Chapter Two
I was not a bad cook, but Shiro was better. Shiro was better at a lot of things, and really, should have received all the praise in the world. Whereas I had natural talent and a lie to bolster my strengths, she had nothing but hard work, and a desire to improve and thrive even in the ugliest of situations.
I might have learned how to work at a counter in less time than Shiro, but Shiro had kept practicing until her work had become perfect and flawless, while mine had always been 'good', but never 'excellent'. I saw no reason to strive for it. It was a job, and it was a job done well enough to be considered good.
Was there any purpose in doing it even better? Anything beyond a gratification that would soon pass and disappear, becoming 'obvious' and 'the average' with enough time?
Excellency is a one-time thing, in my opinion. You can keep striving to be excellent, but failures will bring forth scorn and despising remarks. Being average with ease, without having to work hard for it, will give you a buffer zone to show off your excellency in case of praises, and as one-time things, they will allow you to always be considered the best, even when by all circumstances, you should not be.
My line of thought was not apparently the one Taiga liked. "Just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean you shouldn't improve it. Right now, I am sure I have more knowledge of the English language than you. The grammar, the structure, you need to be able to know that to teach it to kids."
"Just because it was hard for you," I replied. "Doesn't mean it has to be the same for me."
"That is not what I meant," Taiga said. "Man, when Shiro's home she worries about you, and when she isn't, I can't even get a word in."
"My sister worries too much," I admitted with a nod. "How is she doing?"
"As her guardian, I couldn't be prouder," Taiga said. She took a sip of hot tea, and then waited, her eyes settled on me. "But she is not the only one Kiritsugu entrusted to me."
I grimaced as I took a sip of my tea. Taiga had green tea, and I had Earl Grey. I could not stand the bitterness of Japanese tea, and the moment I found a store that sold it, I hid a stash of it in the house. 'Tea' was acceptable, while 'Coffee' was not. Another prejudice I had no power to destroy.
"I don't need help," I said, and immediately regretted saying that sentence. 'I don't need help' does not work on people who sincerely wish to help. It works on those who say the sentence out of obligation, or fake kindness, but not with people who really want to help. Those who want to help, they will help you even if you're against it, even if you refuse, or fight them.
"I know Shiro took the loss of your father hard," Taiga began, "But he was your father too. I feel you are hiding your pain because it would make Shiro worry, but you don't have to. You don't have to shoulder the responsibilities of a guardian for Shiro, or you'll start making me feel bad for coming over."
"You have to justify eating here, don't you?" I remarked dryly.
Taiga smiled brightly, and nodded as she spoke, "Exactly! Wait. No, not like that!" She glared at me for a bit, but without any heat. Finally, she sighed. "You have to let us in. If not me, at least Shiro deserves it. She puts up with you enough."
"You are already inside the house," I said. "Is that not enough?"
"You know what I'm referring to," Taiga said.
I knew, of course. It was because I knew that I did my best to ignore it. It was because I knew that they knew I was hiding something that I acted dense enough to force her to pry the words out of her, and then mine, mouth. Unfortunately, Taiga cared about Shiro and me enough that she would. If to find out the truth she had to walk on raking coals, she would with us on the line. She was a good woman.
"You've never been the most talkative of the two. You've never been the most friendly. You've always pushed and pulled against all restraints and did everything you wanted. Kiritsugu didn't stop you, because he told me you knew your limits better than any of us would. I don't know if I can stop you either, because if he couldn't, then what are my chances? Shiro though, she has a bright future ahead of hers, but she's too busy worrying after her brother to care about it."
"Using such a cheap trick will get you nowhere," I replied bluntly, "My sister's not so weak-willed she'd let something as trifle as this get in the way of her studies."
"You think the bond you share with her is trifle?" Taiga asked with a small smile. "You are already rattling your hackles at her mention."
I took another sip of the tea to calm down. I did not speak, and a heavy silence hung in the room. Taiga smiled, as if sure of her victory in a battle that I couldn't understand, or that maybe I did, and that my sanity hid from me in an effort to keep me sane.
It could probably be a mixture of both. "You have said your piece," I said in the end. "And I remain unconvinced."
Taiga pouted, and then smiled. "You know what this calls for?"
"Not what you think," I replied. I had no intention of starting a 'Dojo Beat Down' hidden behind a facade of a 'Training session'. "I don't want to sweat before dinner."
Taiga Fujimura did not insist. In a straight fight, I would lose even against the weakest of her pupils. Shiro was good with Kendo, and swords in general. I wasn't. I didn't have to be.
