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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The next time she lifted her stare, she was standing in front of the Matou residence.

Her legs moved on instinct. Only now did she realize where she'd landed.

The cold, rotting stench of the manor seeped through the walls, and her fingers curled at her sides. The exterior towered as a genuine mansion, with expertly laid brickwork being the primary choice of building material for its facade, even amongst the multiple portions of the residence that took a conical shape.

Some areas of the household exhibited signs of wear and tear from years of weathering the constant storm of time and subpar maintenance. Its white pavers led to both the gardens and the entrance as if grandfather himself was happily inviting guests inside his not-so-humble abode.

She didn't want to go inside. But where else was there?

She fumbled through her pockets and reached out for the bronze door knob. Her hands stopped just before the key entered the hole of the door knob when her nose twitched in cautious recognition of a familiar scent of decay.

"It's already unlocked, you know."

A voice spoke from behind her.

Sakura gasped and swiveled around to meet the voice that had seemingly appeared from out of nowhere, the keys clattering from the sudden jolt of her hands.

Her eyes landed on the figure before relaxing slightly in recognition. The figure was less reminiscent of a human and more of a shadow.

A short elderly man had appeared from seemingly nowhere before her. He was completely bald, pale, and hunched over, holding a plain wooden walking stick to keep himself steady. Despite leaning on his walking stick, his pitch-black eyes gleamed with something far too alive for a man so withered as he appeared to be. Not a single hair clung to his pale skin. His plain green robes billowed in the wind. But his body seemed unaffected, having appeared as if via materialization rather than moved toward her.

"Grandfather." Sakura breathed out, her thoughts once again reorienting themselves. Now was the time to concentrate, and she didn't dare let her thoughts wander again.

Zouken's lips less curled and more creaked into a curved smirk like a scimitar, similar to that of someone aware of an inside joke that the world had missed out on.

"Our wayward heir's been expelled, has she? Honestly, what is an old man like me to do when you get yourself into trouble like this? Frankly, it might have been less trouble to pick the other girl instead."

"He knew already? No. Of course, he did. He always does."

"Come now, nothing to say for yourself? After all, it's going to take quite a bit of effort to get you enrolled in the next semester after getting expelled so early on," he sneered.

"Apologies, grandfather. I missed too many days because of... training."

"Oh, that's quite the nerve you have there, Sakura. It's your training as a magus and the Matou heir, after all. If our entire magus society can endure, then why can't you? Well, at least you won't have to stomach the sight of the Tohsaka girl."

Sakura clenched her toes and tightened her jaws hearing his words. So that's why he'd intensified her training lately.

"I'm sorry... grandfather," she mumbled.

"Hmph, no matter. Follow me," Zouken snorted, slowly creeping through the door, his other hand waving dismissively. Sakura wordlessly followed him into their household, eyes firmly planted on the ground.

"Tell me, Sakura, do you remember what I taught you about the Holy Grail War all those years ago?"

She blinked.

Her body was still cold from the walk home; her limbs ached from exhaustion. Expelled. Rin had turned away. She had expected that, hadn't she? Expected it, and it still hurt.

Now he was talking about the Grail War?

She realized, belatedly, that he had been watching her, waiting for her to catch up to his pace as she'd fallen behind the old man. The ancient magus stared as if she were just a malfunctioning laptop that needed to reboot before it could function again.

Yet, how could she forget? The Fuyuki Holy Grail War had been one of the few times he'd ever bothered to teach her anything about the world of magecraft. It was also what Zouken had dangled in front of her when Kariya declared he would save her two years ago. At least that was before it'd been delayed.

"Seven masters chosen by the holy grail, and seven heroic spirits are summoned as servants by those masters in a battle royal to the death for the holy grail. It's supposed to take place every sixty years," she declared like she was robotically reciting from a script.

"Acceptable. What else can you tell me?"

"It's supposed to be the fourth one, and it is said that the grail is supposed to be able to grant any wish. Up until now, all the wars ended without a winner''

"I believe you're forgetting a detail or two, Sakura. What would Kariya say being so readily forgotten like that?"

"All three of the founding families get their own contestants. Uncle Kariya is representing us, and if he wins..."

"Then you'll be set free. If dear Kariya wins, hehe," he said with a dry chuckle as if the thought of it alone amused him.

He tilted his skull, black eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"You really should keep up with the times, my dear. This war is… different."

Sakura felt her stomach twist into a knot at those words.

