Fuyuki – Miyama Town, the Path
A delicate morning light spilled gently over the old street, painting roof tiles and cobblestones alike in a faint, golden hue. The early breeze drifted through, carrying the soft scent of the forest and a whisper of flowers.
Along the stone-paved path, two figures walked side by side—the faint clink of steel boots echoing through the quiet of dawn. Their lighthearted chuckles, slipping into the stillness, only made the peace of the moment feel like something straight out of a painting.
The black-haired young man was Zoth Vari-El. The blonde-haired maiden walking beside him, a gentle smile blooming on her lips, was none other than Jeanne d'Arc.
They talked as they went, Zoth leading the way, pointing out various landmarks in the town. His explanations were careful and thorough, as though he wanted Jeanne to remember every inch of this land. Suddenly, as if recalling something, he stopped, turned toward her, and rubbed his chin with a slightly suspicious look.
"By the way, Jeannette… how did you even know I was down south in Miyama? Care to enlighten me?"
Jeanne only shook her head slightly. Hugging the banner close to her, she gazed straight at Zoth, her clear eyes unshaken, her smile as soft as a spring breeze.
"That? Well… honestly, it was just coincidence. I headed south to check on the Masters in the area, and… who knew I'd find you there."
Zoth froze for a heartbeat. His faint smile seemed to stiffen, his gaze shifting into something unreadable. For a few short seconds, his eyes flared orange—then faded again.
Lifting a hand to his forehead, he rubbed at his eyes with a look that was equal parts helpless and amused.
"Ah… I get it now. This is one of your hints again, Jeannette."
"A hint? Well… if that's the case, I'm not exactly surprised." Jeanne tilted her head, glancing at him with an expression that was part teasing, part probing. "But… Zoth, can I ask—what exactly is your current… condition?"
Her voice turned serious. She could feel the flow of magic around him—too steady, too alive. Not at all like a Servant. Not like what he was supposed to be. Back then, they had left this world together… yet here he stood before her—not a spirit, not a summoned Heroic Spirit, but a living, breathing human being.
Zoth, catching her tone, didn't bother to hide anything. Folding his arms, he nodded gravely.
"Ah… that's simple. I've been reborn."
"Reborn?!" Jeanne flinched, taking half a step back. Her eyes widened, locking on to him as if she could drill through to his very soul. Reborn? How? What had he done…?
A flood of possibilities crashed through her mind—taboo rites, heretical resurrection, pacts with forbidden beings, sealing a soul into cursed tomes…
Her face drained of color. Panic flashing in her eyes, she strode right up to Zoth, gripping his shoulders tight and shaking him hard. Her voice trembled with fear:
"Don't tell me you've gone and done something blasphemous again! Tell me the truth—how did you come back to life?! And don't you dare say you used those creepy soul-trapping books again!!"
Zoth's head lolled side to side with every shake, his vision spinning as he stammered:
"C-Calm down! Slow… down… This is old news! Remember when I said I was going to deal with the True Ether problem? That's when I made an artificial body with a special Mystic Code to stop magical erosion—then tossed it into Akasha. That's why I… Ugh—stop shaking me! I'm gonna hurl…"
Jeanne froze mid-motion, realizing she had lost control. She quickly stepped back, hands clasped at her chest, her head dipping slightly. Her cheeks flushed as she spoke softly, her voice full of apology:
"I'm sorry… I overstepped."
Zoth shook his head and waved it off, his tone lightening again.
"Nah… it's fine. Anyway, we're almost there—let's go. We still have time to catch breakfast."
And just like that, he seemed to forget the dizziness entirely, snapping back to his usual energy. Smiling as bright as the morning sun, he gently took the holy banner from Jeanne's hands to ease her burden. Then, without warning, his other hand closed warmly around hers, pulling her along like a mischievous child as he broke into a run toward the mansion ahead.
The morning wind brushed past, teasing Jeanne's hair with every step. She blinked in mild surprise—but in the end, she simply let him lead her. Not because she couldn't resist… but because she didn't want to let go.
Her lips curved into a smile—a bittersweet yet gentle one—her gaze lingering on Zoth's back, as though he carried the sun itself in his heart.
"It's so good… to see this side of you again, Zoth…" she whispered, her voice light as the breeze, yet brimming with sincerity.
"At last… I can see that carefree, joyful Zoth… just like in the old days…"
---
Fuyuki – Miyama Town, Emiya Residence
Zoth's steps today were unlike his usual sluggish, lifeless shuffle. Instead of dragging himself along like he had all the time in the world, he strode toward the front gate with a burst of energy. Pointing at it, his voice rang with both pride and formality:
"Here we are! This is where I've been… uh… temporarily staying for the past six years or so. Come on, let's go in! Make yourself at home—like you're in Domrémy!"
Jeanne lifted her head to take in the sight of the traditional house. A light breeze stirred her golden hair. She turned toward Zoth, about to ask him something, but stopped short when she saw him several paces away, stretching his neck and shoulders as if warming up for a competition. She tilted her head, puzzled, about to speak—
—when he suddenly charged straight at the gate, leapt into the air, and unleashed a devastating dropkick!
BAM—!!
The heavy main gate burst open, slammed against the inner wall, and shattered into splinters. Dust billowed up from deep inside the house as two figures came running out in alarm—one with long, flowing black hair like a waterfall, the other with shimmering sea-blue hair that swayed as she moved.
"What happened? Who just busted down the main gate?!"
"Ah?! Shirou's gonna have to pay for repairs again… poor guy."
As the dust began to settle, the culprits stood revealed at the wreckage—Zoth and Jeanne.
Jeanne could only offer a stiff, awkward smile in place of an explanation. Zoth, on the other hand, leaned casually against the now-bent doorframe, one hand propping his head up, lazily swaying it side to side as if nothing had happened, and drawled:
"Ding-dong~ Hey you two, been waiting long~?"
Shinji sighed and shook his head in weary resignation. Without even looking surprised, he shrugged and walked back inside, muttering:
"As expected of Sensei… nothing surprising here…"
"Eh? Zoth-nii? Why did you break the door? Did you forget your key or something?" Sakura tilted her head, her voice a mix of disbelief and helplessness.
"Oh… that? Dropped it somewhere, couldn't be bothered to look for it, so… figured this was quicker!"
Sakura was at a loss for words, smiling wryly before stepping aside and gesturing them in:
"Zoth-nii, come inside… breakfast is ready."
"Ok~! Come on, Jeannette, let's go! Like I said, make yourself at home."
Jeanne followed, bowing her head politely toward Sakura.
"My apologies—his impulsiveness has surely caused you no small trouble over the years. I apologize on his behalf."
"Ah, it's fine… just… may I ask the lady's name?" Sakura returned the bow with a smile, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
Zoth cut in, full of pride, arms crossed over his chest:
"Oh, her? She's my 'friends', Jeanne d'Arc. Impressed?"
"Eh?! Jeanne d'Arc? The Saint Jeanne d'Arc… for real?!" Sakura's eyes went wide in shock.
"Yup, but enough of that—let's eat breakfast! We'll talk later!"
Grinning, Zoth moved to help Jeanne set her holy banner in the corner of the room before strolling leisurely toward the living room.
Jeanne removed her steel sabatons, setting them neatly to the side, and stepped inside with quiet grace. Sakura gave her head a small shake, finally shaking off her astonishment, and followed them in.
---
In the Living Room
The sound of clinking bowls and chopsticks filled the air. The atmosphere… how to put it… was both awkward and uneasy. Zoth and everyone else seemed frozen in place, their eyes inevitably drawn toward the "tyrant lizard head" at the corner of the table devouring dish after dish with the ferocity of a warrior on the battlefield—none other than Artoria Pendragon, Servant of the Saber class.
Zoth set his own bowl and chopsticks down, his gaze never leaving the sight before him. He drew in a deep breath, his voice tinged with genuine admiration:
"Honestly, I haven't taken a single bite yet, but watching you eat like that… I feel full already, Saber."
The ahoge on Artoria's head stood on end like a reflex. She glanced at him, brows knitting slightly, then swallowed her mouthful and dabbed at her lips with a napkin.
"I didn't expect to run into you here… Ruler. And… what scheme are you plotting this time?"
"Hey! Do I really look that much like a villain to you?! …Anyway, forget it. I'm not planning on meddling in your business this time. This Holy Grail War already has a Ruler, after all."
At that, Artoria's eyes slowly drifted toward the woman sitting next to her—a face identical to her own. No wonder the Caster had mistaken them at first.
Jeanne quietly continued her meal, movements modest and delicate, taking each bite with care. But it wasn't her refined table manners that drew attention—it was the fact that the man beside her kept piling her plate with food, so much so that… no one else dared reach for the dishes.
"Come on, Jeannette! Eat up. Back in France you barely ate anything—now that you're in this era, you've gotta enjoy it properly."