I used the might of technology, the enduring sweat and blood of thousands of years to create the weaponry to kill better, to kill with more ease, to destroy lives and reap rewards.
And it suited me just fine. For all of my 'brilliance', I was clad in a shroud of darkness that snuffed out all light. I was sure I'd summon Assassin naturally, if he weren't already booked by Caster.
"Could you take Shiro in?" I asked as I looked down at the top of my cup, trembling lightly from the tremor in my hands.
Taiga blinked. "Whaaaaaaa-?" she exclaimed, shocked and with her eyes wide. "What are you-Why?" she managed to say, her eyes fixed on me with shock, and no uncertain amount of disbelief. I stared right back at her.
"It's not safe," I said. "A young boy and a young girl under the same roof, not tied by blood, it's really not safe. You're a woman, she's a girl. She'd be better off with you, and I wouldn't have to suffer her incessant nagging about waking up for school."
"That's a lie," Taiga said. Her lips had moved to say 'Bullshit', but she didn't. "That's a lie, and yet I feel inclined to agree with you." She closed her eyes, "You Emiya men are so unfair," Taiga said.
"It's for the best," I said as calmly as I could, "I'll break the news to her."
Taiga stood up, and stepped away from the table. "One day, you'll have to stop lying and face the truth."
"Maybe," I acquiesced. "But it is not this day."
The night went on peacefully after Taiga's departure. Well, for a definition of peaceful that had nothing to do with the concept of peace, and everything to do with the concept of 'prowling night tiger'.
Shiro had come back home late, in a slightly hurry and wet with sweat from the exertion of running. Her face promised threats of body violence, but my eyes saw something that made her quickly scamper away in a hurry.
"And what is that?" I asked, blocking her by grabbing her arm as she tried to move past me.
"Nothing," Shiro said. "I-I must have dripped the sauce on the cloth."
"You dip your boxed lunch in blood now? Since when did you grow fangs?" I queried, making her turn and looking at the wound. Well, no, it wasn't a wound. There wasn't even a scar to see on the unblemished skin. There was blood around the hole in the cloth, of course. It was the blood that meant that the games had started.
It meant peace was shattered.
And I had been a day too late in getting Shiro to safety, but maybe not in safeguarding her for the aftermath of the battle. I knew, deep down, that it wasn't as if I needed to stick my neck out for long -I had lied to Kiritsugu, I had no intention of being a Hero of Justice, but with my lie, he had found peace. I just wanted to keep Shiro safe. If this hadn't happened, she'd be fine. If it did, I'd have to intervene, but not to win the Grail -I didn't care one ounce about the trinket, not a single bit.
I cared only about saving the city of Fuyuki and its inhabitants, those I cared for at least.
"Go take a bath," I said as I pulled away from the no longer existing wound, "You stink."
"Hey!" Shiro exclaimed, "That's not something you tell a girl, you jerk."
She punched me on the arm lightly, and hurried off. "Dinner might be late!" she yelled, "Don't steal the snacks while I'm bathing!"
I flipped open the phone and bit down on my lower lip as I hastily pushed the numbers, two times I heard the 'beep' of the ringing, and at the third one, the old man on the other side picked up. "It's begun," I said, and nothing more had to be said. I closed the phone, and waited. I waited until the water began to fall in the shower, and then I walked quietly into the bathroom.
Shiro was inside the bath room, showering. I had no intention of peeking, and my hands didn't even bother for a single second on her underwear. I grabbed the blood-soaked clothes and stepped outside, closing the door as quietly as I could. For the summoning ritual, I needed a catalyst. Shiro's blood, belonging to a body that held Avalon, should have sufficed. And if not, then I would work with what the Holy Grail would see fit to grant me.
I stepped outside with the blood-soaked clothes hidden beneath my jacket, turning just to give off a false impression to those who might be watching. "I'll be off then! See you later!" I said, knowing fully well she wouldn't hear me under the shower head -and on the other side of the house to boot.
My heart drummed in my chest, and nervousness would have paralyzed, had I not acknowledged my weak self prior to this, and acted in such a way as to at least suppress it. Self-Hypnosis wasn't something grand, or even something that worked most of the time, but it did calm my heart. It seems such a stupid thing to learn 'how to calm yourself', but think about how many times you would have benefited from it. During tests, when making difficult decisions, in matters of life and death, a cool head usually can come up with a solution the instinctive reaction programmed in our minds -self-survival- would have never found.
