Chapter 4. A Hundred-Move Rondo with Saber
Blade met sword.
In the 0.1 seconds where the momentum died, Bakuya was pressed back by overwhelming strength.
The difference in physical strength was absolute. In a life-or-death duel, this often decided everything. The retreat of the single blade created an opening in the posture of Shirou's arm. Seizing this gap, the Invisible Air (Wind King's) sword flashed past, swift as a thunderbolt.
However, Kanshou and Bakuya—the two famous swords Shirou trusted most and used most frequently—were a pair.
At almost the exact same time, Kanshou was held horizontally directly in front of his chest. The powerful thrust struck the steel of the blade at a specific angle.
There was no sound of clashing steel, only the friction of footsteps against the ground. The force of the strike transferred to Shirou, sending him flying backward—or perhaps, he had intentionally retreated with specific footwork.
As if proclaiming that strength was not everything, Shirou drifted to the side like a fallen leaf brushed by a bamboo pole, neutralizing the strike by yielding to the force of his retreat.
Shirou pulled back Kanshou, traced a flourish with the black blade, and wiped away the slight sweat lingering on his forehead.
Saber wasn't at full power yet. Shirou knew this well. If he could handle it easily, it wouldn't be called Saber's full power. As a sign, Saber was still wearing her dress.
If they were truly fighting at full strength, that form would be...
"Shirou."
"Understood."
Shirou and Saber. Both of their gazes sharpened to a degree incomparable to before.
Then, Saber burst forth with magical energy.
It wasn't just "magical energy like a physical entity." Quite the opposite; it was magical energy that had already materialized. Silver armor covered her dress.
The noble King of Knights appeared before Shirou's eyes as if emphasizing her own existence. The figure he had thought was "unbelievably strong" countless times pointed her blade at him.
A forced smile tugged at the corner of Shirou's mouth.
"Let's see how long I can last this time."
.
.
.
The rapid-fire strikes of the peerless King of Knights were a literal hell.
In reality, there was no time to drift or fly away; he could only brace himself and take the heavy strikes head-on.
Then came the second strike, the third, and an endless, unrelenting onslaught.
Soil and stones splashed. The pressure of the sword carved terrifying gouges into the ground, and the ominous sound of snapping tree roots could be heard.
The fluttering hem of the armored skirt left afterimages, breathtakingly beautiful.
If she slashed horizontally, he blocked.
If she thrust, he deflected.
He twisted his body at speeds beyond his limits; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to intercept the diagonal kesa-giri (a fundamental diagonal cut in Japanese martial arts) predicted for two moves later.
Compressing thought to the absolute limit. Using instinct as fuel. Praying for more speed, higher strength, and greater predictive ability.
The continuous clanging of swords, locked in a stalemate, rang like thunder in Shirou's ears. The current situation was—unharmed.
However, in twenty more moves, the situation would change. This was because his field of vision was gradually narrowing under the relentless pursuit.
It was a phenomenon that occurred when the body couldn't keep up with thought. Even if the error was only one percent each time, it would lean toward a hundred percent if accumulated a hundred times.
Shirou's condition was steadily approaching that hundred percent. Therefore, this rondo of blades could not be danced forever.
He took a step back. Saber's toe tapped the ground as she pursued. Blades met, and a hum rang out.
Whether it was a coincidence or not... five moves left.
—If the conventional dance steps could no longer continue, then he simply had to change the steps.
Shirou's left hand threw the yang sword, Kanshou.
Seeing this strike while mid-charge, Saber showed a faint smile. She swatted it away with her sword, feigning ignorance.
Without stopping for a moment, Saber landed a hair's breadth away from Shirou and swung her longsword.
"Crane Wing."
Just as the final decisive moves were about to be made, the sound of wind whistling came from behind. The longsword finally deviated from its path, swinging backward with a backhand strike.
This was the "timing one should know."
Without needing to look, the holy sword knocked the yang sword to the ground. However, if one viewed this as an opportunity for a counterattack, they were far too naive.
It was a magnificent spinning slash. In Shirou's eyes, it finally reached a point where his vision could absolutely not keep up. From abandoning the attack to slashing back, it didn't even take a third of a second.
However, this was also within his calculations.
He could still take the hit—Shirou met the holy sword with a white flash of his blade, parrying it.
