The moment Shirō saw the swarm of black-clad, masked "assassins" appear before him, his instincts screamed at him to retreat. He tried to step back, only to find Yoruichi firmly blocking the way, refusing to budge an inch.
"Damn it! Can you at least act professional? You're supposed to be trembling in fear, not holding me in place!" Shirō muttered.
Pfft!
A laugh slipped from behind him, quickly stifled. Yoruichi knew full well that laughing now wasn't part of the script. So she put on her "fragile maiden" act, her voice soft and pitiful.
"Brave guard… I leave my safety entirely in your hands~"
Shirō's lips twitched, but he played along.
"Fear not, Princess! I shall return victorious!"
That threw Yoruichi for a loop. She hadn't expected him to actually jump into the role, and worse, to really jump out into the fray. Was he insane? She could see plain as day he had no ability. Sure, he wouldn't die under her men's restraint, but he was bound to get beaten to a pulp.
Yet there he went, facing down the crowd alone.
The black-clad figures rushed forward like bandits out of a cheap play. Shirō puffed out his chest and shouted,
"Ha! You're far too naïve!"
He swung his wooden practice sword dramatically through the air. And though it was all for show, the flourish was surprisingly convincing, enough to make the attackers hesitate. Even Yoruichi paused, a spark of genuine curiosity lighting her eyes. Did this boy actually have a hidden trump card?
She almost signaled her men to test him, when Shirō suddenly pointed at her and barked,
"Your target is this so-called princess, right?"
The "assassins," playing their part, glanced at Yoruichi and gave small nods.
"Excellent!" Shirō smirked, tossing his wooden sword aside. "Then she's all yours. She has nothing to do with me!"
The force of his betrayal hit like a bomb. Even the hardened assassins stumbled in disbelief. Poor "Princess Yoruichi" herself collapsed onto the ground, convulsing at the audacity.
The men exchanged uneasy glances.
"…Milady, if he plays like this, we really can't keep the act going."
Shirō pressed the attack, grinning. "What are you waiting for? Get it over with! Your wives are at home waiting for dinner!"
Thud, thud, thud!
The last of the "assassins" dropped like felled trees, unable to keep their composure.
Shirō beamed smugly. Try gaming with me, huh? I've been breaking scripts since you were still playing in the sandbox.
But Yoruichi wasn't about to lose. With her uncanny quick-thinking (and shamelessness), she suddenly sprang up, tearing away her "princess gown" to reveal her black combat gear beneath.
"You fools! You've been tricked! I'm the real bodyguard, protecting this young prince! We disguised ourselves to lure you out!"
And with that she dove into the crowd, fists and feet flying.
One problem, she'd conveniently forgotten about the "young prince" she was supposed to protect.
"Shameless!" Shirō cursed. "There's such a thing as going too far. How are we supposed to face each other tomorrow after this?"
Meanwhile, the few "assassins" she hadn't engaged turned their eyes toward him. Sure, they could spar with Yoruichi, but that meant certain pain, and no payback. Beating on Shirō, though? That was easy, and at least they wouldn't get pummeled for free.
"Heh heh heh…" they chuckled, closing in.
"Uh, remember, your wives are waiting at home for dinner…" Shirō stammered.
"Right you are," one nodded thoughtfully.
"Exactly! So let's hurry up and finish this job," another grinned.
"Protect the princess!!" Shirō shrieked.
And then… nothing but screams.
At the Shihōin gates later, Yoruichi waved cheerfully.
"See you tomorrow, little Shirō~!"
"I'll see you in hell! You're all monsters! Child abusers! Fascists!!" he roared back, stomping away. His words were so slurred from swelling that nobody understood a syllable.
Onlookers whispered as he passed.
"Isn't that the boy from the Emiya family?"
"The same one from this morning?"
"Looks like he's already been punished."
"Strange… after offending Lady Yoruichi, he's still alive?"
"She's so merciful!"
"Hail Lady Yoruichi!"
Shirō sneered at the ignorant crowd. Merciful my ass! Hail my ass! You'll all be crying once you fall into her hands.
He touched his battered face and hissed. His head was swollen like a lopsided ball, yet somehow people still recognized him. Were their eyes really that sharp, or had his misfortune become that famous already?
Finally, reaching home, he spotted his mother waiting anxiously at the gate. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Ah… only a mother's love is true. Mom, I'm ho,
Smack!
"Filthy beggar! Get out of the way, I'm waiting for my son!"
Tears welled instantly.
"Moooom…"
And for the first time, Shirō understood the truest meaning of an old saying:
"Beaten until even your own mother wouldn't recognize you."
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150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter