The wards around Ryūdō Temple thrummed like a living thing.
Shirou stood in the courtyard, the winter air sharp in his lungs, the moonlight silvering the frost on the stones. Medea was beside him, her hood drawn up, her staff in hand. The Grail's call had gone out hours ago — a pulse of mana that every magus in Fuyuki would have felt. The War had begun.
And tonight, he would summon his second Servant.
The circle was already drawn: a perfect lattice of runes and sigils, reinforced with Medea's own enchantments. At its center, a relic — a fragment of scabbard, golden and faintly warm to the touch. Avalon.
Shirou stepped into the circle, his circuits flaring to life. The words came easily; he'd known them for years, in another life.
"I hereby swear… that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all evil in the world. From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance—!"
Light roared up around him, a column of gold and white that split the night. The air cracked, the ground shuddered. And then she was there.
Armor gleaming, blonde hair catching the moonlight, eyes the clear green of a spring morning. Saber.
She looked at him, gaze steady. "I ask of you — are you my Master?"
Shirou met her eyes. "Yes. And we have work to do."
The wards shivered.
Medea's head snapped up. "We're not alone."
Shirou felt it too — mana signatures, multiple, closing fast. The first night was never quiet; the others would be hunting, testing, measuring. And the light of Saber's summoning had been a beacon.
Figures emerged from the treeline. Archer, bow in hand, Rin at his side. Across the courtyard, a ripple in the air resolved into Lancer, his crimson spear catching the moonlight, Kirei Kotomine watching from the shadows. And above, on the temple wall, a golden ripple opened — the Gate of Babylon — and Gilgamesh stepped through, smiling like a man who'd just found a new toy.
"Already gathering, I see," he drawled. "How convenient."
The air was taut, every Servant measuring the others. Medea moved to Shirou's flank, her staff raised, wards blooming around them in layers of violet light. Saber stepped forward, her sword invisible but her stance radiating lethal intent.
Rin's eyes flicked from Medea to Saber. "Two Servants? That's… cheating."
"Efficient," Shirou corrected.
Lancer grinned. "Doesn't matter. I'll take either of them."
Gilgamesh laughed softly. "No, mongrel. You'll stand aside. These two are mine."
The first shot came from Archer — a mana‑charged arrow that screamed through the air toward Shirou. Saber was already moving, the arrow shattering against invisible steel. Lancer lunged for Medea, only to be driven back by a wall of searing light from her staff.
And then the courtyard erupted.
Saber met Lancer in a clash of speed and steel, her invisible blade ringing against his crimson spear. Sparks lit the night as they traded blows, each strike a blur too fast for mortal eyes. Medea wove barriers and counterspells, deflecting Archer's arrows and forcing him to reposition.
Shirou moved through it all like a shadow, reinforcing his body, projecting blades to intercept stray attacks. He wasn't the Raven tonight — no armor, no theatrics — but the precision was still there, honed now by weeks of Medea's training.
Gilgamesh watched for a moment, amused, then lazily drew a sword from his treasury and hurled it. Shirou caught the glint, projected Miyamoto Iori's swords, and met the golden blade in mid‑air, the impact rattling his bones.
"You dare," Gilgamesh said, his smile widening.
"Try me," Shirou shot back.
The fight spiraled outward, into the temple grounds. Medea's illusions split Saber into three, forcing Lancer to guess which was real. Archer took the high ground, only to be driven off by a barrage of conjured chains from Medea's staff. Gilgamesh opened more portals, treasures spilling forth like a storm.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it broke.
A flare of mana from the city — massive, unmistakable. Another Servant entering the field. The Grail's voice in every magus's mind: Rider has been summoned.
The combatants pulled back, each calculating the odds. No one wanted to be caught here when a fresh player arrived.
Gilgamesh stepped back into his portal, his laughter echoing. "Another night, mongrels."
Lancer vanished in a blur, Kirei's shadow following. Archer and Rin melted into the trees.
Silence returned, broken only by the wind.
Saber lowered her sword, her eyes still sharp. "That was… unexpected."
"Welcome to the War," Shirou said.
Medea joined them, her hood falling back. "We held our ground. But they'll be back."
Shirou looked out over the dark city, the lights of Fuyuki glittering below. The War had begun, and the first night had already drawn blood — not in wounds, but in intent. Every faction had measured the others. Every Master had seen the shape of the battlefield.
