Chapter 322 - 2-3

Chapter 2: The Perfect Patsy

A/N: For people getting an email for this chapter now, it's not new, I just split chapter one in two for better structuring. You do not need to read it again. There is nothing new. Chapter one has one new prologue scene and that is it. 

Bazett Fraga McRemitz hadn't known what to think when Kirei had first offered her a slot in the 5th Holy Grail War. It was not something she had ever expected. The last spot for a Clocktower mage should have gone to Lord El-Melloi II, he was the one who wanted to be here… but it had been offered to her. For some reason.

Bazett didn't even know what she would wish for if she were to win, and that was the requirement of entry. She shouldn't be here, a part of her couldn't help but feel that way. She was just an enforcer, not anyone aspiring to reach the root. This was way above her paygrade.

And that was why Bazett was here. Because she shouldn't be. She had laughed when Kirei first brought it up… but she had agreed to participate. She had accepted the Command Spells he transferred to her, their form shifting on her skin to form the shape of her prized treasure, the Noble Phantasm of her lineage.

Bazett her entire life had been expected to follow a certain path. To be a Fraga. A secluded mage in the mountains who lived in isolation. One who merely studied their craft and achieved nothing greater. She was expected to be a woman, wear pretty dresses, and find a nice man to settle down with.

And Bazett had never been interested in any of that. From a young age, she had gravitated to the heroes in stories, not the damsels. Why would she want to be the one to be rescued? Why would she want to sit on the sidelines and smile prettily? She wanted to be like Cú Chulainn.

Her parents considered her rebellious. All of her life decisions had certainly come across that way. She had bought the pantsuit she was wearing used, a mystic code meant to protect a man and made it her own look. She had left the family to go study at the Clocktower, the first Fraga in generations to do so.

The Clocktower didn't want her, but she still didn't let that deter her. And when she completed her studies, she decided to stay. Then eventually, she was promoted to the role of a Sealing Designation Enforcer. She did not hesitate to use Fragarach in her role, to accomplish her job. Most mages would have balked at that– her family did. Exposing a mystery from the Age of Gods, but Bazett hadn't hesitated. She was more practical than esoteric. Tradition bowed to efficiency.

So she had accepted the offer to join the Grail War when Kirei insisted on it. Because she didn't know what she wanted from the Grail… and wanted to find that answer. Because she wasn't expected to be here… but she was.

And because she wanted to meet her hero. To save him from his inevitable fate.

Cú Chulainn.

That was why she was standing next to a summoning circle, waiting for vision to return to her. This was her base of operations for the Grail War, her rented room in the Hyatt Hotel where she had painted a summoning circle out of her blood. The last place you would expect a mage to build their stronghold. She had few bounded fields surrounding the room, but nothing substantial. She was banking on hiding in plain sight and beating up anyone who managed to find her. That was more of her style, having to always work light as an enforcer.

The spots faded from her vision, the room snapping into place with a sudden burst of clarity. The air rushed through her ears with a pop.

"I presume you are my Contractor?" His voice was thick and weary.

"I-I am," She touched her earring, briefly. "You are not Cú Chulainn." The earrings she wore belonged to Cú Chulainn, she should have been guaranteed to summon him with such a catalyst… so why?

"I am not," the servant replied without any inflection.

Bazett exhaled. That was… unfortunate… but there was nothing to be done about it now. She could figure out what went wrong and lament later. For now, she had to make do with what she had. "So you're an Assassin, I assume?"

He nodded his head slightly in response. It wasn't exactly that hard to guess. He was wearing black and his face was hidden under a mask. No one but an Assassin would ever be immortalized as a hooded figure.

"I'm Bazett," she offered her hand in greeting.

Her servant grunted in reply.

"Alright," Bazett patted the pockets of her suit, as if that was the gesture she had intended the entire time. "I need to go and register with the overseer, and then we'll scout out the area? I'm not familiar with Fuyuki, so it'll be good for us to get a lay of the land before the war truly begins."

"... No." Her Assassin spoke quietly, but there was no doubt in his words.

"No?" Bazett quirked an eyebrow at him. "What part of that do you not agree with?" She wasn't at all upset, just asking. This was a partnership– he wasn't the partner she desired, but she would make do.

"There is no value in registering your summoning with the overseer. It's a formality, not a requirement," Assassin explained in that same dry tone. "Don't give away information that could get you killed when you don't have to."

Bazett crossed her arms. "While I don't disagree, I already told Kirei I would visit him after and inform him of the outcome. He is the one who registered me as a Master and I trust him."

Her servant said nothing in response, just stared at her.

"Is something the matter?" Bazett asked

"This hotel room has pitiful defenses," Assassin changed the subject abruptly.

"That's by design," Bazett explained slowly. "I prefer to work light. I don't have the ability to set up any bounded fields that are actually impenetrable in Fuyuki, so I'd rather prioritize keeping my location hidden. If I'm found, I can either confront them or evacuate depending on the circumstances."

"You are correct about that," Assassin nodded the slightest bit. "But your defenses are still poor."

"Explain," Bazett demanded.

"You are caught between two extremes– hiding behind a fortress like a traditional magus, and forgoing magecraft to hide in plain sight. That is the most dangerous position that you can be in."

Bazett frowned, but didn't interrupt him.

"You either should turn this hotel into an impenetrable fortress, the whole block really, or you should tear down every defense you have. Right now, a Master will not suspect this hotel of housing a Master, but it does nothing to stop a Master who suspects. If they see me retreating to this hotel, or if there is a fight with a servant nearby they will find you."

"Or if a more diligent Master were to check all of the hotel's in Fuyuki's listings for mage families, and investigate each one. Right now, it would be trivial with your flimsy defenses for a Master to verify that another Master is located here, just by walking by your door. Setting up an ambush when you exit the hotel would be trivial. Or they could simply opt to destroy the whole hotel to eliminate a Master."

"Win the war through misdirection, and make it look like this is the last possible place a Master could be hiding. Let your fellow Masters walk through your room and not be able to detect any sign of your magecraft. Set up diversions, to make them walk into your traps and overlook where you actually are."

"You want me to peel down all of my bounded fields and masquerade as ordinary."

Assassin gave a slight nod in reply.

"It's not that I disagree," Bazett grit her teeth. "I've gone without a single bounded field on missions before– it's great for espionage. But it also carries too much risk, even when just chasing one opponent unaware of my existence. There will be six other Masters intent on hunting me down, I can't just go defenseless and hope they never catch onto where I am. The hybrid approach is the best course of action, even if it does carry more risk than previously thought."

"Who said anything about going defenseless, Master?"

Bazett still couldn't see his face, but she could have sworn that he was smiling.

She walked through the halls of the Vatican on legs so stiff that a stay breeze would topple her over. She didn't know how to feel. She had been summoned… of all people… To speak with the Cardinal. Not just any Cardinal, but the Cardinal.

Most would consider it an honor… When Cardinal Noi Seonator Granfatima had passed the request along to her, he had made clear to her that it was an honor he thought she didn't deserve. Cardinal Noi had warned the Cardinal not to choose her… but… here she was…

There was no chance that she was being honored… It was more likely that she was being excommunicated for heretical practices- for her lack of faith. For anything. There was exactly one reason that she had become an Executor. To get her vengeance against the Vampire who destroyed her life. They must have figured that out– and decided to cut ties.

She hadn't slept a wink on the flight here. And when she landed, a driver had been waiting to take her directly to the Vatican. They were in the middle of a hunt at the time, trying to finally take down Nrvnqsr Chaos. The entirety of the Burial Agency was working together for once to take part in the attempted assassination of one of the most dangerous Dead Apostle Ancestors there was.

But that hadn't stopped Cardinal Noi from bringing her aside when they first landed, and sending her back to the Vatican with a more important mission. They had no qualms about sending away the outcast of their cohort, even when they were about to face such a dangerous threat. And how could she blame them.

So instead she got to face, the only person more terrifying than a Dead Apostle Ancestor. The next pope, Cardinal Laurentis.

Her escort pushed the double doors open but made no move to follow her through them. Inside was an office, a surprisingly quaint thing. A cross was affixed to the wall, of a simple wooden make. The carpets were a royal purple, and the desk made of a study oak.

And sitting at the desk was not the hundred year old man she had been called to see. But a young man, no older than 25. He had short blond hair and sea green eyes. He was leaning back in the desk chair, his feet kicked up on the desk as he flipped through a book.

"E-excuse me," her voice was hoarse. Her throat, completely dry. "I'm here to see the Cardinal."

The young man looked up from the book he was reading and glanced over at her. "The Cardinal isn't here today." He returned to his book without sparing her another thought.

She sputtered incoherently at that. "Wh-what! But the Cardinal asked to see me…" her voice was whimper. Had she made some mistake somehow? Was this a prank of some sort and she was never wanted here? But then why had a driver been waiting for her at the airport?

"Oh you're that Executor," the young man commented dully as he turned the page of his book. "I'm meeting with you instead."

"But–"

"Laurentis doesn't have the time to waste on someone like you."

She flinched in response. "I'm sorry… but who are you… the Cardinal wanted to see me personally…" She had been so scared of meeting him, so nervous that she was being excommunicated… Yet, now that she was here… and not meeting with him? It was an insult. They never would have stood up her, like they were standing her up.

His eyes lazily rolled in her direction. "Speak up and show some spine girl, you're embarrassing."