"Think. The war was originally supposed to take place two years ago, yet it didn't, and here we are. Now, why do you think this is?"

Sakura paused, her fingers clenched at her sides while she wracked her brain for answers. Zouken hummed as he turned the next corner.

"Go on. Think, child," Zouken pressed, his tone oozing indulgence. "Why would a ritual that has functioned for centuries just suddenly stall?"

Silence echoed between the two of them. No one had told her why it'd been moved from its original date two years ago. Was it a mana problem? Did the Grail somehow fail and need to be repaired? Did her grandfather himself even know?

"You see, this time, there's been a bit of an anomaly that was detected in the Greater Grail that had to be dealt with, and as a result, the rules have shifted. Adjusted, you could say, to account for… more participants than expected," he continued smoothly, each word calculated and dripping in glee.

The definitive number was missing. It was the first thing she noticed, that. The war was supposed to have seven participants.

That was deliberate.

"More Masters. More Servants. More chaos." Zouken let the words hang, savoring the pause. "A proper war, wouldn't you say?" he spoke as he opened the door in front of them, leading them toward his workshop.

She didn't answer right away.

She was still trying to wrap her mind around this information.

More Masters meant more Servants.

More Servants meant more enemies.

She still vividly remembered the last time she'd seen Kariya. He had been barely holding himself together as it was when he'd embraced her and promised to save her. What was he supposed to do against this?

Zouken chuckled once more as torches flickered alight in their slow descent down stone staircases. Its walls were impaired with grime and condensation from the humidity of what lay below. It smelled musky and of mold.

"My, my. You do look pale. I hope I didn't scare you. Surely you're not worried?"

"I..."

"Haha, you do not need to worry like that, my dear. In truth, even I'm not sure how many servants and masters we'll have to account for now."

His eyes glanced over at her once again. Zouken's cane tapped against the steps in an easy-going manner as if they were simply taking a stroll in the park.

"Ahh, I see you're quite hung up on that little detail, aren't you? What does it matter, dear? You're not fighting in this war. You're not a Master. Hehe, the thought of someone like you being a master is quite the thought, though," he said, shaking his head.

"It just seems unfair, Grandfather," she replied as they reached the bottom of the staircase, stopping at the foot of an otherwise medieval-looking door that seemed to be thrice the size of Sakura and Zouken put together.

His voice dropped, the amusement curling into something colder as he waved his hand with a mutter. The door glowed with a gentle aura of red and purple.

"You are here to watch."

Zouken pushed open the door, gesturing his head forward with a few tilts. "Come, now. I wouldn't want you to miss the spectacle."

"Hell," She thought.

That's certainly what she was looking at, wasn't it? The worm pit of the Matou family. The secret they so jealously guarded was akin to the dragon Fafnir and its hoard of treasure, as if anyone would truly want magecraft such as this.

The stench hit first.

Repugnant and overwhelming with the foul odor of rot and dampness, a blinding dark green darkness like the depth of the ocean. This was truly the pinnacle of the Matou legacy. Writhing and squirming was the only way one could describe the area that they were in. It was as if the very walls and floors themselves were alive, trying to swallow any wayward traveler into their depths.

The deepest and darkest depths of the Matou household. Writhing and squirming are what everything from the walls to the deep spiral that led into a circular concrete platform could be described as. Yet that was not the case, at least not truly.

Those movements weren't caused by the walls or illusionary magecraft itself. Rather, the vile movements were induced by the sheer number of Zouken Matou's signature familiars, the ever-insidious crest worms. They were both the prized possession of her grandfather and the bane of every other Matou's existence.

Sakura felt alarm rapidly creep into her heart. She knew what this was the moment she looked down at the lone figure standing on the platform in the center of a circle with markings she didn't recognize.

The figure stood alone, surrounded by the spiraling pit of worms.

Slim. Far too slim.

He wore a loose blue hoodie, the fabric seemingly dangling off his skeletal frame, and simple black cargo pants. His posture was unsteady, lopsided even, less the way of a human being with equilibrium in their steps and more like one who moved with only parts of their body truly working.

Her feet moved down the steps and past Zouken without her even realizing it. At that moment, her eagerness briefly overtook years of conditioning.

"Uncle Kariya!"

Kariya slowly turned towards the high-pitched source of that voice. A voice he hadn't heard in so long.

"Sakura..." he quietly muttered.