Zoth—at this point, he looked every bit the full-time simp. Every delicious dish ended up in Jeanne's bowl, and his smile said plainly that watching her eat was all the satisfaction he needed.
The tension in the air quickly morphed into… secondhand embarrassment. The meal began to take on a very noticeable "sour" tang, mixed with an overly cloying sweetness.
Shinji quietly set his chopsticks down, rubbing his temples as he murmured under his breath:
"Sigh… Sensei is really something else… I wonder how Lady Jeanne ever put up with that 'overbearing care' of his back in the day."
In the midst of his devoted service, Zoth suddenly realized that two people were missing from the table—Taiga and Shirou. He turned to Shinji and Sakura, brow slightly raised in curiosity:
"Hey, Shinji, Sakura… where's that brat Shirou? And that tigress Taiga… Without those two, this place is boring. No one for me to mess with."
Shinji glanced at Artoria, then quickly covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Shirou… worked himself to the point of collapse. Spent the whole night cooking for the Legendary King Arthur over there, and ended up keeling over. As for Taiga, she went back to school, and she's getting permission for Shirou to take the day off."
Zoth nodded slowly, arms crossed, his face taking on the look of a man who had just grasped some great truth:
"Alright, then we finish eating and head to school. Shirou can stay with Saber. I'll take Jeannette out to buy some modern clothes."
Jeanne quickly waved her hands, her voice tinged with urgency:
"Ah, Zoth… there's no need for that. It would only waste your funds. Please don't spend unnecessarily."
"Huh? No way. You're here now, you're gonna try it. You're gonna be staying for a while, and I don't want you wearing just your Servant battle attire the whole time. You have to try modern clothes too!"
"But—"
"Nope! My mind's made up! That's that! Now eat, eat!"
---
Inside a neat, tidy room
Beneath the warm blanket lay a red-haired figure, breathing softly—Shirou.
Sweat dotted his forehead, each drop sliding down his temple. His face twisted, as if struggling against something unseen. Suddenly, he jolted upright, shouting in alarm:
"Just who are you?!"
His eyes darted around. It was his familiar room. Shirou raised a hand to his forehead, breathing heavily, the cold scent of the dream still clinging to him. Pressing his fingers against his temple, he tried to recall the blurry images he had just experienced.
In the dream… there was a desolate scene.
Countless Kamen Riders charged forward together, attacking a figure clad in black-and-red Rider armor. From the sides of his helmet grew antler-like horns, wrapped in golden rings. With a single sweep of his hand, he conjured countless clones. Behind him stood a black tower stretching into the clouds, and at its peak, a black sword stabbed into it—radiating a crushing pressure that threatened to shatter space itself.
The dream abruptly dissolved into darkness. Shirou found himself swept into another place. This place… felt both strangely familiar and eerily different.
He wandered through the dreamscape until a solitary bookstore appeared before him, perched atop a small hill.
Its white walls were weathered, with patches covered in creeping green vines. A red tiled roof crowned it, and by the door hung a small sign:
Fantastic Bookstore Kamiyama.
For reasons he couldn't explain, the place gave him a deep sense of nostalgia. Shirou gently pushed the door open, peeking inside. No one was there. He stepped in fully, voice lowered:
"Sorry for intruding…"
Inside, there was nothing but books—shelves upon shelves of them.
Right in front of the counter stood a meticulously crafted fantasy-style terrain model. All around, tightly packed shelves brimmed with stories. Shirou walked closer, idly pulling out a book and flipping it open.
Suddenly—
A deep, gentle male voice spoke from behind:
"Hajimemashite… successor of the Flaming Sword. Forgive me for bringing you here uninvited. Allow me to introduce myself… I am Kamiyama Touma, an author. A pleasure to meet you."
Shirou spun around.
Before him stood a scholarly-looking man wearing a black fedora, a large black coat over a loose white shirt, black slacks. The outfit seemed plain, even slightly unkempt, yet suited him perfectly. His black hair fell lightly over sharp eyes, carrying a refined, almost indescribable charisma.
Instinctively, Shirou stepped half a pace back, hand reaching toward his waist to draw his sword—only to find nothing there. His eyes froze when he saw the Seiken Swordriver and Kaenken Rekka in Touma's hands. Touma smiled, running his fingers lightly along the blade, as though greeting an old friend.