She flushed in response, but stood up a bit straighter. This fucking jerk. "I asked who you are to say such a thing? The Cardinal asked for me. I'm not leaving without seeing him."

"Ha," the young man pretended to laugh. "That almost looked like you weren't going to piss yourself this time."

"Excuse me!?" She knew it wasn't at all appropriate in the Vatican, but she couldn't stop her frustration and nerves from boiling over.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," the young man sighed and set his book down. "I am Bartholomew Bestino. A bishop in the church."

She had never lost all color faster. "My apologies," she bowed low. This was not just some random arrogant seminarian like she had assumed. It was a bishop, and the Cardinal's son . "I was not aware–"

"Save it," Bartholomew cut her off. "I'm not in the mood to hear you beg right now. In fact, I don't want to hear your voice at all. If you say a single thing, I'll have you excommunicated."

She froze, affixed into place as her fear paralyzed her. "The Cardinal has a mission for you," Bartholomew explained. "Preparations for the Holy Grail War have begun in Fuyuki. Forty years ahead of schedule. You do know what that is, right?"

"...no," the word was a squeak, his threat of excommunication still hovering over the back of her neck.

Bartholomew groaned. "Of course, you don't. Kids these days, they never open a book." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. "Let me make this quick again. You can figure out the rest yourself. The Holy Grail War is a ritual conducted by Mages."

"Seven idiots are given seven Heroic Spirits, beings who are as powerful as most Dead Apostle Ancestors. Rather than use these tools for anything actually useful, they use them to fight each other in a battle to claim the ' Holy Grail'. Not the real thing obviously, but a useless counterfeit so they can achieve their artificial salvation and ascend to a higher plane than us mortals," his voice was irate, the scorn dripping from every word.

"They fight to the death, the winner claims the grail and gets true magic. At least that's the theory they have, nobody has ever won before. It's stupid, but frankly, the church shouldn't be involved in every stupid ritual the mages conduct." He shifted his eyes in her direction again. "Are you following me?"

She nodded, despite it being the furthest thing from the truth. She didn't know what a Heroic Spirit was, or why he was so concerned about this magecraft ritual. Yet alone, why he was telling her about it. But she was more scared of asking questions.

"That is the mage's theory, that the winner will see the face of God," he continued. "But it's still just a theory. The first ritual was conducted in 1814, and there has been one every sixty years since, to the exact day almost. It's a ritual with a high cost, and can only be conducted that often. They have yet to declare a winner of any of their prior wars, but instead hold a new one every sixty years."

"That is until now. There is a new ritual this year, I would hope you have the bare minimum competence required to realize what is off with that?"

She couldn't help but nod. "The first ritual was conducted in 1814… and that would mean the fourth would be 1994… but it's 2004."

"Exactly," Bartholomew grunted. "The church has assigned the highest ranking member of the clergy in Fuyuki as the overseer for every previous war, and has done so for this one as well. However, the last war ended in disaster. Every attempt at conducting the ritual has ended in the death of hundreds of normal people that got caught up in the crossfire. But the last one was the worst. A hotel bombing, a rogue servant, a serial killer, and a fire to put the cherry on the top of the shit sundae. It was one of the bloodiest rituals ever officially sanctioned by the Mage's Association."

"And it's one that was arranged by a Dead Apostle."

"What?" She couldn't help but gasp.

"That's right," Bartholomew finally kicked his feet off the desk and leaned forward. "The whole Grail War system was created by the Third, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg. And he had the audacity to name the ritual after one of our holiest artifacts as it murders thousands in the name of our Lord."

"The ritual was problematic, but ultimately inconsequential. If it was scheduled in forty years time, we likely would have let it proceed unimpeded. However, it was moved up for the first time which raised concern. And there are already irregularities in the preparation phases that further heighten that concern. Unusual spikes of magical energy coming from Fuyuki even compared to past Grail Wars. Previously unseen spirit origins."

"So you want me to be the overseer?" She guessed.

Bartholomew guffawed in response. "That is perhaps the funniest idea I've ever heard. You are the last person we would appoint as overseer. The only reason that you would be appointed as overseer, was if the church wanted Fuyuki wiped off the map entirely."

Her hands tightened into fists at her side, her jaw clenching, but she quashed her angry retort. She wouldn't be that bad, she could handle herself. She would show this arrogant brat. She was chosen by the Cardinal… for something… Apparently, not what she had assumed.

"The overseer of the previous Grail War was killed during the conflict. The overseer of this one, is his son, Kirei Kotomine. Our investigations into the fourth war showed that his father and him were both indebted to the Tohsaka's and far from impartial. The son is now the guardian of the current Tohsaka heir."

"And the son also happened to be a Master in the previous Grail War."

Bartholomew paused his narration, letting the words settle over her. "That created a rift in the church's leadership. Some of them wanted to break tradition and remove Kotomine from the position. Others thought it was nothing to be concerned about, and cited his excellent service as an executor. As they usually do, the church ended up choosing to do nothing in the end."

"Laurentis disagreed with their decision. So he opted to form a plan of his own to keep the overseer in check."

"You."

"Me?"

"You are the Cardinal's countermeasure to Kotomine. When the church initially got involved in the Grail War, it was because they wanted to confiscate the holy grail when the opportunity arrived. The problem is that said grail will not manifest until the war has concluded. So they have not got that opportunity and never will through an overseer."

"Which is why you will be joining the ritual as a Master. Summon a servant, and fight to win. If you win the grail, you are to contact me, and I'll send a team to extract it. Keep an eye on Kotomine, and anything that could lead to his excommunication, but do not directly challenge him or let him know you are there. You will die if you do so. Do not inform anyone you are from the church, in fact."

"You want me to participate… in a magecraft ritual? Don't I have to be a mage to do that?"

Bartholomew snorted. "Hardly. Anyone can be a Master, you just need to use a mage's blood in the heretical summoning ritual. We have some of that stored for you to use in the summoning already, just take it with you to Fuyuki."

She nodded her head. That… It was all so much. The Holy Grail War, beings on par with Dead Apostle Ancestors… One's strong enough to get revenge… And she was being sent in… She had so many questions… But one lingered louder than the rest.

"Why me?"

"The Cardinal claims that he heard the voice of God say that you needed to go to Fuyuki and become a heretic." Bartholomew's voice was dry, every single syllable laced with derision.

Her heart swelled. The Cardinal had really handpicked her… Believed in her potential… Or God did… Whichever, it was… she was finally the one chosen this time. Not her partner. But her… She was the one they were putting their faith in for something so important."

"But I would guess it's more practical than that." His words cut through her bliss like a hot knife through butter. "You are useless."

She flinched.

"Useless enough to be excommunicated when you fail and have no one care. Unknown enough to not arouse suspicion from Kotomine. Stupid enough to do something heretical because your superior asks for it. You are not afraid to get your hand dirty, unlike the rest of these louts, and that makes you an ideal choice. You won't hesitate to cross lines if needed to ensure victory. You are stupid enough to actually want the damm thing which is required to be a Master, but not brave enough to actually try to go against the Cardinal by claiming it for yourself. It makes you the perfect patsy when things go wrong."

For a moment, her confidence broke. Old anxieties cropping up, about how she would never compare to that monster. But she shook her head. His rude son might not believe in her. Might think she was just convenient… and maybe some of it was true. But the Cardinal had still chosen her. 

"You're wrong," she whispered. "I'm not going to fail. I'm going to participate in this Holy Grail War, and I'm going to win."

Sakura's feet felt like lead as she dragged her heels through the hall of Matou Manor. The girl smiling at her side did nothing to ease that impending feeling of dread, nor did the hollow words of comfort she had received.

"Master," her servant spoke softly. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" She smiled insipidly at Sakura.

Her feet turned to stone and anchored her in place. She turned towards her servant slowly, her back pain flaring up in response to the sudden movement. "I…" she swallowed heavily. "I am… This is what has to be done."

"If you insist, Master."

They resumed their walk, the only sound the clops of their footsteps as they tread over the worn down wood flooring. They were heading to the basement, a place that Sakura hated more than anywhere else… At least it wasn't to be tortured this time…

It was almost a daily occurrence for the last ten years that she went there to learn the Matou magecraft. By sitting in a pit full of worms, and having every inch of her skin covered by them. By having them tear into her flesh to pass information, and to drain off her excess magical energy that could otherwise be dangerous to her. She had to do this for her own good… It never made it feel pleasant though…

But this time she wasn't heading to the workshop to be submerged in the worm pit. She was heading there to meet with her brother… and to say goodbye to Rider.

"Master?" Her servant's voice was faint. 'Can I ask you something?"

No. "If you would like," Sakura replied instead.

"What would your wish be, if you were to win the Holy Grail?"

Sakura stumbled at the sudden question but kept on walking. "I'm not going to participate, so it doesn't matter."

"But if you were," Rider pushed. "What would you wish for if you fought instead of your brother?"

Sakura fell silent. A face flashed before her mind, and her heart constricted painfully. "I… I'm not sure… I just…"

"Yes, Master?" Rider encouraged her.

"I don't have a wish," Sakura repeated faintly. "I won't be participating."

Her servant pursed her lips. "There has to be something that you want. Something that would make you smile."

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, amber eyes smoldering as he looked at her. She sighed wistfully without meaning to.

"There is!" Her servant clapped her hands together gleefully. "Tell me, Master, what is it that makes you smile so?"

Sakura looked down at her feet, avoiding Rider's gaze.