She stopped. Her eyes looked upon his figure in horror. Sakura knew that the last time she had seen him, he had already looked like a dead man walking, but this was simply cruel.

It took her a moment to understand. To fully glimpse what she was looking at.

His arm ended at the wrist.

That was the first thing Sakura noticed. Not his gaunt frame or deathly pale skin, just the abrupt end of his arm, where his hand should have been. A tattered bandage had been haphazardly wrapped around the remainder of it. The fabric was stained through with dried blood. The bandage loose in some areas and yet overly tight in others, fraying at the seam of the fabric.

Sakura wanted to retch.

He still smiled. A weak, forced smile. As if he hadn't even noticed his condition.

It took her a moment to realize the other wrong thing about him.

He was missing an eye.

A thick leather eye patch covered his left eye, the strap gently pressing against his sunken and veiny skin. The last time she had seen him, his eye had still been there, even if it had already gone blind and was no longer usable.

Now, it was simply gone.

He let out a weak chuckle upon seeing Sakura stop dead in her tracks.

"It looks like I scared you, haven't I Sakura?" he spoke. If nothing else, his speech seemed to have at least retained most of its vigor from when she'd last seen him. Even so, he still outstretched his arms weakly for her, and she rushed into his embrace.

She wrapped her arms around what little of her uncle remained. his gaunt frame far easier to embrace than she would have liked.

Her voice trembled. "What happened to you, Uncle Kariya?"

"Ah… I must look terrible, don't I? It seems your uncle isn't as enduring as you are, Sakura."

He gave a bitter smile in reassurance, but it quickly twisted into a painful grimace. Sakura couldn't help but flinch.

A faint hum of mild approval echoed from the stairs behind them.

Zouken.

"It is quite remarkable," he mused, dismounting from the staircase until his cane finally met the stone of the leveled platform. "The human body typically wouldn't survive, let alone maintain itself under your particular circumstances," the Matou elder stated with a smirk.

"Then again," Zouken hummed, his tone thinly feigning thoughtfulness, "your body couldn't be called a human one now, can it?"

His eyes flicked briefly toward Kariya's messy bandages, the skeletal frame he now called a body, and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He stopped just mere feet away from the duo.

"I had to make quite a few adjustments after the war was delayed," he admitted. "Your body was already being consumed rapidly during that first year. Had I allowed the worms to continue their usual course, you would have been fully consumed within a month of the grail's original start time. In truth, I had never intended for things to go this far, but alas, the Grail had other plans."

He stepped forward once more eagerly. To truly inspect his handiwork.

"Rather than allowing our crest worms to act as they naturally do, I had to restructure their consumption pattern from the ground up, redirecting them away from key organs while maintaining an optimal level of sustenance for both you and the worms to survive."

A pause.

Sakura's breath stilled hearing her elder rattle off once more.

Zouken smiled. "It was a delicate balance for me to strike if I do say so myself. If their feeding was completely restrained, they would have died off and you along with them. Had I been too lax in my labors for your sake, well—" He pointed his cane dismissively toward the stump where a fully functional and healthy hand had once been.

"Even then," he continued, "your body proved inefficient. Between the degradation of muscle fibers and the necrosis of peripheral tissues! An unfortunate side effect but overall acceptable to keep you alive."

Kariya's remaining fist clenched at his side, his three command seals stretching alongside his skin.

"Of course, I also had to rework the mana circulation pathways provided by the worms. Given the extent of your internal damage, the worms had begun to disrupt your ability to properly transfer prana. Now that would have been quite an inconvenience if you are to win the grail for the Matou clan. The solution was quite simple, albeit difficult. I had to reroute the flow through the remaining intact nervous pathways. Imperfect, of course, but functional enough."

Another pause followed by a sigh.

Casually, he added:

"And here you are, two years later. Standing proud! You should be grateful for your father's dedicated work in keeping you going."

He shot a hateful and quiet glance toward the head of the Matou clan, a soft 'tsk' escaping from his lips. For a moment, he let his eyes linger upon the man. Not with any intent of acting, but with hunger and desire. A desire for the one thing he knew he could never breathe into reality:

A moment when that shitty old man wasn't breathing.

"Why did you bring her here?" Kariya spat.

"To learn, of course! She's just been expelled from school, you know? Too many absences, they say, but I can't very well leave my prospective heir without some education, now can I?" The ancient magus's eyes locked on the corpse-like figure in front of him as if daring him to say anything otherwise.