At the very instant the defensive balance was about to collapse—
"Overedge."
The black blade Shirou had re-projected in his other hand exploded in size.
The Crane Wing attack was merely to buy time to complete the infusion of magical energy; the vicious, Noble Phantasm-like giant kitchen knife-like blade shot out, reaching an attack distance that shouldn't have existed.
If one's martial arts weren't top-tier among men, this strike would be unavoidable—it would only slice through one's chest.
However, for Saber, this was still not an unmanageable attack.
Both understood this simultaneously. Retreat, dodge the strike, and then Saber would be unharmed while Shirou would gain a gap to readjust his posture. —An ending move that broke expectations.
"..."
After making her prediction, Saber decided to retreat.
Even she felt this was a very excellent tactic.
There was only one problem: a moment before she was about to withdraw her force, the balance of the white blade supporting the holy sword collapsed.
Shirou's eyes widened silently. Saber, filled with regret, swung her sword in silence.
This wasn't just the collapse of the balance between two clashing swords, but the collapse of the balance of the entire battle. In an instant, the holy sword pressed down on the smaller sword and then pushed the larger sword to the side. After both swords were knocked to unfavorable angles, Shirou's chest was wide open.
And so, just one strike.
The holy sword, wrapped in Invisible Air, slashed across Shirou's shoulder as a gesture, leaving a slight scratch.
"You lose."
"I thought as much..."
Shirou let out a sigh and slumped down on a patch of grass that was still intact.
Saber, her face full of serenity, sat on the ground beside him. Her golden hair almost spilled onto Shirou's shoulder.
The armor on her body vanished. Now, she was a young girl dressed in a dress.
"Shirou, you are truly strong."
"Are you still going to say that even though I still can't beat you?"
"Yes, I can say that with certainty."
Saber answered decisively. In her emerald eyes, no doubt existed.
On the contrary, there was only pride.
Feeling as if he had lost his strength, Shirou's body went limp. For a moment, he leaned toward Saber's side, and Saber supported the weight of his body without minding at all.
He felt relaxed, followed by embarrassment.
"...I'm still far from reaching Saber."
To hide his embarrassment, Shirou sat up straight as quickly as possible, hiding his emotions in a murmur.
Saber looked at him and suddenly said:
"A hundred moves."
"What?"
"Shirou, if we count today's final failed variation, you were evenly matched with me for a hundred moves."
She began to smile gently; because her body would not grow, she looked like a very mature, soft young girl.
Shirou unconsciously brushed the strands of her hair that hung over his shoulder.
"That's not correct. I'm too familiar with Saber's sword style; my actual level isn't this high."
"If you're going to say that, then I am equally familiar with Shirou's swordsmanship. Our conditions are the same; there is no difference."
Shirou wanted to say more, but the words were blocked in his throat.
"Shirou. When I happened to stay behind, I never imagined there would come a day when I could fight you to this extent with my full strength."
Shirou could not deny the sincere joy in her words.
Rather, there was only an indescribable tenderness.
Therefore, Shirou only spoke the fact as he saw it. If there was a tiny bit of provocation in it, it must have been just an illusion:
"That's also because Saber has been training me all along that I could reach this stage. Besides, 'full strength' and all that—don't joke like that. Did Saber forget about her own Mana Burst?"
"...Is Shirou still willing to practice?"
Saber stood up.
"Just what I was thinking."
Shirou stood up too, and within the light representing Projection, two wooden swords with material as sturdy as iron appeared.
If Mana Burst was used, the degree of injury could not be guaranteed. To take a step back, even if a counterattack succeeded, Saber would be hurt. Therefore, whether it was Excalibur or Kanshou and Bakuya, they were cast aside.
"Let's settle it in one move, Shirou."
Gripping the wooden swords, they took their stances within ten meters.
There was no countdown, no ticking seconds. Only an instantaneous explosion as the wind, carrying the scent of magical energy, forced the weeds to their knees.
Saber's speed—even dynamic vision could barely react.
It was a pure, straight-line, ultra-high-speed charge.
Gritting his teeth, Shirou moved his sword.
In this span of less than a second, the match was decided.
Clang!
Amidst the crisp sound of wooden swords clashing woven by both parties, only the birds were innocently startled, leaving behind a collective cry as they flew into the sky.