"Ah." Rider made a noise of understanding. "Not something, but a special someone."

Sakura blushed.

"Is this truly what you want, Master?"

Sakura nodded hesitantly.

"Then that is what I shall wish for when I claim the Holy Grail!" Rider declared triumphantly. "For this person to love you as you love them so that they may bring you great happiness!"

Her words were sharper than any thorns. Her offer was that of a rose, one that she shouldn't have ever considered declining. But the bristles tore up her skin, and just made her heart ache all the more.

She was rejecting Rider. Casting her off, and sending her into the arms of her brother… but she even knowing that… was opting to give up her own desire to fulfill Sakura's. It was a selflessness so alien to Sakura, and yet so utterly familiar to her as well. The same response she hoped he would have…

And here Sakura was. Treating Rider like dirt, as some lesser. The girl willing to give up everything for her. An offer that she had never received before… And she didn't want it. Didn't want to deal with it. The burden of Rider's expectations. Of letting her down when she found out just how tainted Sakura was. When she spent time with her more charming brother.

Even Shirou preferred Shinji to her…

She would always just be his little sister…

"Why?" she choked out the one word. "Why… Why would you do that for me?"

Her servant met her with the same serenity as always. "Everyone should have a reason to smile, Master. You included. And that is what is most important to me now. Seeing your true smile."

Sakura didn't know how to reply to that, so she just nodded her head, and turned the corner, heading down the stairs slowly, pausing on every step with how shaky her gait had become.

"Master?"

She tried to ignore the voice of her servant. She didn't want to deal with her. Soon she would be free of her contract. She wouldn't have to deal with Rider or any of this again. She could just go back to being normal. To spending her days at Shirou's home helping him out. She could just forget about Rider.

"Do you honestly believe that this is the best course of action?" Rider wouldn't let her retreat.

Sakura glanced over at the face of her servant. Their lips were pressed into a fine line distorting her features. "It is," Sakura exhaled.

"You're mistaking the best for the easiest," Rider stated bluntly.

Sakura flinched.

"You want to not be involved, so whatever happens, you can claim woe is me. Look how I have suffered, take pity on me. But is that actually for the best? Or are you just too cowardly to recognize the truth of yourself?"

The turn was jarring. Her servant almost sounded hostile, after being so friendly before… It was comforting. She could deal with this version of Rider. "I have to do this. I can not be your Master, Rider."

"Why? Are you that afraid of your grandfather? Of your brother?" Rider pressed.

"Yes," Sakura admitted after a small pause. "I am terrified of my grandfather. I have to obey him. I'm sorry if it hurts you Rider, but I do not have a choice. That is my duty as a Matou."

"You do," Rider argued. "For the time being you are still my Master. You can order me to kill your grandfather with your Command Spell, and I would before they could even realize what was happening. Get your revenge."

Sakura tripped at her words, and only was saved from falling by Rider grabbing onto her arm, and holding her upright. The thought was… one she hadn't dared to consider before. For a moment… she let herself dream of the most demented fantasy her mind could conjure up. Of seeing that pit fill with black ichor that bubbled over and drowned all of those worms. Then reality came into focus with a sudden jolt.

She couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that. Her grandfather cared for her, in his own way. He wasn't like her old mother had been, and her brother wasn't her sister… but they were still her family now. The only one she had. She had to serve them. It was her duty as a Matou.

"I don't want that," she only sort of believed what she was saying."I don't hate him. He is doing what is best for our family," the words were carefully rehearsed. "He doesn't deserve to die for that."

Her servant pursed her lips together.

Sakura let out a sigh, thinking that was the end of it.

"Is your grandfather what you are most terrified of?"

"That's… it's unimportant."

"What about your brother? He is going to be my Master. He will steal me from you. Do you trust him with that power over you? Or will he abuse it like you have been?"

Sakura flinched. "I trust my brother… He deserves to be a Master…" She had already stolen his place as heir, and the magecraft that should have been his. The least she could do was give him what he wanted here. "He's not going to try to hurt me." …that badly. 

"He might not go after you," Rider conceded. "But is that what is most important to you…?" She smiled at Sakura, but this smile lacked the airiness of her prior ones. "Or is it that person who makes you smile?"

Sakura faltered. Shinji snarling at Shirou and forcing a mop into his hands. Shinji pushing Shirou up against a wall. Shinji demanding that Shirou quit the Archery Club because his burn was so unsightly. Shinji calling Shirou inferior… Shirou confronting Shinji about the bruise on her wrist once…

"If you give me to him, you will be powerless if Shinji were to order me to go after him . So would I."

The worms inside of Sakura that made up the disgusting creature that she was squirmed at the cutting remark. What if Shinji used his power that way… To hurt Shirou… She wished that she could say it was impossible… but it wasn't… It was even likely . Regardless of the fact that Shirou had no involvement in the Grail War. Shinji… he could get emotional … and especially when it regarded her Senpai.

"Rider," she whispered, almost without meaning to. "Please… please don't let Shinji hurt him."

"I can't promise you that. Not unless you are my Master."

Sakura looked down at her hands which were violently trembling. Three marks adorned the back of her palm, twisted into the shape of rose petals. They glowed a steady crimson, almost seeming to pulse in time with her thoughts.

"Rider, would you be willing to do something for me…?" She had to do this. For Shirou . She couldn't let him get caught in the crossfire… Even if that meant suffering in his place.

"Of course, Master," Rider agreed immediately.

She shared her plan with her servant as insane as it was. An act of rebellion. A betrayal to who she had been… But she had to… To save Shirou. Even if it meant saying goodbye. She could lose Rider, but she couldn't lose Shirou. She would be thrown in the worm pit for this, might not even be allowed to go to school tomorrow… Shinji would hit her… but… Shirou would survive. 

"If I can help my Master… No, if I can help my friend," Sakura's eyes watered at the admission of friendship… when she was casting her aside…

"Then I will gladly shed the last of my radiance and fall. Like a star, like a flower, like a fleeting dream. That is what a servant is and how I live."

"To make my Master smile."

Her servant's insipid smile was back. Sakura nodded slowly, every breath pained. "Then by my Command Spell…" The red mark on the back of her palm glowed, and then faded away as her body seized up and the command took effect, settling over the pair like a warm hug.

Her palm glowed again. "By my Command Spell Rider, I command you not to… not to return to my side…" Only one petal remained. Tears poured down her cheeks… but it was necessary.

Rider's eyes glowed for a moment, before returning to their normal blue. "Master…"

"What is it?" Sakura asked softly, hesitating to let go just yet, in spite of the command she had just given.

"Nothing… I just wanted to call you that, one final time."

Rider reached down and squeezed Sakura's hand gently. "Farewell Sakura, and take care. I promise I will show you your smile."

"Farewell Rider," Sakura whispered sadly, but it wasn't bitter.

And then she was gone.

The rest of the walk to the basement was a funeral march in everything but name. Her feet caught on every step. Her legs moved as if through water, thick and unyielding. Every instinct she had screamed to turn around, to run, to apologize, to take it all back—but she kept walking. It was the first time she had ever dared to defy her grandfather so openly. And she didn't regret it.

Even knowing what she faced on the other side of the door.

The door creaked open slowly. She stood in the entryway. Alone. The workshop was cold and abrasive as always. The scent of rot clung to the walls, completely unrelated to the age. And the sound was the worst part everytime, of those worms wriggling around, of their teeth gnawing on whatever they could find in her absence.

"Where is Rider?" Her grandfather's voice was oily and thick, slithering across the stones like one of the worms that composed his form.

Sakura didn't answer. She didn't have to. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, a child's imitation of defiance. A frail, pitiful thing, just like her. They both knew the answer to that question already. Not here.

"Foolish child," Zouken sighed. "You chose the worst possible time to grow a spine."

"What?" Shinji asked looking at his grandfather and then at her. His eyes traveled down to her hand, absent of two command spells. His eyes glowed.

"Where is my servant!?" Shinji's roar shook the room.

Sakura flinched reflexively, the thin glass pane of her resolve cracking under the weight of his anger. "Brother… I…"

The slap came faster than she could process. His palm cracked against her cheek, spinning her sideways and sending her sprawling onto the floor.

Her back slammed into the floor, the impact rattling down her spine to her whole body.

"You stupid bitch!" He was on her before she could move, before she could breathe, straddling her waist.

"You ruined everything!" His hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and yanked her upright—clumsy, almost desperate. His arms shook with rage as he slammed her back down without thought, more tantrum than tactic. Her head snapped against the floor again, the dull thud blurring her vision.

"I'm not going to have a Servant—" His arms shook with range sending her down into the ground then back up with a sudden jolt. Her head throbbed as it crashed into the wood floor.

He didn't seem to notice her pain. "I'm not going to fix my circuits—" He thrashed her against the ground again, as Sakura's vision spun.

"Because of you!" He sneered. "You! Betrayed! Me!"

She lay still beneath his hands, not fighting, not speaking, only flinching each time her body hit the floor. She cried every time she hit the ground, but it didn't change anything. The back of her skull pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. She could taste copper on her tongue.

He was right. She deserved this. She had chosen Shirou over Shinji. She had taken what little hope he had left and thrown it away. She had betrayed their family. This was what her betrayal earned.

And worse of all… She still didn't regret it… She really was disgusting.

It was only when Shinji's hands finally let go of her collar that Zouken stirred. "Enough, boy," the old man murmured, placing a hand on Shinji's shaking shoulder.