Kariya glanced down towards Sakura, who had wordlessly returned to Zouken's side, her eyes etched with concern. Guilt overwhelmed Kariya at the moment. At that instance, he could not help but blame himself for the imprisonment Sakura had found herself in. Kariya cursed Zouken Matou himself, and, most of all, Tokiomi Tohsaka for putting this all in motion. Not a day went by where he hadn't cursed the name Tokiomi to hell and back for putting Sakura, Aoi, and himself through this hell!

He stood silent until Zouken once again deigned to speak.

"Have you memorized the summoning incantations properly?" he reminded him, his words taking on a more cordial tone. As far as he was concerned, he felt the need to remind Kariya lest he bring the entire manse down upon them with an improper summoning.

"Of course I have."

"Good. Then I'd like for you to add two more lines to your incantation."

"What're you getting at?"

"You should know by now, Kariya, your borrowed power still falls quite below other masters in this war, especially now. As you are now, I do not doubt that whatever servant you summoned will incur a penalty in their parameters regardless of the class you summon them in so..."

Zouken outstretched his arms slightly outward. "I've taken the liberty of deciding for you! This will be the best way to compensate. You will summon a Berserker class servant with the madness enhancement skill to raise their parameters from the root up to make up for the master's shortcomings!" he spoke with glee.

Sakura tensed. A Berserker?

While she didn't know what a Berserker entailed as a servant, it didn't take much to glean the implication of such a name.

She couldn't fathom a way for Kariya to control a being with the name of Berserker. Her heart tightened in worry at the prospect of it, especially with the pathetic state he was in currently.

Kariya's blood ran cold, but for his part, he could only silently nod and acquiesce as Zouken spoke the incantations to him.

"You want me to—" His throat felt dry, hoarse, raw. "—to summon a Berserker? In this state? You said the war doesn't even start for another two months!"

Zouken tilted his head. His smirk widened.

"You misunderstand," he said smoothly. "You are not in some sort of state, far from it! You are at your peak. Congratulations Kariya Matou. You are my finest creation."

Kariya looked like he wanted to scream. Yet, what could he do? He'd known for years that the day he allowed the worm mage to fill his body with those damned crest worms he was doomed to become his puppet.

"Unless, of course, you have any more complaints?"

Kariya could only silently nod in submission and acquiesce as Zouken spoke the incantations to him before stepping back and dragging along Sakura with him.

"Now pay attention, Sakura, you are about to see something that happens once in a lifetime! Who knows, if you play your cards right, you could become our representative for the next war!"

Sakura could only silently watch as Kariya stepped into the summoning circle. He raised his arm, command seals glowing with a soft buzz, and began to chant.

"Let silver and steel be the essence," he enunciated.

The first words of the incantation cut through the air, bouncing off the stone walls, and the summoning circle crackled with red energy beneath the Kariya.

"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation."

A pulse of energy pierced outward, roaring through the air.

Sakura felt her stomach twist into knots.

Something was wrong. This couldn't be normal, right?

Zouken lifted his head narrowly, his hairless brow wrinkling and his smile twitching at the edges.

"Let black be the color I pay tribute to."

Sparks scattered outward from the circle, arcing up like lightning arcs. Sakura winced, eyes widened in total focus. The only thing that took away from her attention was her noticing how the crest worms recoiled violently, screeching, withdrawing into the dark.

Zouken stepped forward, placing his body firmly between her and the summoning ritual. His pale hand reached outward in front of Sakura.

"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall."

The color began to change. Red energy turned violet. Violet to pearlescent. The magic now pulsing akin to a heartbeat.

Zouken's tone was calm but authoritative.

"Step back, Sakura, now!"

"Let the four cardinal gates close."

Sakura gasped as if the air had thickened and grown heavy. Her legs shivered, and she took a few paces back, further distancing herself from the chaotic scene unfolding in front of her.

"Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."

Kariya's voice splintered. He felt his throat pulling under the strain as the crest worms wriggled within his body. His body trembled, but with a dogged determination, he kept speaking, eyes glassy, mouth drawn in a rictus of desperation.

"Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword."

Blood oozed from his pulsating capillaries as unfortunate. Tears flowed from his sole intact eye on the right.

"Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail."

Zouken's robes fluttered wildly in the violent wind.

Sakura's nails dug into the skin of her knees. This was insane! She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth."