And he had two Servants at his side.
"Then we'll be ready," he said.
The Day After
The winter sun was pale over Fuyuki, its light doing nothing to warm the city. The first night of the Fifth Holy Grail War had ended without a clear victor, but the ripples were already spreading.
Ryūdō Temple – Morning
Shirou woke to the sound of wooden practice swords clashing in the courtyard. Sliding the shōji open, he found Saber and Medea facing each other — not in open hostility, but in a measured exchange of blows and spells. Saber's invisible blade struck against a shimmering barrier; Medea's counter‑hex fizzled against Saber's armor.
They broke apart as he approached.
"You're both up early," he said.
Saber inclined her head. "A warrior must be ready at all hours."
Medea's smile was faint. "And a magus must know her allies' limits."
Shirou looked between them. "Then let's make sure we're not just allies, but a team."
Saber's gaze was steady. "Trust is earned, Master."
He nodded. "Then I'll earn it."
Tōsaka Residence
Rin sat at her desk, a map of Fuyuki spread before her, pins marking known and suspected Servant sightings. Archer leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"Two Servants," Rin muttered. "Saber and Caster. That's not supposed to be possible."
"It's not," Archer said. "Not without exceptional mana capacity."
Rin tapped the map. "Which means he's dangerous. And it means we can't let him dictate the pace of this War."
Archer's mouth quirked. "So what's the plan?"
"We watch him," Rin said. "We learn how he fights with both. And when the time comes, we separate them. Take one off the board, and the other will fall."
Fuyuki Church
Kirei Kotomine stood at the altar, hands folded in mock prayer. Lancer lounged nearby, his spear resting against his shoulder.
"Two Servants," Lancer said. "That's cheating."
Kirei's smile was thin. "It's… unconventional. But it will make the War more interesting."
"You want me to take one of them out?"
"Not yet," Kirei said. "Let them draw the others' attention. We'll strike when the field is… cleaner."
Einzbern Castle
Illyasviel sat in a high‑backed chair, a blanket over her lap. Berserker stood behind her, silent as stone.
"He has two Servants," she said, her voice almost sing‑song. "That's greedy."
Berserker said nothing.
Illya's smile was sweet and sharp. "We'll just have to take them both."
Miyama Apartment – Rider's Master
The Magus Association's Rider‑Master — a tall man with silver hair and a cold gaze — sat at a small table, a cup of coffee in his hand. Rider stood at the window, her eyes on the city.
"Two Servants," he said. "That complicates things."
Rider's voice was calm. "Then we remove the weaker one first."
Downtown Rooftop – Gilgamesh
Gilgamesh stood with his hands in his pockets, the city sprawling beneath him. His crimson eyes gleamed.
"A mongrel with two hounds," he murmured. "How quaint."
He smiled. "I'll take them both. In time."
Ryūdō Temple – Evening
The day passed in quiet preparation. Medea worked on reinforcing the outer wards, her hands weaving sigils in the air. Saber patrolled the temple grounds, her movements precise and disciplined.
Shirou split his time between them — sparring with Saber in the courtyard, discussing strategy with Medea in the hall. He could feel the tension between the two women, unspoken but present. Medea's glances at Saber were cool, assessing; Saber's at Medea were wary.
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Shirou found Saber standing at the edge of the temple steps, looking out over the city.
"You're still not sure about me," he said.
She didn't look at him. "You fight like someone who has seen too much. And you carry yourself like someone who expects to be betrayed."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I've earned that."
She turned to face him. "If we are to fight together, I need to know your cause. Not just that you want to win — why."
He met her gaze. "Because I've seen what happens when the wrong person wins. And I won't let that happen here."
Something in her eyes softened, just slightly. "Then we will see if your actions match your words."
Later, in the main hall, Medea handed him a scroll covered in runes. "This will mask your mana signature for short periods. Useful if you need to move through the city without drawing attention."
He took it, their fingers brushing. "Thanks."
Her smile was small but genuine. "Just… don't get yourself killed trying to impress her."
He looked at her, surprised. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
"I think," she said, "that you're trying to be the man you want her to see. Just remember — you don't have to stop being the man I already see."
The War had only just begun, but the lines were already being drawn. Every faction was watching him now. Every Master was recalculating their plans. And in the middle of it all, Shirou was walking a line between two Servants — one who had already chosen to stand with him, and one whose trust he still had to earn.
The next move would be his.