Shinji was panting, wild-eyed, sweat and spittle dripping down his face.

Zouken's voice was soft, almost amused. "While Sakura's sudden flight of rebellion is inconvenient, it is ultimately inconsequential."

"You will have your Servant in due time, my boy. We merely have to be... creative ."

A/N: 

I have no idea what it means in cannon when Bazett claims that Kirei offered her a position in the Grail War, or how he is able to do that when people like Shirou are supposedly just chosen at random. Can Kirei direct who is given Command Spells somehow? I chose to believe instead that he forcefully entered her by transferring Command Spells to her since he has so many. For whatever reason, he just lacks the ability to summon a servant and enter without stealing someone else's spot. Probably because he died in Zero. Is that cannon? Probably not, but that is what I am going with. It won't really come up much in the future, so if you're so offended by how wrong it is, I honestly don't care.

Sakura's portrayal is based off of a mix of cannon FSN Sakura, Miyuverse Sakura, Kama and CCC Sakura together. She is not the only character borrowing parts from other portrayals of them.

I would be shocked if people can't instantly identify who the church person is, and I also left far too many hints for Rider and Assassin. If you want to guess who masters/servants are, you can, but don't expect a reply to your comment, as I will be avoiding spoilers in the comment section unless you ask under the spoiler tag. If you want to DM me, you can do so on Twitter, Discord, FFN, or Gmail. On all platforms my handle is "AimenImpaired". I will spoil basically anything in DMs.

Chapter 3: Is it Wrong to Save a Life?

Previous Chapter Summary: Rin summoned her servant, but she started the ritual at the wrong time and got an uncooperative Archer who demanded that she deduced her servant's true name rather than him telling her. She eventually outed him as Christopher Columbus. Cardinal Laurentis sent a representative to Fuyuki to serve as a Master in the Grail War in an attempt to confiscate it. Bazett summoned the Assassin Class Servant. Sakura used two command spells on Rider in order to keep them away from Shinji.

"That is a good point Mr. Tsunokuma," Mr. Kuzuki allowed. "Can someone explain to me the flaws in Jeremy Bentham's utilitarian concept?"

"Ms. Sajyou?" The teacher called out when she raised her hand.

"The idea of utilitarianism requires us to believe that there is some objective way to measure utility. That one person's definition of the greater good, actually encapsulates the greater good. It requires us to be able to assign life values on a scale," she answered, her back slouched slightly as she leaned forward slightly to look at the teacher through wide rimmed glasses.

"But there is some objective standard," Shirou whispered, his voice rising slightly. "All lives matter. Saving a life can never be wrong!" He was shouting now, he noted idly, the tips of his ears burned a luminous red. He tried to relax in his seat and pretend the outburst never occurred, but he could feel all of their eyes on him.

"Does someone want to offer a rebuttal to Mr. Emiya's theory?" He rapped his baton against the desk. "Ms. Tohsaka, do try to stay awake. If you need a nap, lunch time is only ten minutes away."

Rin Tohsaka jolted upright in her chair, her face scarlet as every eye turned to her and a few of their classmates laughed. Mr. Kuzuki pinned Shinji Matou with a glare and they all fell silent, cowed into submission by their rather scary social studies teacher.

"Ms. Aizome?" Kuzuki called on his classmate. She had been sitting with her legs crossed, leaning back in her chair casually, hand resting on her chin. But when called upon, she glared at Shirou heatedly, her copper eyes full of so much malice that Shirou was taken aback. He didn't think they had ever even spoken before this.

"Some lives are much less valuable than others," she sneered in Shirou's direction. "Those of monsters and murders for example. They should not be allowed to live."

"They can still be saved," Shirou shot back. Everyone deserves salvation, I can't compromise on that. I promised.

"They don't deserve–" she snarled. A thwack of the teacher slamming his baton against the blackboard cut off her point.

"What the two of you are getting into now, is the ever controversial debate on if the death penalty should exist," Kuzuki explained. "While an incredibly emotional subject for a lot of people, please do try to remain civilized here. This is a classroom."

"Here in Japan, it's been legal for over eight hundred years and is often the promise for murder. A life for a life. Of course, if we follow that to its absolute end, it means that you also should be executing those administering the death penalty for killing for the same crime. And so the cycle continues," he continued.

"However fascinating this is, we will discuss this in more depth in another class. This also is not a rebuttal to what Mr. Emiya initially claimed, Ms. Aizome," He gave her a look that had her backing down immediately. "Mr. Emiya claimed that there is an objective standard for utilitarianism to be applied to. That human life is the ultimate value and our world should be shaped around valuing it as such. Does anyone understand why that thinking is flawed?"

About a dozen hands rose around the classroom. All of them failed to understand the most basic of principles. The sanctity of life. People needed to be saved, that was why Shirou Emiya existed. Why did they not feel the same?

"Mr. Ainsworth," Kuzuki called out. Julian Ainisworth was a quiet kid with messy black hair and deep sea blue eyes. He and Shirou had been good friends at one point, back in junior high and elementary. They were both orphans and had enjoyed each other's company. Until they didn't. Julian had just stopped seeking him out one day, and was even cold to Shirou. He had tried to bridge the gap once, but was brushed off and they hadn't spoken much since then.

"If the cost for one human to live is that three are crippled then could it be better that the one dies?" He posed. No. "If the cost for one human to live is that an entire forest is destroyed, is that justice?"

"You shouldn't have to choose," Shirou whispered under his breath. Simply help the person in front of you, save them, no matter the cost. That was the creed he lived his life by. What came after didn't matter, just what you did in the now. The forest could be saved by doing something other than killing someone. His father had tried to explain this to him once– that even if you saved all the hostages, the hostage taker would have to die, but Shirou had refused it then too.

Julian narrowed his eyes slightly as he continued. "If the cost to save a life is that a hundred end up in chains– made into slaves– would you suggest that we allow them to be put in chains for the sake of the one? Does the fulfillment of your life mean less than the fact that you are alive? If so, do we need free will– we would be safer without it."

"Well said, Mr. Ainsworth," Kuzuki cut them off before either could chime in again. "The problem with taking human lives as the highest value in the universe is that one either has to be a fool or a dictator. The best way to ensure that all humans live is by becoming a dictator, taking away the freedom of thought and forcing people to believe one thing alone.

"Taking away their ability to choose and their ability to desire above their station means that men have no cause for war. The only way to enforce world peace is to get rid of the borders between countries and unite them under one banner and one person's thumb. Even having it be a council would not allow that, as that would allow for one man's ambitions to bring unrest. You need absolute authoritarianism if you want to truly save all lives."

"We can see this in history," Kuzuki elaborated. "Qin-Shi Huang is perhaps the best example of the flaws and benefits of this type of philosophy of life above all else. Qin-Shi Huang was a conqueror and the first emperor of the nation we now know as China. By conquering the warring states, he brought them under his combined rule and ensured that no more wars would take unnecessary lives."

"Yet, he forced them under his boot regardless of what they wanted. He forced them to submit to his way of life and reject their own. He abolished the feudal system, and rebuilt the economy to ensure some measure of equality. But it only applied to everyone but him."

"Those things would be argued as good by the conventional lens of morality," Kuzuki tapped his baton against the blackboard. "But he also did things that are unquestionably evil to us. He destroyed the hundred schools of thought– including confucianism which is one of the predecessors to the modern popular ethical model. He burnt books and restricted creative expression. Every man was forced to live under the doctrine of legalism. No freedom of speech, no freedom of religion, no freedoms at all. All in the name of keeping the peace and saving lives."

He took a step forward, standing directly in front of Shirou's desk. "Tell me class, do you think that Qin Shi Huang was a hero or a tyrant? Or could he be both?"

The bell rang signaling the end of class and the start of their hour-long lunch period. "Your homework for today is to review the writings of Jeremy Bentham and assess the shortcomings of a utilitarian society. I expect two pages on it by next class. Dismissed."

Shirou watched through glazed eyes as the rest of his classmates eagerly fled out the door. He clenched his fists at his side. Why couldn't they see it? Why did they have to think compromise was okay? You just saved someone, it wasn't complicated. If you could help someone, you did. There was no need to think deeper, no need to compromise. That was the creed that made him Emiya Shirou.

"Fuck," he heard someone curse from beside him, and turned his head to the left. There was a girl bent over her backpack. He could see her bob of red hair bouncing around as she scavenged around, seeking something. He didn't need to see her face to know who it was.

Shirou stood up straight and reached out for the edge of his spine, tracing along its edge with his prana. He grit his teeth and formed a magic circuit. It was like jabbing a white hot steel rod into his spine. His nerves burned as their shape was altered to form the magic circuit. That was the cost of using magecraft. The pain made him want to cry out, but he bit his lip to hide his expression of agony. He let the circuit fade, the rod vanishing, although some of the pain still lingered.

"Mitsuzuri," Shirou called out, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Is something wrong? It had been a long time since Shirou had needed to do something like that– creating his circuits without cause. But that was Kuzuki's social studies class that unit– a unit on ethics and morality. One that constantly tried to call out his ideal as wrong. None of his classmates understood it, they were good people– but they didn't want to save everyone. And they laughed at the idea. Called it impossible.

It wasn't. Shirou would never accept it. He had to smile.

"Oh… Emiya," she sighed and stood up straight pulling her hands from her backpack to place them on her shapely hips. "I just forgot my bento at home."

