very glad to hear footsteps in the driveway – Sakura's, by the sound and the feel of them. It was early evening, the sun just starting to go down. He'd have worried about her, but she'd mentioned she'd be at a nearby friend's house after school, so it was fine. As long as she was home before nightfall there shouldn't be a problem. Lancer greeted her at the door.
"Hi there! How was school?"
Sakura looked at him blankly. "Fine." She continued into the house without saying anything more.
It looked like Lancer was going to have a work a little harder to break through his summoner's shell. That was fine though! He'd made friends with all sorts of people he'd never have expected in life, and Sakura wasn't even trying to kill or capture him, so it should be easy-peasy. He followed her inside.
"Glad to hear you enjoyed it." He cast around for something else to say, and noticed the kit bag she was carrying. Which club was she in again? Ah, that was it. "Um, you do archery, right? How was that? Can you show me some? I'm kinda curious as to what it's like in your era."
No response. Sakura just trudged along the hallway, eyes down, towards her room. Sheesh. Tough crowd.
"Okay, you're tired, I get it. At least let me take your bag-" He reached out, but broke off when Sakura winced and flinched away, cradling her wrist. "Hey, you okay, Sakura? Show me your wrist."
"It's fine."
"No it isn't, young lady," Lancer said in what he thought of as his 'dad voice'. "Anything causing that kind of reaction can't be 'fine'. Now let me see."
Grudgingly, Sakura pushed her wrist up. There was an angry red weal on it – from a bowstring, no doubt. Why hadn't she said anything?
"I said it's fine," she said dully, but didn't pull away. "Just a scratch. It happens all the time and I've had worse."
"Well, that's no excuse," scolded Lancer. A swirl of water dragged itself from his canteen and floated around his hand. "Let me heal it for you."
Sakura accepted Lancer's hand on her wrist without comment, watching as the mark faded under the glowing water. When it was gone, she turned to leave.
"Ah-ah, missy. If you're going to hide stuff like this from people I think it's best if I give you a quick check-up." Lancer spread his fingers, and the water flowed from each one to a different chakra point. "Let's see what else is… wrong…"
Wrong.
Wrong.
Sakura's chi was like nothing Lancer had ever seen. Most people's chi had a few blockages here and there, it was to be expected. Emotional issues, hangups, the little everyday problems that came with living life. Occasionally you saw someone with a major blockage –you could usually guess which ones
those were without having to examine their chi, just by the way they acted. Then there were those that had had their chi blocked by something like the New Kyoshi Warrior Style.
This, though? It was nothing
but blockage. It didn't flow – it
oozed like lumpy porridge around Sakura's body. And it wasn't hers. There was a trickle of her own chi there, a thin stream in a filthy ditch – and even
that was as stagnant as he'd ever seen in a living person – but most of it was foreign. Great spirits, she had things
living inside her.
The worst of it was inside her heart. Something in there had its own chi, infecting Sakura's like a disease. Everything else was mindless, animal, but this felt malevolent. When it squirmed, everything else inside the girl moved in tandem with its twitches and shifts. Now that he was looking, he could see Sakura shift uncomfortably in time with it as well.
What had been
done to this girl?
"Sakura… you…"
Seeing the concern in his eyes, Sakura pulled away. "Don't-" she started.
"No. No way. What on earth has happened? Sakura, I'm going to fix this right now." More water leapt from his canteen. He'd need to realign all her chakras, expel whatever it was that was inside her, heal whatever trauma was left from that, and then find whoever did this and… and…
Well, he had no idea what he'd do. It was sickening on every level. The most important thing, though, was to start healing Sakura right away. He moved closer, bringing up his hand-
And stopped, reconsidering.
He wanted nothing more than to help the girl in front of him. He could realign her chakras with his own energy, force her natural magic circuits into harmony. It would certainly take care of the worms – like flushing a pipeline, Sakura's own chi would push aside everything holding it back. He could do that.
But afterwards, Sakura would still have what seemed like several dozen large worms inside her body. The one in her heart especially might take offence at its stolen home being bathed in foreign energy. Sakura would be whole and healthy – until the parasites started eating their way out of her.
Lancer couldn't heal that. He was good with waterbending, but repairing a destroyed heart was beyond him. It had been beyond Katara as well, the best healer he'd ever personally known – and more to the point, none of the previous Avatars could have done it either. Drawing on his past lives wouldn't help him here.
Sakura interrupted his frozen indecision. "You should leave me alone," she said, her voice perfectly calm. Lancer would, by far, have preferred her to cry, or scream at him, or show even a quiver of emotion that would tell him she didn't think this was OK. "This isn't anything for you to be concerned over. It's just the way it is here."
Lancer took a couple of deep breaths, and tried really hard not to start shouting. "Sakura, there are things living inside your body, living off your life force.
How can you be fine with this?"
"It's just the way it is here," Sakura repeated. "I have to be this way if I'm to carry on the Matou magecraft. There's no helping it, so just drop it, please, Lancer." She picked up her bag, and made her way upstairs, leaving Lancer bewildered in the hallway.
This was what this world's magic was like? He hadn't expected it to be like bending, but the information provided by the Grail didn't mention anything like
this. No, there was no way. Anything that twisted the chi flows of the body like that
couldn't be the way things were supposed to be.
Something twitched on the floor. He snapped his gaze to it. A worm, wriggling around on the carpet. Lancer walked over, curious. It was odd, and he didn't mean the shape of it. He wasn't familiar with the animals of this world, so maybe it was full of worms that looked like… erm, yes.
No, it was odd because it was the first living thing he'd seen in the house that didn't walk on two legs. You'd expect cockroaches in a house like the Matou's, and moths and flies too, but there weren't.
So what was this worm doing here?
Or that other one, down the hall by the corner?
Or these three, outside the door to the basement?