The Emiya magic crest held knowledge. It held knowledge, and research. Under Kiritsugu, the research had stagnated. Under me, it would have probably gone in the wrong direction all together. I had no Avalon in my body -Shiro needed it to survive the fire, I, on the other hand, did not. I knew conceptually of Time Alter - Accel and Time Alter - Stagnate and against human opponents, they'd be wonderful. Against Servants, they were meaningless.
Against Lancer, who prided himself in his skill with the lance, it would at most be a single dodge, executed if the opponent had pride blinding him -and no more.
I was headed into the workshop, and from the workshop, the plan was simple. I was going to summon my servant. The only one remaining was Saber now, and there was thus no other way to go but hope that a fitting Saber would be summoned. Shiro's name could mean 'Castle', and while it was a stretch, I would have been fine even with a variant of Saber. Of course, the blood was no Catalyst in the proper sense of the term. It wasn't a holy relic, and it hadn't belonged to her.
But the blood was powerful in its own right, and maybe it would work just fine. Or maybe it wouldn't, but I hardly had another chance. This was the last possibility before having to directly involve Shiro. If this worked, I'd shoulder it all. If it didn't, she had to shoulder a part of it, and I already knew it would end up badly if she did.
I closed the doors of the workshop, and calmly placed my hands down on a nearby sphere. The Bounded Field around the premises had been a painstaking product to realize, and while meaningless to the many magi far more skilled than I, it was not designed with the intent to halt, or block, or slow down or anything that could aid me in a battle.
It simply kept things as they were on the visible spectrum with a short two minute time-frame.
Like watching a recording with a camera lens, the next two minutes would be recorded, and then shown to the observer. I had two minutes to summon Saber, and vacate the premises.
Lancer -if he remained true to his purpose- had to kill the eyewitnesses and report back to Kirei, but if faced with Saber, he'd retreat.
There was just one last thing to do.
I moved the crates away and dropped the piece of white cloth on the ground. I took a small breath, and extended my right hand. This was the moment where everything had to work.
Summoning a servant was not difficult. Give mana into the circle of summoning, and the Grail does the rest if you have a proper catalyst. If you don't, start chanting. If you start a chant, be sure it's something easy to follow through.
I admit, I had expected this to not work as well as intended.
When the bright, dazzling light show came to an end, I wasn't dead. The world was pretty much still spinning, and a lithe woman remarkably similar to Saber stood in front of me. The catalyst had worked in the sense that in front of me was a version of Saber, unfortunately, it hadn't been strong enough, and so in the end the personal preference had won out.
Why did it have to be a blonde was beyond my ability to understand, but if such was the rule of the Grail -to make the Saber class a lithe woman- then I accepted it wholeheartedly.
The girl looked around for a bit, her expression one of open disdain for the chaos, or maybe the dust, until her eyes finally met mine.
"I ask of you, are you my master?" she asks, and all I do is nod at the blue and white clad woman.
"Answer me...Are you my praetor?" she asks, and all I do is nod at the red and white clad woman.
"We will talk later. We have people to kill." She says, and I nod firmly, showing the black and red woman the way out.
"I suppose it could have been worse," she said with a crisp voice. "Beautiful young boys are good. Beautiful young girls are better. My singular preference is beauty...you are neither, but I will make do. I give you the honor of being my Praetor, which you will, of course, accept."
"I've already got a headache," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose as I watched Nero, the Red Saber, walk out of the summoning circle as the back of my hand glowed with the symbols of the three command seals.
"Oh?" Nero said, "It is beyond me to concerns myself with your health, but as a merciful emperor, I can bestow my sympathy upon you, praetor."
Yes, you do that Nero. I...I just have to convince you to walk out the backdoor now.
"I appreciate the thought," I said, "But actions speak louder than words. Let us go somewhere less dusty to discuss the tactics to win this war, oh great and merciful emperor," I had to hold on to my self-hypnosis to prevent the drawling from showing.
"You are not asking my name," Nero remarked as I stepped right next to her, headed for the backdoor. "You are not as much as befuddled by my beauty?"
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," I replied. "But these are words of flattery, meaningless without the truth behind them. If you seek to prove to me that you are, indeed, breath-taking as I claim...please do follow me."
I opened the backdoor. "You have a way with words the likes of Seneca," Nero said, a lingering memory behind her eyes casting a shadow over her gaze. "I feel you are making fun of me. In which case, be prepared. I so enjoy a comedy...when I am not the joke of it."