Shirou smiled at her. "You can have mine," he offered immediately. Helping is never wrong. He could feel Kuzuki's eyes following them, the only other person in the classroom. He didn't say or do anything, just watched them with his black eyes and said nothing. The teacher was kind, even if cold, but something about him was unnerving to Shirou that he couldn't place his finger on.

"I'm not stealing your lunch, Shirou," she rolled her eyes at him.

"I can just get something from the café," Shirou volunteered.

"A bread roll is not a full meal," Mitsuzuri protested. "And if it was, I would just buy something myself."

Shirou reached into his bag and pulled out his bento, thrusting it out towards her. "Here, take it, I don't mind."

She reached out for the bento before retracting her hand and huffing at him. "Fine we'll share Emiya," She brushed past him and headed for the door. Shirou was quick to follow after her.

"We're not eating in the cafeteria," Mitsuzuri declared as they headed through the halls. "The last thing I want is for people to think we are dating just because we are sharing a meal."

Shirou turned away from her, flustered at her brash behavior. "Of course…"

She bumped her shoulder against his. "Actually… Do you think that Tohsaka would be jealous if we were dating?"

"Whaaa!?" Shirou exclaimed in shock, stumbling at her words. Rin Tohsaka was the school idol, the untouchable beauty that every guy wanted a chance with. The perfect straight-A honor roll student who had never missed a single day and always made sure to look her best. Although, she had fallen asleep in class today and been more spacey in general as of late.

While every guy except Issei Ryuudou that was. He was convinced that she was a witch who had bewitched everyone into liking her. Issei just didn't understand it. Everyone liked Rin because she was cute and intelligent.

Not that it was impossible that she was a witch– Shirou did know they existed, but he and everyone else liked Rin because of her charm, even if she was cold to them. If anything that enhanced her appeal as it made her appear untouchable in a way that no other girl had pulled off.

"Relax Shrou," Ayako snorted. "I was just messing with you. My standards are far higher than you could possibly hope to meet."

"Hey!" Shirou protested, only mildly offended.

"You might come close if you rejoined the archery club," Mitsuzuri teased with a laugh, her eyes crinkled on the corners.

"So Ms. Fujimura's classroom?" Shirou offered, ignoring her previous statement entirely. "She usually eats in the cafeteria but won't mind if we use it."

She shrugged, more than used to Shirou not rising to the bait. "Sure, that works well enough. Although, fair warning, I'm calling you a casanova who tried to seduce me and twelve other girls if she accuses me of trying to seduce her poor innocent Shirou again."

Shirou flushed. "Sorry about that–"

"It was years ago," Ayako waved his apology away. "I am more than over it, as mortifying as it was."

Shirou just pursed his lips. The incident had occurred shortly after Shirou quit the archery club. He had been there to clean up in the place of Shinji as the latter had a date that day and couldn't do it. Shirou had agreed to help his friend, and on that same day, Ayako had stayed late to get some extra practice in before the tournament the next day. They had talked for a while after Shirou did some cleaning, and then he had tripped on his shoelace.

The result had been her lying on the ground, with Shirou on top of her, their noses touching. Her skirt had ridden up with the fall exposing her thick thighs too. And that was when Fuji-nee had come bursting out from her office. She had not been happy to say the least.

She had accused Ayako of being a harlot, sure, but she had also been adamant that she raised Shirou better than that and how ashamed of himself he should be. It had taken her a long time to understand that it was honestly an accident. And even longer for her to stop giving them both a hard time about it, every time that she saw them. It was honestly a miracle that the whole school didn't know about that incident.

Shirou turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to her classroom without hesitation. Taiga Fujimura was his guardian, the closest thing he had to living family. She barged into his house without warning, often to demand food, and he knew he was welcome to do the same. He rarely did, not wanting to take advantage of her hospitality, but he didn't mind if it was to help someone else out.

He sent the bento down on a desk near the window and took a seat on one side. "Shit," Ayako cursed. "I'm going to run to the cafeteria and grab a set of chopsticks. I forgot about those."

"It's fine Ayako, I have a spare set," Shirou offered.

Ayako folded her arms over her chest, pressing down on her breasts, even as she took her seat. "And why do you have that?"

The actual answer was that Shirou was staying after school to work on some repairs for the student council and then had work. Given the inconsistency of his magecraft, the time that took could vary, and as such, Shirou had packed enough food to save half of it for later. And he hated using dirty chopsticks. But if he told Ayako that she would insist on eating less than a full serving so he had some for later.

"Just in case Fuji-nee steals mine again," Shirou settled on. It had only happened once, but it had been when they were both in the archery club so he didn't have to elaborate beyond that. She had decided to throw her chopsticks at Shinji after he made a crass joke. Left without chopsticks after that, she had stolen Shirou's out of his hand and forced Shirou to walk across the school to get more from the cafeteria. When he had returned, his bento had been shared by the rest of the archery club and he was left without.

"Fair enough," Ayako conceded. "Was Tohsaka really sleeping in class?" Ayako asked, her voice dropping to a whisper. "She sits behind me, so I couldn't exactly tell before Kuzuki snapped at her."

"I think so?" Shirou scratched the back of his head. "I wasn't paying much attention, but I didn't hear her pen scratching as she takes notes like normal." Rin sat directly to his left in Kuzuki's class, in the second row, and usually Shirou would glance at her a few times during class, but the current unit in their social studies class tended to leave him a little on edge.

Mitsuzuri narrowed her eyes at him slightly before shaking her head and reached for a rice ball. She bit into the onigiri and moaned in delight. "Fuck, Emiya, I forgot how good your cooking is."

Shirou smiled contritely. "Try the shogoyaki," he urged her.

"I will," Ayako vowed through her mouthful of food before pausing. She jabbed her chopstick in his direction. "You better eat too though. I'm not stealing your whole lunch, no matter how delicious it is."

"Of course," Shirou agreed as he took a rice ball for himself.

"I'm not sure what's going on with Tohsaka," Mitsuzuri confessed, biting her lip. "Sleeping in class? She got a B on the last test in math! I've tried to talk with her in the halls, but she just pushes past me. I'm worried that something is going on with her."

"I saw her in the library last night," Shirou confessed. "At seven while I was cleaning she was still there. I think she's just stressed with school work."

"Are we speaking of the same Rin Tohsaka?" Ayako scowled at him. "Since when has she ever needed to study? When has she ever gotten less than a perfect score? When has she even been in the library for that matter?"

Shirou held up his hands defensively. "You would know her better than me." But Shirou did know that Ayako was right about that. Rin had argued with the teacher for twenty minutes that the teacher was wrong and not her when she had gotten a single question wrong in language arts. And in the end, she was awarded a perfect score on that test. He had never seen her in the library either, and certainly not when he was making his janitorial rounds after everyone else had gone home.

"I'll check the library after archery practice," Ayako decided. "If she's still there then I'll force her to tell me what's going on."

"If she needs any help, I'm always willing," Shirou volunteered immediately.

"I wasn't aware the two of you were close," Ayako teased.

The tips of his ears burned red. "I just want to help–"

"I'll handle it, Emiya," Ayako dismissed him. "Thanks for offering."

"Of course," Shirou bowed his head.

"So how about you?" Ayako prodded between bites. "Are you surviving our ethics unit?"

Shirou groaned reflexively.

"That bad, huh?" She asked with a wry grin. "You really got worked up today."

Shirou winced. "I'm fine," he tried to dismiss her.

"Are you going to be able to handle the homework?" Ayaka probed. "You know…" Her grin was like that of a shark. "I could do it for you… If you join the archery club."

Shirou responded with a deadpan stare. "I'm not rejoining the archery club," Shirou repeated the same tired argument. "Besides I have work during practice time now."

Shirou had been a member of the club in his first year of school, but after an injury to his shoulder, he had been forced to drop it. And he never really went back, as he just didn't see the point in the club. Shirou had always been gifted with the bow.

The first time he picked up a bow had been when he went to an archery range with his best friend Shinji. It was towards the end of their first year of junior high, when Shinji had shared his favorite hobby with Shirou. That was the first time that Shirou had held a bow in his hands.

The first shot he ever took landed in the six point ring.

The second shot landed in the bullseye.

As did every subsequent shot.

The only times that Shrou had ever missed the target was when he tried to. Yet, when he tried to explain how he was so good at archery to anyone, they thought that he was mocking them. Just close your eyes and imagine the arrow hitting the target. Shinji had shoved him when he first told him that and became convinced that Shirou was hiding his experience. Ayako had taken it no better. Even Taiga had laughed and told him to just keep his secrets.

So Shirou had seen no point in continuing as part of the archery club. What was there to learn? What did it earn him but praise he didn't deserve and scorn from his friends? He still practiced with the bow on his own because he enjoyed it, but there was no value in winning medals to him. That time he spent practicing could be better used in helping people.

"You have a part time job?" Ayako laughed. "Did Emiya finally realize that he has to get paid for his help in order to survive? Should I warn Ryuudou that you're going to start charging for repairs?"

"I won't do that," Shirou shot her down immediately. "I don't like even taking pay from Otoko, but Fuji-nee didn't exactly give me a choice." At first, Shirou had been thrilled to help out, and even then hadn't minded the pay. But then he realized that the Hotaruzuka's weren't exactly flush with cash and sometimes struggled to pay him… And now he was hesitant– because he knew he helped, but he wasn't doing enough.

"Of course," Ayako rolled her eyes at him. "Nice to know someone can still get through your thick skull. So where is it that you work exactly? I might drop by some time to support you at your new job."