Lancer was naïve, but he wasn't stupid. So Sakura had been twisted and distorted in the name of the Matou magecraft, had she? Well, he knew exactly the person to ask for answers about that. There was only one person in charge of this awful place.
Lancer opened the door, and strode in to confront Matou Zouken.
Which is why he was very confused when the old man wasn't there.
Fire blossomed like a flower in his palm, casting shadows that crept into every corner, and Lancer checked again – but no, there really was no trace of Sakura and Shinji's grandfather. What there was, though, was worms.
A living carpet of worms, stretching from wall to wall. While none were on the stairs that led up to the main house, the floor seethed with them, their damp forms slithering against one another with the faintest of wet sounds. As Lancer descended closer, they withdrew from the flame, retreating into the darkness of the catacombs. With some trepidation, he stepped onto the floor.
He would have liked to believe that this was some attack, some enemy Master's doing. Sadly, he couldn't convince himself of it.
The Matou magecraft, huh? he thought.
I don't like it.
One of the worms flopped closer, unable to get out of the circle of firelight in time. Lancer approached it, blazing hand held before him. The Air Nomads had raised all their children with a respect for all life, and certainly Lancer had never been one to deliberately harm any innocent creatures. On the other hand, he had the distinct impression that
this creature wasn't innocent at all…
"Servant Lancer," came a raspy voice from behind him. "I do hope you were not planning on harming my familiar. I have little enough power as it is, these days…"
Lancer whirled, and the flame flared in his palm. In its ruddy light, he saw the old man he'd been looking for.
Zouken stood knee-deep in a dense heap of worms, looking as comfortable as if he was standing on a beach. He smiled nastily at Lancer. "You were looking for me, I think. I had my familiars lead you down here, so we could talk in privacy. No sense neglecting security when there's a War on, you know."
Lancer raised an eyebrow. "Shame you were late for a meeting
you called, in that case."
There was a wet chuckle. "Well now, who was the one who came barging in here with fire in his hand? It is difficult maintaining this form at the best of times, and all the more so when my familiars are startled by light and heat." Zouken paused, apparently waiting for something. "You can apologise whenever you're ready, by the way."
"I think not." Lancer's voice turned stony. "What have you done to Sakura?"
"Oh, that was what this was about…" Zouken sighed. "It's not really a secret, but I suppose you didn't know; Sakura is not my granddaughter by blood."
Lancer looked at the man made of worms. "It
is hard to see the resemblance," he said drily.
Another of those hacking chuckles. Something landed inside Lancer's circle of firelight and wriggled away. "Quite. In any case, Sakura's body was unsuited to learn the Matou magecraft as it was. Her magic circuits, her spiritual affinity – she had to go through
quite a few changes before she was ready to learn what I have to teach.
"
Yes, it may seem disgusting to you. But that is my family craft, like it or not. I didn't choose it, I cannot change it, and I refuse to break the chain out of some misguided notion of propriety. You are certainly not in any position to be criticising the means by which I moulded Sakura into a magus capable of summoning a Servant."
It certainly
sounded reasonable. But Lancer had seen – had felt – the horror inside Sakura. Zouken didn't seem to get it: it wasn't just
disgusting, although it totally was. He was
hurting Sakura by forcing his magecraft on her when she wasn't suited for it.
"If Sakura wasn't suitable, why not just teach Shinji?"
Zouken spat. "Bah. I told you when we met, the boy is useless, even more than his father. This family has been poisoned by this land – Tohsaka's doing, no doubt. None now in my family have any talent. We needed new blood, and Sakura was the perfect candidate – talented, still untrained, unaffected by the Tohsaka's treacherous work… and better, unwanted by her old family. Was I supposed to turn her away, deny her gifts when they were exactly what I needed?"
He was
still trying to sound convincing. Lancer kind of had to give him credit for his optimism – anyone else would have given up trying to sound like the good guy when they were standing in a room full of evil penis-worms, some of which he'd stuffed inside his adopted granddaughter. That had a way of souring folks against you. Still, there was no need to be rude.
"I can see your point of view, I guess," Lancer lied. "But I don't agree with it. I think it's time you removed those worms from Sakura. Maybe you can't see what it's doing to her chi, but your granddaughter's messed up real bad, Zouken." Lancer lowered his voice. "Can't you see your tradition isn't worth her suffering? She doesn't have to learn your magecraft anymore. Just let her go. Is it really so bad to let your family craft fade out of the world if it means you can have your granddaughter happy and healthy again?" There. It was a shame about the Matou magecraft, but it couldn't go on like this. Zouken would just have to-
"No."
Lancer froze. "I'm sorry?"
"No, I won't be removing my familiars from Sakura." Zouken smiled at the expression on Lancer's face. "What, did you think I'd do it simply because you asked? You may have been someone worth listening to in your era, Lancer, but I have sacrificed far too much to simply end my entire operation on the say-so of some no-name
hero." He sneered. "It is
you who will have to, as you say, live with it. I would say that that you were free to leave if you did not like it, but I do in fact need you here."
"That's- Zouken, that's
monstrous. You knew what you were doing the whole time?"
"Well, it's
my magecraft, so yes, naturally," said the old man, an indulgent smile on his face.
Lancer took a deep breath, the flame in his hand flaring as he did. Okay, things were worse than he'd thought here. "Zouken, please, see reason-"
"
Grow up," snapped Zouken. The smile had vanished from his face in a heartbeat. "I never thought a hero could be so naïve. I am a
magus, Lancer. If I could preserve my magic by sacrificing a hundred children – even members of my own family – I would do it in a
heartbeat. For my magic, I would consign a hundred souls to hell itself in order to preserve it for the next generation. That is the way things are here, and if any magus tells you different then they are no magus at all.
