Soaking in the arcade's bustle till sunset and his last coin became "GAME OVER" on screen—only then did Steve finally stretch, still feeling unsatisfied.
Exiting this world of light and electricity, he strolled into a nearby quiet, empty alleyway.
The high walls muffled all noise, and only the wind's whispers could be heard.
Closing his eyes, he quietly invoked cosmic magecraft.
But rather than distort causality with tremendous force, this was a subtler skill—
an imitation future vision like Grand Caster's observation ability.
In his view, reality rapidly shrank and receded like a tide, replaced by luminous streams of information about the present flowing toward the future.
Instead of gazing far ahead, he focused on the present,
and like Merlin's Clairvoyance,
shifted his sight to the far side of the world.
His vision spread, spanning sea and continent, then locked onto a private jet cruising at ten-thousand meters.
In the cabin, Lord Marisbury Animusphere was resting with a glass of red wine nearby.
He was already en route to Japan.
The time drew near.
"Well… Now it's time to pay attention to that last trivial 'insurance.'"
Steve slowly opened his eyes. Starlight flashed within, then faded.
He took out his cell phone and dialed his home.
The call picked up after a few rings; Caren's calm, deadpan voice came through. ["What's up?"]
"Oh, Caren, it's me.
I have an errand tonight, so I won't be home for dinner. Please share the meal with Sakura."
A short silence, then:
["Understood."]
In a soft voice.
["Out playing again? Watch what you eat. I won't be around to haul you to the hospital for poisoning."]
"Thanks! I'll be careful."
Chuckling, Steve hung up. He knew this was the most she could express her worry.
Instead of returning to his downtown apartment, he changed course to Miyama Town.
Night deepening, he blended into the flow of people and cars,
pausing in front of a lovely two-story Western-style house—not the old Japanese home from the original story, but one more like the warm Einzbern mansion from Prisma☆Illya.
This was where Kiritsugu and his family lived.
He rang the bell.
The door swiftly opened—revealing Irisviel, beautiful and silver-haired, her red eyes shining.
Upon seeing him, she looked a little surprised, but greeted him kindly:
"Good evening, Mr. Steve! Such a rare guest. Please, come inside."
"Good evening, Lady Irisviel. I hope I'm not intruding."
Inside the warm and bright living room, a silver-haired girl sat on the carpet intently watching a magical girl anime, clutching a lion plushie in pink pajamas.
Illya, still mentally ten but physically already eighteen.
Upon hearing the noise, she glanced back, saw Steve, and politely stood to bow:
"Good evening, Uncle."
"Good evening, Illya."
Over the past ten years, Steve had dropped by occasionally as Kiritsugu's friend,
so Illya recognized him—if only as a rare, friendly visitor.
Just then, someone emerged from the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding a spatula—Kiritsugu Emiya himself.
Seeing Steve, his eyes flickered with faint surprise, then he removed the apron and approached.
"Steve? What brings you here?"
"I have something important I need to discuss privately."
Steve's face turned serious.
Kiritsugu's eyes sharpened at once.
He nodded to his wife and daughter, then led Steve up to the study.
The door shut, cocooning them from the warm sounds of daily life below.
The room was thick with the scent of smoke and gunpowder—a Magus Killer's scent.
Though retired for a decade, that fire remained unextinguished.
Kiritsugu poured water for them both, lit a cigarette, and leaned on the desk, gazing with knife-sharp eyes.
"…Say it. What is it?"
Steve didn't mince words.
"The Fifth Holy Grail War is about to begin."
Bang!
Kiritsugu slammed his glass on the table, water splashing.
His pupils contracted, his dead eyes instantly flashing with cold killing intent and deep alarm.
"What did you say?!"
"And…" Steve added calmly, "…I orchestrated it."
The air froze.
Kiritsugu stared, as if trying to see through him—
shock, anger, confusion swirling in his eyes.
The war that had once destroyed his life was about to start again,
and the one behind it was someone to whom he owed a great debt.
"Calm down, Kiritsugu."
Steve raised a hand for peace. "I know what you're thinking. But this time is different."
"From the start, there were only two designated Masters.
The other five slots have already been secured—no new innocent victims will be drawn in."
He briefly outlined (skipping the full truth about Marisbury and Chaldea) how he'd preserved and rebuilt the Grail as bait for a specific magus.
Knowing Kiritsugu's character, he realized that blaming the old director as the root of this new evil would make Kiritsugu's first reaction to prep gear and knife and ambush the threat—
something that would completely derail Steve's own plan.
"This ceremony is necessary to lure one magus from the Association.
We'll resolve things as cleanly and quickly as possible, with no danger to the public.
So—I'm not here to recruit you or Illya."
Steve's tone was earnest. "Rather, I'm asking you not to participate."
"I'm worried you'd do something drastic, like blowing up the Grail at Mount Enzou without knowing the truth.
I still need it intact. Please, just watch and don't intervene."
Kiritsugu fell silent, snuffed out the cigarette, the only sound his harsh breathing.
His conscience wavered fiercely:
his killer's instinct said "eliminate the threat before disaster strikes,"
but as husband and father, he remembered it was Steve who had granted him this happiness.
Ten years prior, by combining a wish on the Grail with Steve's miraculous magecraft, they'd separated Irisviel's soul from the system and created a perfect, normal body for her.
It was thanks to Steve that he had a humble, happy life with wife and daughter during these years.
That debt was heavier than Mount Everest.
"…Why?"
After a long silence, Kiritsugu finally rasped,
"Why'd you do this? Put Fuyuki at risk again just to lure a magus?"
"Well…" Steve scratched his head, looking sheepish, "that magus and his summoned Servant are… really important to me.
Explaining more is difficult here.
But I guarantee you—the public is absolutely safe.
Just let your family carry on as always;
everything will end quickly and secretly."
Another long silence.
Kiritsugu stared into Steve's eyes—sincere and pleading.
At last, he sighed deeply, as if finally deciding.
"…Alright."
He nodded. The killing intent and wariness faded, replaced by complicated trust.
"Just like I once believed you could perform miracles ten years ago… I'll trust you now.
I won't intervene.
But Steve, if things spiral out of control—if Illya or Iri are endangered…"
"That day will never come. I promise."
"Good."
Kiritsugu relaxed at last. "Then—anything I can do to help?"
"Actually, most of the prep's already done in these ten years," Steve smiled. "But if you really want to help, there's a small request:
In three days, I might need to act in a crowded place—say, the Shinto stadium.
Could you stage a little 'incident' beforehand to evacuate the area? Set the stage for me?"
"No problem."
Kiritsugu agreed instantly. "Gas leak, pipe maintenance… not hard at all.
Leave it to me."
With this crucial promise, a huge weight fell from Steve's shoulders.
In just a few words, he had turned the one man most likely to interfere with the war into his steadfast ally.
...
Bonus chapter at 100 PS