We stepped outside just in time for Lancer to step right inside the workshop.
Now, here is a funny tidbit. Servants are immune to modern weaponry. This means, and you'd be right in your understanding, that no amount of nuclear explosions would be capable of killing one. It's sad, but it's the truth. Even humans who managed to kill servants did so with more than enough circumstances behind it to justify such a thing. To strike one is like hitting a steel beam, even the weakest child-like version of one could rip a human being in half with a very basic application of strength.
However, for all of their strengths, they have a weakness. That weakness is magic. Of course, since magic cancelling effects exist, as well as magic resistance, it would be sometime hard to get a servant to enter a specifically set up area. Even the blindest would see that there is a trap in an area with magic.
But a Magus' workshop is naturally a place where such things happen, and not a single Magus would be so foolish as to sacrifice his entire life in research by allowing his workshop to be breached or, even worse, to be used as bait.
I was the exception to the rule.
Kiritsugu had claymore mines stashed away which a strong enough blast to mow down teams of units. While admittedly ineffective against servants, and while definitely requiring a tripwire of sort to activate -or in my case, a button- there was one thing that could be done to a claymore.
One didn't have to shoot out iron pellets after all.
Kiritsugu had expended most of his Origin Bullets, but he was dying, and he had more ribs to give. Prosthetic advances had made him a fake third, and in exchange the Servant known as Lancer knew pain.
I wouldn't have been able to prepare such a thing alone, but again, I had knowledge.
I had baited Lancer inside the workshop with the knowledge that he could not leave Shiro alone, and with the fact that he could not allow an incognita to interfere. He had come for me first, judging me the threat to subdue. He hadn't expected to find a Master of course, just a random Magus. He regretted his mistake immediately.
The explosion tore asunder my workshop, driving bullets made of concepts harboring Severing and Binding into his frame with enough strength to shatter his armor, exposing his bleeding midriff which immediately sealed. The servant jumped back, the explosion enough to wound, but not kill, the mythical hero of Ireland.
And that when he fell for another trap.
You see, this is the true genius of my knowledge.
Lancer's Hero is yes, renowned and famous, but in his demise...traps played an important part, thus making him naturally weak to such an element, for it was part of his defeat.
"You rotten-" his voice came out as a strangled snarl, but already I had calculated it. I had calculated him jumping back, aiming to leave the bounded field. So I pushed another button and electricity soared to life. It was a very simple trick. An extremely limited usage of Transfer of Power, nothing more than simply having the electric wires within the walls transmit electricity outside of them.
It was magic. It was powered by extra generators to give enough power in a single burst to power-up the city of Fuyuki. It was a trap.
It was enough.
Lancer fell down, a twitching form that barely seemed to hold on.
"Could you do me the favor of killing the first servant?" I asked Nero.
Nero looked at me. I gestured at Lancer.
"I am sorry we could not properly greet each others," Nero said, plunging her sword straight through Lancer's spine. "Praetor! You demonstrated a cunning not unlike that of the Coliseum's trap masters! I approve of the fire, but not of the way it was done. Where was the sweat and the blood of two contestants fighting each other? Where was the roar of the crowd, clamoring for more? Alas, I can hardly expect any better."
"Kaga! What's going on!?" I groaned at the nickname Shiro used to call me. You see, the word 'Kaga' is terribly similar in the Italian pronounciation to a verb, a verb that means 'to shit'.
"Oh! Oh~ Oh-oh-oh!" Nero moved nimbly across the courtyard to the entrance of the house, where a wide-eyed Shiro clad in her bath towel and holding on to a reinforced shinai was. "I think I'll like this Domus! It's not as big as I wish, but with a cute girl like-"
I pinched the bridge of my nose again.
I had dealt with Lancer by using his weakness, thankfully with Saber in the background.
'Twack' was the sound the shinai made when Shiro hit Nero on the face. 'Twack' 'Twack' 'Twack' came again, at least until the shinai broke, and Nero appeared undaunted and unperturbed. I simply turned away from the pitiful groans of Shiro and stepped back in the house.
It was too late to keep Shiro ignorant of it all, so I just took out the coffee from the hidden compartment and prepared a mug of it. Explanations were due.
And with explanations, Shiro would probably hit me a few times just because she could, and would.
So I drank my coffee, and allowed the soothing sensation of the beverage to placate my nerves.
"Praetor! Her skin's so soft -it rivals Octavia's!"
I did not need that information. I really did not need it.