The color began to recede inward now, slowly the disorder pulling back towards the center of the circle where Kariya stood. However, Sakura could see something inside the lights, although she couldn't make it out. It kept swapping in shapes and forms that she could neither comprehend nor keep up with. Was it a snake, a dragon, a demon, or one of the other shapes it seemed to cycle through?

"An oath shall be sworn here."

Sakura whimpered.

"I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."

The circle pulsed once, then twice.

Zouken's eyes widened.

The mana surged once more. A ring of black lightning split the chamber.

"Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos."

Kariya felt his vision obscured with tears, and he gritted his teeth, determined to see this through.

"For you would be one caged in madness."

The air shimmered like glass under heat, flickering, distorting.

"I shall wield your chains."

Cracks splintered into existence at the edge of the circle. Pieces of stone broke beneath the trio's feet.

Zouken took a step back.

"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power—"

Sakura stared, unable to move, whimpering silently.

"Come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!"

A final scream from the circle tore through the pit.

The lights died.

The colors vanished.

Smoke drifted lazily from the now-blackened circle.

Kariya dropped to a knee, heaving heavily exhausted from the ordeal.

And in the center of it all stood a figure, cloaked and wrapped in the shadows of the keep based on his position.

A pair of golden eyes with slits pierced through the dark staring at the three Matou's in front of it.

As the smoke cleared and the subsequent darkness gave way to allow visibility, Sakura managed to parse the figure's appearance. The figure appeared to be a man.

The man stood tall, at least a head taller than Kariya standing upright. He owned a lean and firm build similar to some of the calisthenic athletes she'd seen in adverts and magazines. His silver hair appeared somewhat unkempt, falling just past the base of his neck in soft and loose strands. A short, well-groomed stubble covered his jawline, adding a rugged maturity to his otherwise youthful features. If one had to guess, it could be easily inferred that he looked somewhere between his late twenties or early thirties.

His skin was pale and smooth in complexion but interrupted by a jagged, pinkish, and visible scar that ran from the edge of his right eyebrow to his hairline.

His expression was relaxed, with a small, casual smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He came equipped with a black tactical jacket stylized with scale-like embroidery along the sleeves and up to its shoulders. Underneath was a dark, form-hugging shirt made from what Sakura assumed was a durable, breathable material. What that material was, she could not say. His black tactical pants were also reinforced at the knees with strong pads and featured hidden enclosures at the sides of his quads.

He wore combat boots with reinforced soles that extended to the middle of his shins. Over the rest of his ensemble, he wore a long, dark coat with a high collar left open at the front.

Eventually, she noted that a small, red tattoo of a small snake devouring its tail was on his left forearm, below the rolled-up sleeve of his jacket.

"Pretty..."

He seemed calm enough as opposed to the crazed madman barking out gibberish and demanding blood that she had expected.

Golden eyes wandered from figure to figure as if expecting something to happen any second now.

And then he stepped out of the shadows, his features plain to see for all. A disarming smile tugged at his lips, and he spoke.

"Ohayo! Looks like I've made quite the mess here, huh?"

Kariya stared at him, his mouth slightly agape at the sudden change in mood.

"Was this a berserker?" he must've wondered.

"Haha, sorry about that! Honestly, I didn't expect the summoning to be that chaotic. Next time, I'll make sure to be more careful," he joked sheepishly.

"Seriously, though. Was that how it was supposed to feel?" he asked aloud, his tone light, eyes darting from one place to another slowly.

The man took a deep breath, still smiling casually, and spoke once more, turning to Zouken.

"Ahh, going by what everyone looks like, you must be the one who furnished this little ritual of ours. I have to admit it's some pretty nice craftsmanship. Circle's a bit twitchy, but honestly, it held up better than I expected, given the look of things."

Zouken gave a faint smirk, his formerly rigid body relaxed somewhat, yet he said nothing.

Then his gaze shifted. For the first time, he looked directly at Sakura and stopped. His expression didn't change, but his eyes widened. Sakura realized what she must've looked like at that moment. She hadn't even been able to stop quivering!

"Oh," he said.

He stepped towards her and then raised his hand in a small, almost apologetic gesture with his palms out.

"Hey. Easy there. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?"

The pale-skinned servant's eyes flicked toward her once again, fast but not dismissive. Like she wasn't just background noise.

No one had looked at her like that in years.

Sakura blinked. Once. Her hands and legs still quivered, but the worst of it had passed. The fact that he even asked caught her off guard more than anything. Surely, he knew she was just here to watch?