"Moreover, we are at
war here. There are twelve others in this city right now who want to
kill me. And kill Sakura, and Shinji, and you as well, and maybe the rest of the city too for all I know. I refuse to disarm myself because of your idiotic morality. You will simply have to get with the program."
Zouken broke off, and coughed violently, spattering worms and mucus on the floor. He straightened up, and continued as if nothing had happened. "Now, Sakura is
not being consigned to the pit. She will, if all goes well, live a long and fruitful life as my heir, with all the aid I can provide. I had not even intended her to participate in this early War, but instead complete her training in time for the next. However, should I have obtained the Grail by then, I will of course have no more reason to continue her training. At that point, if she desires it, she may quit.
"So, Lancer. If you truly want to save Sakura? You will stop this foolishness, you will devote yourself to the task I have set you, and you will win the Grail for me."
Lancer looked at Zouken. He couldn't remember hating someone much more than he hated the old man right then. His hand clenched into a fist, and the flame roared to life as a fireball the size of his head, floating above it. "And if I decide to simply stop you right here, take my chances with the War, and save Sakura my own way?"
There was a wet cackle. "Oh, by all means try your hardest! But listen well – even if you kill every worm in this room I would still live, and by the time you went upstairs Sakura would be dead. Of course, I could be lying." Zouken smiled. Lancer remembered the little ball of hate nestling in Sakura's heart, and scowled. "So what will it be? Will you toe the line like a good little
Servant? Or will you risk Sakura's life on the assumption that I can't do exactly what I say?"
For a moment, hero and monster stared at each other. Then Lancer extinguished his fireball and dematerialised. Zouken's laughter echoed in his ears as he left the basement.
---
Sayaka materialised in a swirl of blue motes as soon as Sakura and Taiga had both left after dinner. "So," she said, settling down at the table with a bowl and chopsticks. "Are we going out tonight or what? Also, are there any leftovers around?" She picked around the scattered dishes and plates.
"Leftovers? Not after Taiga's been at them. Remnants, maybe," said Shirou. "Which is why I didn't count on her leaving you any." He reached into a cupboard and got out a couple of Tupperware boxes. Sayaka beamed and clicked her chopsticks together.
"To answer your question," continued Shirou, "Um, I was kind of thinking not tonight? Tohsaka and Caster aren't coming out, and if we're allies we should really try and co-ordinate a little more." He saw the look on his Servant's face. "I know, it kind of bugs me too that we're just sitting here and not doing anything. But, on the bright side, it's not like the Servants are running around killing people left and right this time."
Sayaka tilted her head. "How do you know?"
Shirou shrugged, and pointed to the TV in the corner. "If there'd been a wave of deaths, there'd be something about it on the news. I've been following it all day, and on the radio too – there's been some gang-related activity, but nothing that seems supernatural. Last time, you had children disappearing all over, people being murdered in their homes… I don't remember any of that, but from what Tohsaka told me this previous Caster sounds like a real piece of work."
There was a little
clink as Sayaka set down her bowl. "Fair enough. So what do you want to do, then?"
"Well, actually I'd like to ask you a favour. Before that though – when Tohsaka brought up Archer at school today, you said you wanted to discuss her later in private. What did you want to tell me?"
His Servant's eyes widened. "Oh! Right, yeah, forgot." She bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. "I could be wrong. But from the description of Archer that they gave, it
might be someone I know. Like, in life, I mean."
Wow. That was kind of a coincidence. Heroic Spirits, if Shirou understood correctly, shouldn't be that common – especially ones from later on in history like Sayaka. Sure, you got a few clusters of heroes who shared a legend, like the Argonauts or the Knights of the Round Table, but they were the exception rather than the rule.
"Huh," he said. "So, who do you think she is?"
"I'd have to see her to be sure… but it sounds like she's the magical girl who trained me. I mean, if any of us were going to be a Heroic Spirit, she would be…" There was an odd hitch in his Servant's voice. Nostalgia? Melancholy? Whatever it was, it wasn't something Berserker was designed to express, so he couldn't tell. "She was strong, brave, selfless, cool… everything I aspire to be. And despite all of that, she still died, just like that, when she met an enemy she wasn't ready for. I almost didn't contract because of that, actually."
Shirou reached out and put his hand on top of Sayaka's. She tensed as if about to strike, but forced herself to relax. He pretended not to notice. "She sounds like a real hero. But, hang on. You said she died before you became a magical girl? How did she train you, then?"
Sayaka waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, timeline stuff. From
my perspective, she was dead when I became a magical girl, so I had to learn on my own. But from
hers, that timeline was erased, so she survived and taught me everything I know."
"I see," Shirou lied. "So, I'm guessing that's bad for us, right?"
"Yeah, no kidding. She knows pretty much how I fight, so I won't be catching her off-guard in a hurry. I mean, in her timeline I never had to learn how to deaden pain, and my Noble Phantasm should be new for her. But my general fighting style, all my techniques, she's going to see through all that in an instant." Sayaka sighed, and rested her head on her hand. "Not to mention, I kinda don't want to have to fight my friend. Obviously."
"Well, cheer up," Shirou said. "It should go the other way too, right? You know just as well what she's capable of, and she won't want to fight you. So it's the same, isn't it?"
"Not really. She's a lot more powerful and a
lot more versatile than I am, and she's experienced enough to come up with new tricks off the cuff. And like I said, she taught me, so she knows me better than I know her. As for her not wanting to fight…" Sayaka looked uncomfortable. "That
should be the case. At the least, she'd be open to an alliance. But she had a cold side to her too – and her Master might have her on a tight leash in any case."
Right. A Servant that didn't want to fight might just get itself commanded to do so anyway. Since they would know that from the start, most Servants wouldn't go against their Master's wishes unless they really believed they had to.