He stepped forward, returning the sword to Shirou. In his other hand, he placed a plate of pastries into Shirou's palm, his smile still warm:
"Go on, eat… I brought you here only to see what the next bearer of Kaenken Rekka is like."
Shirou didn't touch the pastries. Instead, he reclaimed the Driver, eyes narrowed with suspicion as he studied Touma.
"May I ask—how did you bring me here? And… where exactly is 'here'?"
Touma smiled faintly, voice as light as the wind:
"Ah… this place? It's my bookstore."
"No, no. I mean… what world is this?"
"Oh… isn't it familiar? You don't feel it?"
Shirou furrowed his brows. Indeed, he had felt a strange familiarity since arriving, yet the terrain and surroundings were utterly unlike his memories—leaving him unable to place it.
Touma chuckled, patting Shirou's shoulder before strolling a few steps around the room. He turned back, hands clasped behind him, eyes bright:
"This place is… the Wonder World."
"Wonder World?! Impossible!" Shirou stepped back, eyes wide in shock. "Zoth-sensei brought me to the Wonder World when I was a child to train with Rekka's power. I know every corner of that realm… there's no way I wouldn't recognize it!"
Touma nodded, as if expecting that reply. He walked to a bookshelf, drew out a volume, and handed it to Shirou.
"You're right… you truly did live in the Wonder World from a young age. But this… is a different Wonder World. Each world has its own realm of imagination, its own stories. Fascinating, isn't it?"
Shirou paused, then nodded slowly. He realized Touma seemed deeply knowledgeable about both the Wonder World… and the Sacred Swords. He ask:
"Touma-sensei… may I ask… why was I chosen by Rekka? My teacher said… it wasn't him who gave me the right to wield it—that Rekka itself chose me, unconsciously. What does that mean?"
Touma's eyes softened. He stepped to the counter, took a pen, and placed it in Shirou's hand, his voice deep and resolute:
"It was your will to protect others that drew it to you. Shirou… the connection between our worlds is ending soon. I hope you'll continue to grow stronger. Now… use Rekka to write your own story, successor of the Flaming Sword."
Shirou opened his mouth to speak, reaching toward Touma—
But the space around them fractured, as if an unseen force split the world apart. A tremendous power seized him, dragging him back to his own world.
Before he vanished, he heard Touma's voice echo—steady, yet distant:
"Here's a hint for you, Shirou… You are the sword. The Sacred Swords are waiting for you. The stories and worlds… are waiting for their protector. You are the sword… and also the heir of the Wonder World. Carry imagination and wonder across the world."
The space twisted violently. Shirou was swallowed by the vortex, disappearing from the bookstore.
That was what made him jolt upright as if waking from a nightmare. In his hand lay a book and a pen—silent prompts urging him toward a new journey.
The door suddenly swung open. A figure in white armor and a long blue skirt stepped in, voice urgent:
"Shirou! What happened?!"
Shirou glanced over. It was Saber. He relaxed, offering a gentle smile.
"It's nothing, Saber… I just had a strange dream."
Artoria exhaled in relief, standing straight again, voice turning serious:
"By the way… why is that Ruler in your house?"
"Ruler? Who do you mean?"
"Zoth. The Moonlight Knight… or the Demon Sword King."
"Ah… you mean Zoth-sensei? He's been living with me for nearly six years. But… more importantly, where is he? I need to ask him something."
"He's out with another Ruler, shopping for modern clothes. Said they'll be back by sunset."
"I see… then I suppose I'll have to—"
"No!" Artoria strode forward, pressing him back into bed, her voice firm. "Shirou, you need to rest. Don't push yourself."
At that moment—
Gurgle—gurgle—!!
The sound echoed through the room. Artoria instantly clutched her stomach, her ahoge standing on end, face flushed red as she avoided Shirou's eyes.
Shirou's brow twitched. He inhaled deeply, exhaling with a sigh as he rubbed his temple.
"Saber… looks like you're hungry again. Fine, I'll cook something. At least it'll help me regain my strength."
Artoria lowered her head, quietly following behind. Shirou, meanwhile, walked on with a thoughtful look. In his mind, Touma's words still resonated.
He raised his hand, murmuring to himself:
"Kamiyama Touma… former bearer of the Flaming Sword… What exactly do you wish to see in me?"
(These days, I feel like the story's getting more and more nonsensical… It's not really like it was back during the France arc, right? I'll take some time to look back and see how I can rewrite it to make it better… Anyway, I'm gonna go back to installing Uma Musume now! Bye ya!! See you next Wednesday!? ^v^)