"Copenhagen– it's a liquor store." It also wasn't a new job– he had worked there since long before he joined the archery club, he just worked different hours now that he had more free time. Non-scheduled hours granted, Otoko was extremely flexible, just needing him to get his share done regularly enough. If he wanted to rejoin the club it would be no hassle at all.

"You drink Emiya?" She teased. "How naughty– addiction–"

"No." Shirou cut her off, his response firm. "I just do some manual labor stuff, I obviously don't actually sell the alcohol."

They fell into a somewhat comfortable silence after that, only undercut by the sounds of their eating. They were devouring the bento, her more so than him. There would clearly be none left over, not that Shirou minded. It was better if he went hungry if it meant that someone else didn't."

"Are you really still serious about the superhero thing?" Ayako blurted out suddenly, her words a jumbled mess.

Shirou lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Of course, I am. I want to save everyone and be a real hero of justice."

Ayako laughed and Shirou glared at her. He was being entirely serious, he didn't know how, but he would do it. That was the earnest wish of Shirou Emiya, the thing that gave him strength. Kiritsugu had pulled him from the fire before adopting him, and on that day he had smiled deep from the soul. He needed to be a Hero for that reason.

"I'm not laughing at you– while only sort of," Ayako apologized. "I was just thinking of how back in elementary we were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. I said an astronaut, Ainsworth said he wanted to solve climate change as some sort of scientist, Ryuudou said that he wanted to be a police officer of all things. But you, you said you wanted to be a superhero. And even when the teacher said they weren't real and it was impossible, you didn't change your mind."

"And now– years later, you still want to be one. I no longer want to be an astronaut and Ryuudou abhors violence now. I was just wondering if somehow you were the only one who hadn't given up on their dream as they grew up from that class."

Shirou flushed. "I'm sure I'm not the only one…" He wasn't sure if she was making fun of him or praising him but either way it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"So Emiya, how would you handle the trolley problem…" Ayako asked before snagging the final piece of the shogoyaki and dropping it in her mouth.

"I would save them both," Shirou stated simply.

"But how?" Ayako pushed.

"I would find a way to pull the lever to make the trolley take slightly longer to reach someone, and then untie that person and drag them off the tracks." That was the oversimplified form. Being asked about the trolley problem was common when someone told him of his dream, and so Shirou had actually given thought to solving the unrealistic hypothetical scenario.

The answer was magecraft. He could deliberately strengthen the ropes holding the people bound to the track to the point where they were overloaded and burst. If there was a driver able to pull the brake, he would also strengthen the brake on the trolley so that it would work quickly enough. And if that was impossible and the people lying on the tracks were unable to move themselves then he would simply forget about secrecy and stop the trolley himself with his magecraft.

Even if it killed him.

Shirou Emiya was only half a mage at best. His old man had taught him how to make a circuit and the basics of strengthening magecraft before he died. That along with structural analysis were the only things that he knew. And gradation air, he supposed, but that was considered entirely useless.

Even still, Shirou was bound to the laws of mages association, regardless of if he really took part in it. And while he knew very few of their rules, the one thing that Kiritsugu had made sure that he knew was the mandate that the moonlit world remain a secret. If people found out, then Shirou was supposed to kill them.

But still, if it came down to a choice between secrecy and saving lives… There wouldn't be much of a choice at all.

Ayako hummed, not really convinced, but not willing to push. "Your stubbornness is endearing Emiya," she decided. "This was fun. I don't think we've chatted like this since freshman year. It was nice. Maybe I should forget my lunch again tomorrow, just to do this again."

"It was nice speaking with you, Ayako," Shirou dipped his head.

"I meant for the food, not the company," Ayako replied with a laugh. Shirou joined her as they set to cleaning up from their lunch.

—

Bazett took a deep breath to calm herself as they approached the chapel. She knew Kirei, there was no reason to be so nervous. He wouldn't have entered her into the grail war if he had planned to do her harm. She couldn't let her servants' paranoia get to her. She had to just relax. There was no harm in registering with the overseer.

She had followed the rest of her servant's recommendations though. After learning who he was, she knew that she would be best off doing so. He wasn't the hero that Cú Chulainn was, nor was she as familiar with his story, but she knew that his success rate spoke for itself.

So they had arrived here in a rental car– one that she would return to the dealer on their way back to the hotel, before exchanging it out for a different one. She had worn a hood dragged up over her head, dark sunglasses, and a half mask to cover her mouth and chin. All to conceal her identity.

Her servant had pointed out the danger of this meaningless trip to her again this morning. She had meant to see Kirei yesterday, but they had delayed by prioritizing the defenses of the hotel first.

The church is a natural chokepoint. Every master who cares about tradition will head to the church to register, as you see the need to. A smart master would watch the church. Even if they don't attack the church itself, anyone who enters at an irregular time should be considered a prime master suspect. 

Her servant had argued rationally, and so she had listened. Following all of his suggestions to mask who was registering with the overseer from anyone but the overseer. And they would further take a very elongated path back to the hotel afterwards to duck any pursuers. And she had her servant here as well as her Fragarach. There was no risk in this visit even if they were ambushed the moment that they left the chapel.

She looked over her shoulder where she knew that her servant was lurking. "You have your task, make sure you are done by the time I come out."

Her servant merely answered with a nod, as always opting to remain silent when it wasn't to discuss strategy. He vanished from her sight.

Bazett inhaled sharply and pushed the doors of the chapel open.

It was quiet in here on a Wednesday evening, with no scheduled church events. The place was entirely empty, the lights dim, and candles lit on the altar. Bazett had worked with a number of churches over the years, and this was far from the most grand cathedral she had been in. Even still, there was something about the ambiance of it that made it feel special. Or perhaps that was the company.

As if himself summoned, the door to the back room opened and out stepped Kirei Kotomine. He was dressed in his typical attire, a dark blue cassock with all black underclothes. From his neck hung a golden cross, and she could just see the hint of a handle of three black keys sticking out to the inside of his cuff just above the wrist.

"Enforcer McRemitz," Kireii greeted her, his voice even and his face impassive.

"Executor Kotomine," Bazett returned, but she couldn't stop her lips from twitching.

"I'm assuming that you are here to register officially for the Holy Grail War?" Kirei asked without any preamble.

"I am," Bazett nodded and walked away from the door and towards him, her boost clacking with each step down the aisle. She sat down on a pew at the front of the chapel, and after a moment, Kirei came to join her on the pew.

"Were you successful in getting your desired servant?" He asked after a moment.

"I wasn't," Bazett confessed, but the corner of her lips turned upwards. "I summoned the Assassin instead."

Kirei pursed his lips. "I see… Are you satisfied with your servant? Do you think he is capable of winning this war?"

"He's not what I was expecting," Bazett conceded. "I doubt he will be able to keep up with any of the other servants in head to head combat… But his skillset fits well with mine. He can fight from a distance while I battle on the frontlines, between the two of us we won't lose. I am not upset with who I was given… Even if I had longed to meet Cú Chulainn."

And Bazett found that she almost meant it. Half the reason that she had agree to join the Grail War was to finally meet him– to have the chance to see him happy. But, she had faulted in that goal, and reality was much less kind. And as much as she wanted to meet Cú, her servant would likely be more useful to her. Not just during the Grail War, although she had no doubts that together they would be an unstoppable duo. But after. Learning from perhaps the killer most feared by mages would give her the tools to be much better equipped to carry out her job in the future.

Under his tutelage, it was even possible that she would be able to take down Scarred Red. One of just seven mages alive to earn a colored rank. And while she might not wield true magic as her sister did, she was still as close to it as anyone. Her dolls could supposedly recreate the soul so she was functionally immortal– and she had been branded with more sealing designations than anyone. Having had it revoked and reinstated three separate times.

That was Bazett's job as a Sealing Designation Enforcer. To hunt down the most dangerous of mages and bring them in alive, so that the Clocktower could imprison them and study their craft under the watchful eye of the Lords. To prevent the danger of spreading that knowledge around, and to stop mages from endangering the longevity of their craft. It wasn't always the most glamorous job, but it paid well and Bazett was one of the best at what she does.

There had been one time where she considered quitting though.

Kill me, she had begged her. So much blood that day. So much black ichor. So much death. The feel of her knife tearing through soft skin. Red eyes. She closed her eyes and shuddered involuntarily, even just thinking of it.

"McRemitz," Kirei had placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn't elaborate beyond that, but that was never his way. Kirei would speak only when he had actual advice to offer or wanted to uproot everything that she thought she knew. Other than that, he was a silent but steady companion. She relaxed, this was still her friend– she couldn't let Assassin's paranoia get to her.

"I'm fine," Bazett exhaled. "Just nervous, the Holy Grail War is a bit intimidating, you know?"

"I understand," Kirei nodded slowly, a slight smile on his face. He slid closer to her. "Is there anything you would like to know about the Holy Grail War while you are here? I can not give you any unfair advantages, but I am here to answer all of your questions."

"Am I the last master to register?" Bazett asked after a moment.

Kirei chuckled slightly, immediately seeing through the intent of her request. "You are the fourth master to come here and register," he answered without hesitation.

The three that had registered so far were almost certainly the Tohsaka, Makiri, and Einzbern representatives. The founding three families were guaranteed a representative in the Holy Grail War, and also often knew about it earlier than the others and as such summoned earlier to get their ideal class before it was taken. Especially when the Grail War happened forty years ahead of schedule this time around and had caught nearly everyone off guard.