"Well," Shirou began, not entirely sure what to say, "we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. If it turns out that Archer is your old mentor, we'll see what she has to say about an alliance when we actually meet her. For now, it's not worth worrying about. On the subject of mentors, though – that was the favour I wanted to ask you about."
"Hm?" Sayaka looked up, confused. There was a bit of rice stuck to her cheek, but Shirou ignored it.
Shirou looked his Servant in the eye. "Sayaka… will you teach me how to fight Servants?"
The Servant of Madness looked up at her Master, her head tilted. Then she burst out laughing.
---
The Emiya dojo was as old as the rest of the house, but it was still well-maintained. Shirou had lots of fond memories of learning kendo from his father there, and not-quite-so-fond memories of being chased round it by Taiga whenever he refused to spar with her. Besides, he took his exercise in there every morning. In the summer, it was a relaxing space to sit and meditate, and the wide screen doors left it pleasantly cool. Even in the winter, it still had a serene air about it that made it a nice place to sit on warmer nights.
Despite this, it hadn't been used as a proper dojo since Emiya Kiritsugu had died. Shirou had stopped practicing kendo, and while Taiga still liked to challenge him to duels every now and again (usually when he refused to make her favourite dish four nights in a row) it had become more of a gym than anything.
Now, two figures faced each other with swords in hand once again. One of them couldn't stop sniggering.
"Okay, maybe I was a bit optimistic," said Shirou.
"You were
adorable," corrected Sayaka. "Teach you to fight Servants… you were so serious about it… pfahahah!"
The tip of Shirou's shinai drooped towards the floor. "Right, right, I get it. I guess what I meant to say was, help me get better against Servants so you can swoop in and rescue me like the dashing knight you are."
"Darn skippy you did." Sayaka got herself under control, and put on a more serious expression. "Why do you want to fight Servants anyway? Do you not have faith that I'll protect you? I told you I would." There was a slightly hurt note in his Servant's voice, and Shirou rushed to reassure her.
"No, no, it's not that. It's just – look, if Archer showed up now and shot at me, what would you do?"
Sayaka looked at him like he was insane. "Uh, take the bullet, obviously. Then try and beat her blonde butt back to Mitakihara."
Just as he'd thought. "That's why. You went through so much pain for me last night. Don't think I didn't see what Saber was doing to you. That must have hurt, but you didn't complain at all."
There was an exasperated sigh. "Oh, you're just being silly. I told you, I'm tanky. I can take a beating, it's-"
"Don't say it's fine. Don't say it didn't hurt. It hurt just watching. Even if you're fine taking those injuries, it doesn't mean I'm fine watching you get hurt for my sake – not if there's something I can do to stop it. To, I don't know, be a more effective distraction, even."
The look on Sayaka's face was complicated, but Shirou guessed it evened out as fond irritation. "Ugh. Well, if it's my Master's order. I can't imagine you even doing that much against that monstrous Saber, but it might work against Assassin or something. Or Caster.
Don't say it," she cut Shirou off as he opened his mouth, "We've been over it, I know."
Hmph. "Well, then. As long as you understand."
"Whatever, weirdo. Are we doing this or not?" Sayaka winked at him, and readied her own shinai. She was using the training sword rather than her own cutlasses for this, for obvious reasons. "Last chance for you to back out. No-one would blame you for not wanting to train by having a Servant beat your ass until you suck a little bit less. Hell,
I wouldn't do it if I were alive, and I was officially insane according to the Grail."
Well, when she put it like that…
No. He'd need this training if he was to have any shot at surviving the War to come. More than that, though, this was his only chance to become the hero he knew he could be. He could withstand a little pain for that. Struggling through adversity was what heroes
did.
"I'm ready," he said, eyes on Sayaka's.
"Groovy," she said, and knocked him out.
---
The Tohsaka house was, like most things related to the Tohsaka, a picture of elegance. Despite the Western-style architecture, it didn't seem out of place in the neighbourhood, although it did look like it was slightly better quality and slightly more expensive than those houses around it. This was entirely an accident on the part of the designers, of course.
The newest addition… was probably not quite what the original architect had had in mind.
"Come in, Master," said Caster, holding the gate to the aviary open for her. It was very impressive that he'd managed to construct it on such short notice, to be fair. Rin just wished it looked a bit nicer. It was essentially a cube of timber and chickenwire attached to the conservatory, lined with perches for the fifty or so crows that called it home.
It was noisy in there, and smelly – Rin had to be very careful about where she stepped. Still, she'd wanted to see it in use, even just once. One didn't get to be a magus by being squeamish, after all.
"Would you care to select one?" asked her Servant, gesturing at the crows around them.
"Does it matter?"
"Not really."
"Then no," Rin decided.
Caster shrugged. "Alright then." Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed the nearest crow. It squawked in protest, but Caster's meaty hand held it fast. With his off hand, he cast a bluish spell at it – and then he snapped its neck in one clean motion.
Rin didn't look away. It was much, much better than the alternative.
With a burst of flame that had the rest of the crows cawing in alarm, Caster disposed of the remains, then produced one of his 'soul gems' from somewhere. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to Rin.
"Very well. Are you satisfied, Master?"
Well, he wasn't being cruel or inhumane at least. Rin nodded. "Yeah, I'm happy with this. When will you need to collect more?"
"Not for a while." A breeze swept through the aviary, ruffling feathers. Caster looked at the sky. "Looks like rain… you should get inside, Master, if you've seen all you need to see. I'll be along shortly."
"Alright. We'll meet in the workshop."
Rin went back inside the house, and made sure to wipe her shoes thoroughly when she came in. Sure, she was going to be taking them off, but there was no need to track that stuff round town either.
As she passed the living room, Kirei called out from where he was seated. "Ah, Rin. Finished slaughtering God's creatures for your unholy work?"