"That's fair. I get it," the man continued affably with a small nod, like she'd said something. "It's a lot to see happen at once. I guess I should've opened with something a bit quieter, huh?"

His body turned once more, and so Sakura hurriedly spoke.

"It's okay."

He stopped mid-motion and turned back to her once more.

"Ahh, that's good to hear. I'll still have to make it up to you, so look forward to it! With that attitude, maybe you're the one who is my master, huh?" he joked.

Zouken laughed.

"Her? A master? Haha. No, she's only here to watch and learn. Just a bit of education for our heir. Even so, I'm sure you can tell servant where you're mana is coming from, can't you?"

"That I can, kiddo. That I can, who knows, though, maybe she'll make a great master someday! I can tell she's got the aptitude for it. You never know."

"Kid? What did he mean, kid?" she wondered, ignoring the summoned figure's latter comments. Her grandfather had to be at least a couple hundred years old, and this servant barely looked like he was hitting his thirties.

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, then drifted back to Kariya. His tone shifted again, and his gaze sharpened.

"And you... looks like you've been dragged through all of Hades and forgot to come back. Damn." he commented.

Kariya let out a small huff of annoyance in between his gasps. Slowly, he caught his breath once more and stood up.

"You're the one who summoned me?" the pale youth asked, cocking his head slightly. "You sure you're not about to keel over on me?"

"I can manage," Kariya rasped, barely audible

"Not judging," he added offhandedly. "I'm assuming you're my summoner, and I have to say you pulled it off. Barely. But you pulled it off nonetheless. That's still better than most can say, after all."

He walked over and offered Kariya his hand, yet he did not take it.

"Are you... Berserker?" Kariya rasped weakly.

The servant blinked, his eyes glinted, then he tilted his head slightly, seemingly amused by his question.

"Is that what you were trying for?"

He twirled around, extremely slowly, taking one final glimpse at the room for confirmation.

"Ahh, so that's what I felt on the way here," he muttered, placing his fingers upon his lightly stubbled chin in contemplation.

"We'd specifically meant to summon a Berserker servant to make up for certain shortfalls, so to speak. Tell me, if you're not the Berserker, what is your name and class?" Zouken pressed.

The servant waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Sorry to disappoint that I'm not some frothing-at-the-mouth batsh-" he paused, his eyes dashing back to the child in the chamber before resuming.

"Err... Frothing at the mouth, maniac. As a Berserker, I guarantee I'd be nowhere near as charming or handsome as I am now. As for my name, hmm... never mind that for now. Don't want to make things too easy. Tell you what, though, if I like you guys well enough, I'll gladly share it with you."

His gaze sharpened once more.

"Unless you plan to use one of those nifty command seals to make me."

"I don't care for your name, servant. As long as you can fight, that's all we need." Kariya finally spoke, having found the strength to speak once more.

The servant's facial expression shifted into one of slight concern, seeing the state of his presumed master, and then it slipped into a smirk at his master's defiant attitude. If anything, he seemed to approve of it.

Zouken's eyes narrowed for just a hair's breadth, yet just enough that Sakura saw it, though he said nothing for the moment.

"Hmph," the old magus finally muttered, his cane tapping against the floor. "So much for Madness Enhancement..."

"Yup," the Servant replied.

"Sorry, but you'll have to settle for lovable and highly lethal instead."

He stepped away and gave a bow towards all three Matou clan members in the chamber, one hand straightened and crossed at his chest.

"Class Designation: Servant Assassin at your service. Let's all get along, shall we?"

Chapter Text

November 18

It was raining a lot. I don't like when it rains so much.

The school usually has us stay inside when it rains, but I don't like that either. It feels stuffy and i dont know what to do.

I didn't talk with anyone today. But I wasn't sad, I just didn't feel like it. It stopped raining after a couple hours.

I got in trouble again. I have to leave now. The principal said I was gone too much. I wanted to tell her why, but I didn't. I can't.

I don't think it would matter. She didn't care about me. I don't think she even looked at me.

I saw Rin before I left. I told her I was leaving, that I wouldn't be back. She didn't say a lot. She just talked a bit. I wanted her to say something else, but she didn't. I felt like I was going to cry, but I didn't.

I hate it.

Why does she get to be happy and i dont?

I walked home by myself. Nobody saw me.

Grandfather said I have to watch Kariya's summoning today. He said it would be a lesson. I don't think it will be important for me, but I went anyway.