That didn't mean that the information was useless though. Far from it. It was actually their preference that only the founding three had registered before them.

"And in this Grail War," Bazett asked slowly. "Can servants be summoned from any time period? Is there anything that makes it more likely for one to be summoned?"

"Theoretically yes," Kirei answered after a long pause. "As my mentor explained it to me years ago, any hero of significant renown can be summoned. And since time is a river, that servant could be from the past or the future. But, servants from the future would likely be weaker in the modern age, even if the conditions to form one could arise in today's world. They would lack any sort of fame bonus, and as such, they would be considerably weaker than their peers. There is no record in the church's archives of a servant being summoned from within the last five hundred years though– and certainly not from the future."

Bazett bit down on her lip to stop herself from giggling like a schoolgirl. Her expression turned hard. "What are the rules surrounding collateral damage?"

Kirei folded his hands in front of him. "The cleanup for any incidents will be handled by me," he explained. "Well it is obviously the preference of both the church and the mages association that there are none, that is beyond unrealistic. As long as you don't endanger the secrecy of magecraft, almost anything is permitted."

"However, there is still a limit," he warned. "In the last grail war, one of the masters was a serial killer who used his servant to mass murder random civilians without any purpose behind it. My father as the overseer offered an additional command spell to whoever took him down."

"The unofficial rule is that as long as any collateral damage serves to better your chances in winning the war, then it will be treated as fair play. Regardless of the extent of it. If they murder senselessly then as overseer, I'll seek to remove them from the war using any means necessary. And obviously the secrecy of magecraft as always trumps all."

"I see…" Bazett whispered, her face otherwise inscrutable.

"Bazett," his voice was uncharacteristically soft. "This won't be like Erlenbach."

She frowned. The reason they had become so close was that incident. Her first mission after that had been one to hunt down a Dead Apostle– and she was paired with Kirei as the church representative. Bazett had been despondent and struggling to cope with what she had done. But then Kirei had seen her struggles and asked if she wanted to confess. So she had. She wasn't religious, but she had needed to unburden herself and so she had with the one person who wouldn't ever tell anyone, as his vows to the church mandated that level of secrecy.

Bazett patted her hands against her slacks. "Thank you for your assistance, Overseer Kotomoine," her voice was overly formal and distant. "I should get going before my servant gets too worried."

"Bazett," He called after her as he rose from the pew as well. "While as overseer, I am not allowed to officially take sides, I hope that you will find God's favor upon you in the battles to come." He extended his hand towards her.

Bazett stared at her for a moment, her eyes wide and moist. Then she reached out to take his hand. He tugged lightly, as if to pull her close before thinking better of it and squeezing her hand hard.

She looked up at his eyes and found them hard, his mouth twisted into a grimace. He then let go of her hand suddenly and stepped back. "You servant is not allowed in here," his voice was as sharp as a knife.

Bazett stepped back and spun around to face her Assassin, standing there with his eyes as cold as ice as he glared at the priest. He was back to wearing his hood and mask he was summoned ini, rather than the more casual getup that he had been wearing before. He made no move to acknowledge her. "Assassin!" She snapped. "I told you to wait outside."

He still said nothing, his hand merely moving down to rest on the weapon at his hip.

Bazett scowled at him and turned back to Kirei. "My apologies, I didn't meant to–"

"I understand Enforcer McRemitz," Kirei cut her off. "However, be that as it may, you broke the rules. You will leave now or I will pursue further actions against you for the violation."

Bazett wiped a hand across her face, her fingers slightly hooked so they scratched her skin. "Of course, executor." She headed for the door, her footsteps heavy. "Come on Assassin!' She snapped, her temper flaring. It was only at that command that her servant finally receded from his staredown with Kirei.

The moment they were outside she whirled on her servant. "What the fuck was that?" She hissed, but it was loud as any yell.

"Not here," her servant answered simply brushing past her.

"You better have a hell of an explanation," Bazett scowled at him, but he didn't offer a reply so she followed after him obediently towards the rental car. He took the driver's side, and then they were on the road again, the silence eating away at her like acid.

"Are you ready to explain yet?" She pouted.

Her servant didn't look at her, keeping both hands on the steering wheel. "Kotomine intended to kill you."

Bazett stared at him for a moment and then barked out a laugh. "That's ridiculous! Why would you think that he would k-kill me?" Her voice hitched involuntarily at the thought.

"He had a black key clenched in his left fist when you went to shake his hand. He could hold your guard open and punch it through your stomach before you had the chance to even think."

Bazett wanted to deny it, wanted to claim that he was imagining things. That Kirei would never hurt her. And she honestly believed that– almost. But had she not wondered why Kirei had chosen her of all people to be a master in the Holy Grail War?

Kirei had never once shook her hand before today. That was not something that he did. That was why the gesture felt significant. He also had never referred to Bazett by just her first name before today– that was far too informal for their relationship, as much as Bazett had wished that it was deeper than that. That he considered her as much of a friend as she considered him… But…

He had tugged on her hand, just for a moment. But he had. He had tried to pull her closer, and if it was anyone but Kirei she might have thought it was for a hug.

She angrily swiped at her face and turned away from her servant so that he couldn't see the tears threatening to fall. "Why would he… If he did… He's supposed…" She couldn't articulate her thoughts. It was all so overwhelming. Had Kirei invited her to the Holy Grail War just to die? Did he hate her that much?

Her servant was silent for a long while. Perhaps he was struggling to find a reason as much as her, or perhaps he was actually considerate enough to spare her feelings. "I would imagine that he wanted to take your place in the Grail War," Assassin eventually settled on.

"Why?" Bazett whispered, her voice choked. "Why couldn't he just summon a servant himself?"

"I don't know," Assassin admitted. "But we will find out."

Bazett nodded stiffly. This she could handle, not the emotional mess. "Did you at least get the cameras set up along the perimeter?"

"I did," Assassin confirmed. "It took just five minutes so I headed into the church after that while under my presence concealment."

Presence Concealment was the exclusive skill of Assassin class servants. It allowed one to become invisible whenever they wished to and undetectable as well to most magecraft. The problem was that while invisible, they could not do much of anything but move around. Talking would break the illusion and cause them to be visible again. Attacking would break the illusion. Moving too quickly would break the illusion. It was good for spying and a single sneak attack, but it was from a combative ability.

It had still saved her life. "Thank you for that," she gritted her teeth. "Your decision to do so saved my life– but don't do it again. I gave you an order, and I expect you to follow it."

"I didn't go into the church because I feared that the overseer would attempt to murder you," he deliberately dodged her demand. She supposed that was the consequence of him having only worked solo in his life. "I went in to set up more cameras. I only had the time to plant three. Two in the sanctuary, and one in his office before I heard him mention Erlenbach and you looked ready to leave so I had to stop."

Bazett smiled for the first time since she was nearly assassinated. "Well done, Koyama. Shall we see exactly what Kirei is up to then?"

–

Shirou exhaled softly as he washed the dishes. It had been a long day and he had only gotten home at 21:00. Repairing the heaters after school had been especially difficult today, his magic circuit refusing to cooperate with him. He needed to be better. To stay focused and ignore the pain.

But Shirou was weak. He had faltered, and it had taken him nearly 20 minutes to form his circuit without letting it slip. When he finally got it formed, he had used structural analysis to find that the problem with the heater was that the wires were fraying. It should have taken three seconds for him to simply use strengthening and repair the heater.

Instead, he had overloaded the spell and as a result, he had snapped a half dozen wires. And all of them had to be replaced after that. Shirou was still handy enough with repairs, but it was certainly frustrating and time consuming– especially when the repair had been so easy.

How was he ever to be a hero if he couldn't even repair a heater with his magecraft consistently?

After he finally finished repairing the heater, he had to sprint to Copenhagen to get there in time to do the shift he had promised Otoko he would do last week so she could go to see a movie with her newest boyfriend. He had made it just two minutes before the shift started. Things hadn't been busy while she was gone, but that hadn't exactly made things easier. Instead, it had let him sit there and do nothing but some light cleaning. Helping nobody, while being unable to practice his craft.

And it really hadn't helped that Shirou was starving the entire time. Not that it really mattered, but it had made things a little harder to have missed the dinner he had prepared. Still, it's not like he could have done anything differently. Ayako needed the food more than he did.

Shirou had just finished dinner now, as the moon shone bright in the night sky overhead. He couldn't help but glance out the window as he worked, enjoying the sight. It was peaceful, serene.

It reminded him of his old man, of that night. The last time that they had spoken before he passed.

When I was a child, I wanted to be a hero of justice. Unfortunately, as you get older, the more you do, it becomes harder to call yourself that. Saving someone means not saving someone else, and there are a lot of people that I failed to save. 

I'll take your place. I'll make your dream come true. I'll save everyone for you. Like a real hero. 

I'm relieved. 

Kiritsugu had pulled Shirou into a half-hug and then given up his hold on life, slumping over and dying in the arms of his son.

"Am I doing it right?" Shirou whispered, staring up at the moon, forever unchanging as it was. He had wanted to be a hero for years, but he still didn't know what that really meant. And his old man had given him no hints in that regard either.

He knew that it was more than just helping people– that it couldn't be that simple, even if that was part of it. There had to be more than that to being a hero? But no one had answers to offer him. Once he had dreamed of being like someone from a comic book, wandering around and saving people with magecraft whenever they were put in danger.