"Fuck off and die in a fire, fake priest," Rin answered cheerfully, stopping in the hallway. "It's Caster's unholy work, not mine. Although I have to say he's a
much better teacher than you are."
"You wound me."
"Oh, if only."
The priest sighed. "I must say, I don't remember raising you to have such a sharp tongue. What would your father say if he could see us now?"
"Probably '
why are you still freeloading in my house, fake priest, get a job and stop sponging off my beautiful daughter'," Rin answered as honestly as she could.
Another, deeper sigh. "Such animosity… in any case, I am glad that I caught you. We are out of chilli sauce."
Rin resisted the urge to grind her teeth. It would be very unladylike. "No, we're definitely not. I saw some just this morning."
"What we have is
sweet chilli sauce. There is no kick to it at all, I am afraid. When next you are out, could I trouble you to purchase some? As thanks, I will cook dinner for the three of us."
Haha, nope. "And here I thought you were supposed to be impartial. Trying to kill me off already, huh?" It wasn't that Kirei was a
bad cook. It was that when Caster had tried the curry the priest had made that evening, he'd described it as 'actually quite painful' and requested a glass of water. Rin had seen her Servant show less reaction to literally being set on fire.
"If you cannot handle a little spice, then I certainly shall not force you. Nevertheless, as I am effectively under house arrest, I would appreciate it if you fetched me some."
"Oh, fine, whatever," Rin grumbled. She could probably have worse roommates, all things considered.
"Thank you. Also, I used the last of your washing powder."
Fffff-
"Back to the subject, then, can assume that you
are about to begin some unholy work, yours or otherwise?"
Rin's eyes narrowed. Why was he so interested all of a sudden? "Yeah… what's it to you?"
"Honestly, I find myself rather interested," Kirei admitted. "To manipulate the soul in such a fashion – rather, to think that such lowly creatures have souls in the first place… from a professional standpoint, your Servant is quite fascinating. I would love to have the chance to witness the process of 'enchanting' first hand."
"Gosh, would you? Well, gee, shame we're doing it in my workshop, where you're forbidden," Rin said, doing a very good job of sounding disappointed, she thought.
Kirei stood up. He looked about as serious as she'd ever seen him; his smirk was almost entirely gone. "That is your prerogative, of course. However, I ask you to reconsider. As a priest, this is genuinely important to me. Whatever you think of me, I
do take that responsibility seriously."
Rin blinked, unsure what to say. She was used to her guardian trying to trick or blackmail her into things. His just
asking nicely was catching her off guard, a bit. Still, she rallied. "Well, if it really is that important to you then I apologise, really. But like I said when you moved in, things are different now. I'm a Master in the Holy Grail War now – I have to think about security above all else. More than that, Caster's experiments may not be safe for you. I should be fine because it's my workshop, but I can't guarantee your safety. I'm sorry, Kirei, but whatever Caster's doing could be-"
"No, that should be fine," a cheerful voice interrupted. Caster materialised in a corner of the room in a whirl of grey snowflake-like motes. "We're not doing anything dangerous tonight, just a bit of enchanting and mixing. It's perfectly safe for the Moderator to observe."
Oh. Well then.
"Ugh. Just do as you please then, I don't care," Rin said, throwing her hands into the air. "Permission granted to Kotomine Kirei to enter the Tohsaka workshop for – will two hours be enough, Caster?" The Servant nodded. "Two hours. Come on then, the pair of you."
She made her way to her workshop, the two men following behind. Sheesh, not that long ago her workshop had been her own private area, and now it was like Tokyo Central Station.
Kirei raised an eyebrow at the new equipment Caster had set up in the room, but otherwise said nothing. He found a chair out of the way, and settled into it.
Caster set himself up at his enchanting table, emptying a small pouch full of freshly-filled soul gems onto it. From a small jewellery box, he pulled a number of gold rings and amulets and placed them to one side. He selected a ring, and got to work.
"What are you making this time, Caster?" she asked. She wasn't worried about distracting him. Doing something like this wasn't a difficult task for her Servant, and in any case he liked to chat while he got on with things.
He hummed. "Something for you again, I think. To improve survivability. Now, health and regeneration, or fire and shock protection…" He began gathering the necessary catalysts and moving them into position on the table.
"Survivability is good," Rin said. "Saber was kind of a wake-up call, wasn't she?"
"She was," agreed Caster. He went on, almost cheerfully. "You know, it's interesting. In life, I would have been able to deal with any number of swordsmen, no matter how strong. Magic has a way of levelling the playing field, after all. What use is strength when I can simply force them to retreat, or stand still as I cut them down? What does it matter how skilled they are when I can freeze them in ice, or just send them flying with a shout?"
Rin considered this. She'd always thought magic was much more important than crude physical combat – although she might be slightly biased on that front – but she hadn't really considered just how much it could make the strengths of others irrelevant or useless.
If you wanted to go that far, Caster was an uncommonly up-front fighter for a spellcaster. Most of his spells only worked within line of sight, after all. She knew that magi specialising in curses could work them on their victims from across a city, or hundreds of miles away. Caster was right, magic really did make conventional force useless.
"I never thought about it that way," she admitted. "Makes me feel silly about having wanted a Saber, I guess. I mean, I already
knew magic was the best way of getting things done, that's why I'm studying it in the first place…" Huh. Something occurred. "So why isn't the Caster class considered the most outstanding Servant instead of Saber?"
Her Servant chuckled. Green light danced around his fingers briefly before he laid his palms flat on the table. "Blatant favouritism on the part of the Founding Families. Am I right, moderator?"
There was a discreet cough from the back of the room, and Kirei leaned forward. "You… are probably not entirely incorrect. The Founding Families never originally intended for one of them to summon a Caster. It was one of the classes added from the Second War onwards, if you recall."
"Yeah, I remember," Rin said. "So how does the favouritism come in?"
"What is the most common Class Skill, Rin?" asked Caster, looking over his shoulder at her.
The capabilities of each Servant were something that Rin had committed to memory by the time she was nine years old. She counted them up – "Oh. Magic Resistance?"
Her Servant laughed again, and turned back to his enchanting. "Magic Resistance, yes. All three Knight Classes have it, and so does Rider. Some Servants have it to more of a degree than others, and it looks like we've been quite lucky in this War – none of them are outright immune to magic like I'd feared. Still, though, that leaves only Berserker and Assassin as the two Servants I can actually fight to my full potential."
And they were allied to one of them, Rin thought glumly. When you put it like that, it really did seem like the Caster class had been set up to fail.
"The Founding Families always intended that they should summon the three Knight Classes between them, or possibly Rider," put in Kirei. "In their minds, it was common sense – the greatest heroes are those famed for their skill in battle and at performing great deeds. The spellcasting legends, the madmen, the skulking killers – these were characters in another hero's story." He looked at Caster. "Saving your presence, of course, Servant of the Spell."
Caster shrugged. "It's a fair assessment. Anyway, I'm not really bothered by the fact that the deck is stacked against us. Heroes struggle against adversity and overcome it – it's what we do. Besides, magic is such a useful tool that it really only levels the playing field and forces us to get creative."
Well, if Caster wasn't worried by it, then Rin wouldn't be either. Certainly she hadn't felt at a disadvantage throughout the War so far, although that might have been her Servant's ability to cross-specialise. And on a more personal level – which other Servant would have been capable of creating magic items for her? Ones that, crucially, wouldn't disappear when the War was over?
From a long-term perspective, then, Caster really was the best Servant to summon. "Makes you feel bad for Assassin, though," she mused. "One of two classes vulnerable to Caster's magic – and doesn't even get a power boost out of the deal like Berserker."
Silence met her statement, and Caster and Kirei shared a look. The priest motioned to the Servant to go on.
"Ah, Rin… Assassin should be the second-best Servant to summon. Maybe the first, if the Caster is particularly incompetent."
Okay, now thy were just pulling her leg. Rin folded her arms and frowned at Caster. "Yeah? I thought Assassin was the weakest of all Servants. They've never lasted long in any previous War, that's for sure." She turned and looked at Kirei. "You should know – you were Master of Assassin last time, and they were the first Servant killed."
Kirei just smiled. "In my case, your father decided that Assassin was of no further use to us. The plan was never to win with them, but simply to scout our opponents before crushing them with the King of Heroes."
"And that is precisely why no Assassin has won a Grail War," said Caster. He turned from the enchanting table and tossed a gold ring at Rin. "Every previous Assassin has been controlled by magi – who have no idea how to properly employ such an asset."
Well, Rin was confused. "Wasn't Father's plan a good one? It sounds reasonable to me. Scout your enemy, get information, then move in to attack once you have it."
"From his perspective, there wasn't really anything wrong with his plan… it would certainly be effective," said Caster slowly. "But Rin, why on Earth do you need information on your foes when you have the King of Heroes? Such an ancient and powerful hero should be able to power through any opposition, no matter what it is. If your father's plan has a fault, it's that it doesn't have any room for using Assassin to its full potential."
"You're going to have to explain this to me, because I'm not getting it," said Rin. "If Gilgamesh was such a powerful hero how can you say Assassin is the better class to summon?"
Once again, Kirei spoke up from behind them. "Let us put it this way. What is the win condition for the Holy Grail War?"
That was an easy one. "Defeat all the other Servants."
Caster crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Wrong."
What? It
was! Then Rin realised what she'd missed out. "Oh, right – defeat all the other Servants or
Masters."
"Wrong again."
Oh come on! Rin all but stamped her foot, and could feel her face turning red. "Okay then, smart guy, what is it?"
Kirei smiled as though indulging a very stupid pupil. It made Rin absolutely furious, and he knew that, so it was one of his favourite expressions. "The win condition for the Holy Grail War is simply this: be the Master of the last Servant standing."
Rin blinked. "That is
literally what I just said."
"No. Think about it."
She tried, she really did. Frowning, looking at the floor, Rin really thought about what these two
assholes were trying to teach her with all this. In the context of Assassin being one of the best Servants to summon…
Ah. Aha. Assassin's specialty wasn't direct combat with the other Servants. They were usually weaker than the others – not as strong, not as fast, not as tough. Against most other Servants, they'd lose nine times out of ten.
But Assassin didn't fight Servants if it could help it. Instead it went after Masters – almost exclusively unless it was forced into battle. And although it was a weak Servant… it was still a Servant. A Master against an Assassin, even a weak one, couldn't really be called a battle. And once the Master was dead, the Servant would quickly follow.
So, putting it all together: it didn't matter that Assassin was no good in a battle because Assassin didn't
get into battles in the first place. It didn't waste time or energy trying to defeat beings who'd made it to the Throne of Heroes based on how good they were at killing things – it just cut off their power supply.
Or it waited to let a more powerful foe do the job for them. Or it distracted them at a crucial moment. And if any of that failed, it retreated and tried again.
Power, irrelevant. Skill, irrelevant. Noble Phantasms, irrelevant. Assassin laughed at all of those things and solved the problem it actually needed to solve.
"I think I get it now," she said quietly. "Assassin is the best Servant to summon… because it's the only one that's trying to win. Really, honestly, actually trying to do their best to make sure it's the last one standing. We call it the Holy Grail War… but that's a trick. There doesn't need to be any fighting to begin with. It's a ritual, that's all, and it happens to need six dead Servants to power it. In the end, it was something so simple…"
Caster clapped his hands together. "Well done, Master. Knowing that, does it change your strategy at all?"