But he couldn't do that. Not even just because it was illegal and would have him hunted by the Mage's association but because his magecraft was weak. In the ten years since Kiritsugu first told him about magecraft, he had yet to do anything useful beyond repairs with it. And it wasn't because of secrecy but because most of it was just incapable of being used to save people.

So how did one become a hero?"

Shirou sighed as he set the plate on the counter to dry. One day he would learn that answer, he swore it. He would succeed where Kiritsugu had failed and make his dream come true.

A knock sounded against the door just as Shirou was finishing off the last of the dishes. Shirou jolted at the sound and quickly made his way there. Who could be there for him at this time of night? Fuji-nee would not knock and Sakura would never come this late at night.

The knocking was heard again, whoever it was seemed to be impatient. He yanked the door open.

"Are you Shiroh Emiyah?" She asked, rolling the r in the back of her throat, due to her heavy french accent. Her hands were folded behind her back, as she leaned forward slightly, thrusting her chest the slightest bit in his direction.

He had never seen her before, Shirou was certain of that, he would have undoubtedly remembered if he had. She had soft blue eyes like the sky on a sunny day, and silver hair that went down to her hips. Right now she hadn't really stylized it, but instead let it hang free, although there was a white lily tucked behind her ear. She looked like royalty—soft features, elegant lines, the kind of face that you only saw on aristocrats. She was petite and incredibly cute.

Despite the chill outside, she was dressed like it was the middle of summer. She wore a miniskirt that barely covered half her thighs and stockings that reached past her knees, leaving plenty of flesh to tease him relentlessly.

Her blouse was a bit more conservative, but an equally odd fit for the winter. It was short sleeved, and white with buttons that made it almost look formal. It also was very thin and clearly not very warm. Despite that, the girl showed no signs of noticing the cold.

Shirou stared for a moment, as she shifted on the balls of her feet before remembering how to move his mouth. "I am… Do you need help with something?"

"I would like to live with you!" The strange girl declared with a beaming smile, practically bouncing up and down at the idea.

Shirou stared at her as if she had grown a second head… No, that would have made more sense. His mouth hung open. He might've caught a frog in it if he tried. He was hardly an expert on the matter, but he was pretty sure that cute girls didn't just ask teenage boys if they could live together. "Whaaa…" Shirou replied incoherently.

She frowned slightly. "Sorry, that might have come across poorly. I just arrived from Europe and am lacking a place to stay. A friend recommended that I ask you."

Shirou relaxed slightly. That made more sense. "Sure," he agreed immediately. "Do you have a name?"

"Aimée Dumas," She curtsied as she introduced herself, lifting her skirt even higher and showing more skin.

"Do you want to come inside?" Shirou offered.

She blinked at him once, and then again. "Did you really say yes that easily?"

"You needed help and I could offer it," Shirou's reasoning was that simple. It might have been different if someone else was living there with him, he might have been more wary of the potential danger of allowing a stranger into her home. But it was just him and she needed help, so he would take the risk for her.

"Huh, that was far too easy," Aimée exhaled, the words barely a whisper. She stepped closer to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for your hospitality," She then pushed past him and into his living room after discarding her shoes, her hips brushing against him as she walked past.

Shirou stood there for a moment, shocked into silence before remembering he had to breathe. His hand hovered, trembling slightly, over the place she kissed. She's French, that's their culture, Shirou tried to rationalize. It does not mean anything. Even so, it was the first time that a girl had kissed him and it made the skin tingle.

He stepped away from the door and shut the door behind them. He guided her to a pair of floor cushions, which they quickly claimed. She sat criss cross on hers, showing even more skin, and the slightest hint of her white panties. "I suppose you want an explanation?" She asked.

Focus Emiya. He jerked his eyes away. Too much skin. Way too much skin. Foreigners were certainly strange. "Only if you want to give one."

"You are a strange man, Shirou," she declared, her accent thick. "Sorry– I should be saying Emiya since we are in Japan."

"Either is fine," Shirou reassured her quickly. "If it makes you more comfortable to be informal then I have no issues."

"In that case, call me Aimée," she smiled at him, her eyes alight beneath her long lashes. She shifted slightly in her cushion. "Sakura recommended that I stay with you when I went to visit her."

"You know Sakura?" Shirou asked.

"Intimately," she teased. "I wanted to stay with her but she thought that her grandfather would not approve of her decisions."

Shirou nodded along. "I'm not surprised, Shinji always said that their grandfather was strict."

"Indeed," her voice was sharp. "It's a miracle Sakura ended up as kind as Rshe has, growing up with them. It must be the fact that she has such a kind and observant senpai to look out for her."

Shirou flushed and looked away. "You're giving me too much credit. She is just good," Shirou answered simply. "I'm lucky to have her as my kohai."

"You are," Aimée agreed before beaming at him again. "I am in your debt Shirou," she repeated. "I needed to get here quickly, and I'm afraid I didn't have time to plan any arrangements for my stay in Fuyuki if Sakura was unable to care for me."

Shirou frowned slightly. "Were you in some sort of danger back home?"

Aimée looked away from him and towards the doors to the patio. "My last place was not exactly a safe environment for a teenage girl to live in," she answered carefully. TheF edge in her voice made it clear that pressing for more details would be ill-advised.

"You don't ever have to go back," Shirou promised immediately. Shirou still didn't know how to be a hero, but this was more than just a favor or an occasional helping hand. This wasn't a simple repair, or service, but rescuing someone. Offering shelter to a refugee. He wouldn't let her go back to a home where she was hurt by those who were supposed to care for her. He didn't know her, but that didn't matter. If she needed saving, he would be the one to do it. That was what Kiritsugu had done for him– saved him from the fire and then the orphanage despite being strangers.

"You can stay here as long as you need, I have plenty of spare rooms," Shirou vowed with a smile, but it did not reach his eyes.

"My hero," She cooed. "I'm sure you've made the same offer to other girls in bad situations."

"I would," Shirou nodded. He knew that she was likely just teasing him, but being called a hero still made his heart soar.

"I see…" she whispered cryptically.

Shirou stood up. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

She held her hand out to him, and he stared at her for a moment before realizing what she wanted and offering his own hand to help her up. She took it gingerly and rose from the cushion slowly, the picture of grace.

When she was on her feet again, she smiled serenely at him. "Lead the way, Shirou."

"This is the living room," Shirou gestured at the room they were currently in.

Aimée giggled. "I never would have guessed."

His ears burned red and he forced a cough. "Just through there is the kitchen. I can make you your meals, but if you want a snack or something to drink, feel free to help yourself."

She looked around the room. "It's very clean," she noted, her expression one of pure joy. Shirou smiled. That was one thing that Shirou Emiya excelled at, and it was nice for it to be appreciated. Fuji-née would sooner complain that he was too organized and should try having more chaos.

He led her through the doors out on the walkway where the stars shone overhead from. "That is the dojo," Shirou pointed to the largest area. "And through here is the courtyard." She followed him dutifully as he pointed out the various buildings. "That one over there is the shed–" Shirou gestured towards the large white storage center with its blue roof. "Feel free to go anywhere else, but the shed is off limits."

The shed was the workshop of Shirou Emiya, just as it had once been the workshop of Kiritsugu Emiya. Kiritsugu had placed it under bounded fields when he was still full of life, to warn them of any intruders in his sacred space. A workshop was the place where a mage practiced his craft, a territory set aside for that purpose, and it was said that mysteries were easier there because the land was set aside. Shirou wasn't sure that was the case, but he still set the place apart. Most of that was more because Shirou needed a place to practice though and magecraft had to remain a secret.

Aimée stared at the shed for a moment, her brow creasing but then the tension was gone. "Of course," she cheered. "Every man needs a place to themselves."

It felt like there was some hidden meaning he was missing there, but Shirou let it slide. He moved on to show her all of the bedrooms and the two bathrooms. There were nine rooms currently unoccupied, with Shirou the only other resident of the Emiya family home. Now they were back in the living room, seated on the cushions. "Do you have a preference on which room you want?"

She paused, shifting her legs under her slightly. "Which one was yours?"

"Left hand side, in the middle. It's right next to the master bedroom." It had been five years since Kiritsugu died, but Shirou had never bothered to move into the master. That was his father's room and Shirou didn't really need the extra space. He had his tatami mat and a small desk, anything else was excessive. He liked his room plain and bare.

She hummed softly, the sound melodic. "I think I'll take a room on the other side then. Probably the second bedroom, I liked the closet in that one."

"Do you need help getting situated?" Shirou asked.

"I can handle it myself," she laughed. "I am also quite tired, so I think I'll head to bed now."

"Of course," Shirou bowed his head. "Goodnight, Aimée."

She rose to her knees and leaned over to press another kiss to his cheek. "Thank you again for letting me stay with you. I shudder to think of the alternative."

"I'm happy to–" his statement was cut off by a loud yawn coming from his lips. A wave of fatigue crashed over him suddenly. He hadn't realized he was that exhausted. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and avoided her eyes. "I guess I'll head to bed too. If you need anything, feel free to wake me up though."

"I think I can manage for one night," Aimée called after him, her voice sweet as they went their separate ways. Shirou staggered through the hall, his feet unsteady as he made his way to his room. How had he missed how tired he was? Was it just the elation of getting to save help someone that had him so full of energy earlier?

He pushed the door open and flopped down on his tatami mat. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.