Yeah. Yeah, thinking about it, she hadn't had much of a plan beyond 'have Caster beat up the competition'. She'd come up with a similar plan for dealing with Saber, because Saber was too strong to deal with any other way – but why hadn't she realised that she could deal with
everyone that way? She was too hung up on the idea of it being a War, she supposed. Of imagining herself winning it.
Ridiculous. She just needed to complete the ritual.
Her Servant nodded approvingly. "Yes, I can see you understand. Good! Having said all that, I still think Caster is the better Servant, because it can manipulate the rules of the ritual to its own advantage… but the point is moot. Like I told you when we met – I am your assassin. Tell me to strike your enemies dead, and I will do so." He bowed his head to her.
"I must admit, I am impressed," put in Kirei. "For a Servant to see the truth of the ritual for what it is – you are certainly a rare one, Caster. All the more so that you persuaded your Master of the fact as well…" He turned to Rin. "If I may say so, Rin, your father would never have entertained the notion. That you now have speaks well of your ability to survive this War." Kirei's voice turned almost wistful.
"In the last War, the Masters were a collection of fools, myself chief among them. There was just one who understood what we were trying to do, who worked towards his goal with cunning and ruthlessness.
Magus Killer, we called him, for his methods, and he was the Master of Saber. Just like the Saber of this War, she was powerful and glorious in her might, undefeated on the field of battle. But I tell you this, Rin.
"Had the Magus Killer and I swapped Servants, so that he drew Assassin and I, Saber… I would surely not be alive today."
---
It had been a frustrating half-hour for Shirou, to say the least.
Oh, and also incredibly painful, of course. Sayaka had some very basic healing skills of her own, so he was never knocked out for too long and didn't have to worry about a concussion. Still, though, there wasn't really a way to make being repeatedly battered around the face and head a
pleasant experience.
He'd known that going in, though. No, the problem he had at the moment was…
"Y'okay there, Shirou? Look, maybe we should stop. Hate to say it, but we're kinda getting nowhere here." Sayaka looked worried. She hadn't broken a sweat – although Servants probably didn't need to sweat, come to think of it. Still, she'd been barely trying the whole time.
Shirou picked up the shinai from where he'd dropped it at his feet. "One more time."
His Servant looked as though she wanted to argue, but instead just sighed. "You're the boss…"
She took a simple guard stance, and Shirou mirrored her. They stood, weapons locked together. Like this, Shirou could feel the force Sayaka put on her weapon. If it sharply increased, that meant she was trying to push his own blade out of position to open him up for a strike. If it suddenly vanished, she was pulling her blade away in preparation for a blow, and he would use the time to score a pre-emptive hit.
His eyes stayed locked on Sayaka – not so much her eyes as the set of her shoulders. The next indicator after the force of the blade itself would be there. Meanwhile, his own shoulders stayed relaxed and still. Not tense, that would slow him down, but ready to move in any direction.
Across the hardwood floor, his opponent was doing the same thing. Shirou took a tentative step forward. Sayaka matched the movement, staying at the same distance. Not too close, not too far. Shirou applied pressure on her shinai, and she matched it without overcompensating and opening herself up.
For a moment, there was a deadlock.
But Servant Berserker could never remain patient for very long.
The pressure on the blade vanished – and Shirou whipped his own across in a desperate block. Sayaka's shinai bore down on his guard like a tidal wave and it was all he could do to focus on her to guess where the next strike would come from-
Left, right, left, Sayaka swung her shinai like it was made of foam but each hit sent jolts down his arms when he blocked. He felt himself get trapped in her rhythm and struck out at her head desperately.
It hit, and he felt like he'd struck solid stone. His shinai flew out of his grip – and before it could even land Sayaka landed four hits across his ribs and arms. He collapsed to the floor, panting. The floor was cool and smooth against his face.
"Hey! Nice job, Shirou, you totally hit!" Sayaka crouched down beside him. Shirou turned his head and tried to struggle to his knees, but his arms refused to support his weight. He collapsed and lay still instead.
"You still hit me after I scored the point… that's playing dirty, Sayaka."
"We were playing for points?" Shirou couldn't see his Servant's face, but she sounded confused. "Heck, no-one told
me that. I thought the idea was to get you to the point where you could actually fight."
Shirou groaned. "Gee, thanks…"
"No, no, it's alright! Next time we see Saber we'll just tell her we're only supposed to be scoring hits on each other. Boy, will
she be embarrassed when she finds out she's been doing it wrong this whole time!"
"Alright, alright, you've made your point…"
Ugh. She was right, though. Shirou had gone into this treating it like a kendo match because that was what he was used to. After he'd struck, it simply hadn't occurred that his opponent would fight on-
Okay, no, he couldn't use that as an excuse. He'd
dropped his weapon when Sayaka had been so unexpectedly sturdy. He could have been as prepared as he liked, it wouldn't have made any difference. God, what was
wrong with him?
"I'm sorry, Sayaka."
"Hm?"
"I swear, I never used to be this bad. I can't believe I've gotten so rusty. I guess I'm a pretty hopeless Master, huh? Can't do magic, can't fight…"
His Servant giggled. "True. It's a good thing you're pretty, or else you'd be entirely useless." She patted his head. "But honestly… from where I'm standing you're doing just fine."
What? But he'd been rubbish all evening. It was like he was making a mockery of her efforts to teach him. He rolled over and looked up into Sayaka's smiling face.
"I know it doesn't feel like that now," she continued. "But although your swordsmanship is
horrible – I mean,
wow – there's nothing wrong with your instincts or your reflexes. Honestly, it's the 'holding a sword' bit that's letting you down more than anything. Practice might help, might not, but… I have an idea." She hopped to her feet and held a hand out.
Shirou took it, a bit gingerly, and Sayaka yanked him to his feet as if she was lifting a teddy bear. "What's your idea?"
The servant bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, and limbered herself up. Out of habit, Shirou assumed – Servants were combat-ready at all times. "Okay, so, I'm thinking it's a terrible idea for you to actually fight Servants, especially when you can't even hold a sword without somehow tripping over the hilt and knocking yourself out."
"That was
one time."
"Yeah, and I still don't understand how you managed it. You were
holding the hilt at the time- oh, whatever.
Anyway – like I said, your instincts reflexes are fine. So, we're going to train those."
Shirou backed up. "Uh. Train them how?"
Berserker smiled happily. "Simples! I'm going to attack you, and your job is to escape the room. Do what you have to do, but your job is to escape." With a blue shimmer, a cutlass appeared in her hand.
Shirou backed up rather more. "Why the cutlass?"
"It's for motivation, Shirou! Now git!"
He ducked away from the first blow, and heard it whiff through the air above him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the shinai he'd dropped, and lunged for it-
Silver flashed, and his hand exploded in pain. Shirou rolled backwards as a booted foot stomped where his head had been.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Berserker scolded. "No swords for Shirou!" She whirled, cape flowing around her, and struck a pose. Damn her, she was having fun.
She came in for an overhead strike, and Shirou somehow turned his body at the last second. It sailed past his chest – then his leg collapsed from underneath him as Berserker kicked it.
He rolled, taking him further away. How was he supposed to survive if he couldn't fight back? She had the range advantage on him, not to mention the overwhelming gap in speed and strength. What did he have?
Well, he had two hands…
Berserker pulled back for her next strike. He had a fraction of a second to respond. Instead of ducking or stepping out, Shirou stepped
in and threw a punch at her face. Up close she couldn't get the full power from the swing and she'd be distracted by the-
Shirou hit the ground hard, and just barely pulled himself to his feet in time to avoid Berserker's downward stab. The metal blade sunk into the wooden floor like it was cold butter.
Dammit. Even a fraction of a Servant's striking power meant he still went flying. The only way to defend against her strikes was to not get hit in the first place. Likewise, a simple punch to the face was going to do nothing to Berserker. As far as he was concerned, she may as well have been invulnerable.
But… maybe there was a way.
Shirou stepped back into a wider stance. He'd need a good footing for this plan. His eyes watched Berserker – he hardly dared blink. There was only one strike this would work on, and he
couldn't miss it when it came. Almost on automatic, his body turned and ducked away from his opponent's swipes and slashes and bone-breaking kicks. She wasn't going for it – so he moved his hands into position to bait her, one hand at his hip, the other straight out in front, covering himself from either side but leaving himself open in the middle.
There. His opponent was moving almost too fast to keep track of but he could see it, the way her sword lined up straight with her body for a lunge. Shirou moved, the other was too fast for him to react to so he had to move
now before they even started.
The cutlass plunged forward. Shirou's guard was pierced through in an instant, it was obvious that he'd be hit… and then his torso was clear, turned sideways, the blade hitting only air, and both arms came
round and
down and
through-
Ky***our**u – C*r*sa**h**um, whispered an almost unfamiliar voice inside his head.
Metal shards flew, but Shirou barely even noticed. He had to counterattack, now, while his opponent was off-guard from losing their weapon. His forward hand swept out at eye level, fingers flat, the edge of his palm hard as steel. An attack to blind, to distract, to crack a helmet or take an eye while his rear hand hardened into a fist to crush the weak point at the neck-
His forward hand struck his opponent's temple – and broke.
A dull pain shocked through him. It was the kind that feels like plunging your hand into warm water, the kind where you
know you just hurt yourself really bad. It broke his focus entirely. Tears filled his eyes, his teeth gritted, and it was all he could do to remain upright.
Sayaka's head moved about an inch.
"Oh my god, Shirou, are you okay?" she said, dropping the hilt of her sword and rushing to put a hand on his shoulder. "Jeez, I never meant for you to try and attack me barehanded… let me take a look at that for you, okay? Give it here…"
Wait, what on Earth had just happened? He felt like he'd just woken up from a dream. While Sayaka fussed over him, Shirou looked at his hands. Maybe it was just the injuries, but they didn't seem entirely his own.
He'd… somehow broken Sayaka's sword. Trapped it between his body and his arms and snapped it. More, he'd been dodging her strikes just before that – sure, she hadn't been going anything near full speed, but even so.
This wasn't right. Some people were naturally more talented than others – but no-one just suddenly discovered a gift for martial arts that would let them survive against a Servant, even one who wasn't taking it seriously. Shirou was realistic about his abilities, and he was nowhere near good enough to do what he'd just done.
So how had he done it?
Sayaka was frowning. "Wow, you really busted your hand up good. Hold on a sec, let me heal it…" A blue glow surrounded her hand, accompanied by the faint sound of an orchestra tuning up.
And then Shirou's body lit on fire with pain. Not from his injuries, but from the inside. It wasn't even the usual dull ache of exercise, either, though he'd certainly been working hard. It was as though he'd suddenly rejected every organ he had, and most of his bones and muscles and nerves besides.
As though he was being reforged from the inside out.
This time he really did fall over, convulsing on the hard floor of the dojo.
"Shirou!" he heard his Servant yell in panic. Dimly, he saw a brighter blue glow and realised she was healing him. Gah… he'd made her worry again.
The pain increased again – but this one was familiar. It was his magic circuit, blazing away inside him like it usually did when he cast a spell.
But I didn't make a magic circuit today…
Shirou let Sayaka roll him into the recovery position, and concentrated on staying conscious through the torture. Goddammit all. How was he going to fight a War when he was too busy fighting his own body?
And losing?
, but the first thing i was drawn to was not the story but your fucking profile picture keeps distracting me while i read XD