Grandfather does not think he can win. Me too. Grandfather does not like him.

Kariya looked bad and sad. He was shaking a lot. He looked like he was hurting. He promised he would save me a long time ago, but he did not come to see me since then.

I miss him. Sometimes I dont think he sees me either. I think he sees my mom birth mother.

The summoning was scary. I was really scared.

The Servant he called was strange in a nice way. He didn't wear armor. He smiled a lot. He called himself Assassin. He wasn't what I expected. I think he's pretty.

Grandfather seemed okay with it. I think he wanted Kariya to have a bad time. Kariya looked tired.

I don't think today was a good day.

Chapter Text

True Name : ██████

Species : Serpent, Dragon

Gender : Male

Blood Type : N/A

Place of origin: ██████

Birthday : Unknown. Even he doesn't know.

Age : ██████

Likes : Talking, Food, Connection, Violence, Traveling, Doting on his friends

Dislikes : People who don't value connections, Dull food, Getting ripped off, Cold weather, █ █ █ █

Natural Enemy : █ █ █ █, █ █ █ █, █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █, █ █ █ █ █ █,

Region of Origin : █ █ █ █

Alignment : Chaotic Evil or True Neutral

Class : Assassin

Alternate Classes : Avenger, Rider

Fan Casting Voice Actor : Takahiro Sakurai (Sub), and Ian Sinclair (Dub)

Parameters

Strength : C

Endurance : B-

Agility : A

Mana : B

Luck : E+

Noble Phantasm : EX

Identity and Lore

██████ is the ███████████ ███████ ██ █████████ ███ █ ████████████ ████████ ███ ███ ████████ ██ ████████ ███████ █████████. His core legend originates as the snake ███ ███ ███ █████ ██ ███████ ███████ ████ █████████, ███ ████ ███████, ██ adopted roles such as ███ █████ ██ █████, ███████████, ███ █████ ███████████ █████████ ████████ ███████ ███████ █████████ █████████ ███ ███████ ████. Though he's inherently tied to destruction, his prolonged existence led him to develop a profound albeit distant affection for humanity.

Class Skills

Presence Concealment (A+):

While capable of suppressing his presence as an Assassin, ███ ███████ █████████ █████████ ██ ███████████ ████ make him easier to detect when he engages in combat or █████ ██ ███ Noble Phantasms. He is, however, able to manipulate the perception of himself as viewed by others. Unless directly looking at him, he's unlikely to be spotted or sensed by many. This includes familiars.

Personal Skills

██████ Core of the Beast(???):

A reflection of his status as a potential █████ █████████, granting him absolute authority and resistance to interference. While not fully awakened as a █████, this power amplifies his abilities, instincts, and resistance to spiritual and corruption-based forces. No mental or spiritual change may be forced upon him unless it is under his terms.

Devour and Reconstruct (C):

By consuming matter, ██████ can reconstruct physical forms or repair injuries. However, this process is limited by the resources at hand and often leaves the subject diminished (e.g., reduced lifespan, missing components). It also uses mana based on the scope of work he's doing. The nature of the ability is to decompose and reform based on existing materials, but always at a lesser rate. Can only treat conditions on a macro level rather than a micro level, meaning he can "patch" injuries or convert what's already there into something else, but is incapable of curing diseases that don't require him to simply remove something. It can't be used to replace what's already gone, so nothing can be done about things such as amputations other than patching the area. The more precise he is with this technique, the more mana it consumes.

Primordial Instinct (C):

██ █ █████ ████ ██ ███ ███████ world and myths, ██████possesses heightened senses and instinctive foresight, even letting him navigate through situations utterly and conceptually alien to him, making him a dangerous predator in combat and highly adaptable.

Familiar Creation (C):

██████ can create familiars from his flesh, and also is capable of summoning familiars that have served him in the past. He notes that they obey him more out of instinct than loyalty, as he describes them as "Literal Drones". Depending on how much mana he uses in their creation, they can act as a mouthpiece, though they can not speak, be used for recon, act as a walkie-talkie, or even fight. While versatile, the creation of these familiars is far slower than what an average caster could do, costs mana to create, and only last for a certain amount of time.

Noble Phantasm

"Endless Coils of the █████ Serpent"

Type: Anti-Army / Anti-World

Rank: EX

████████ Noble Phantasm allows him to manifest the full power ██ ███ ██ ███ ████████████ █████. █████ ███████████████ █████ ███ one-time use of ████████ █████████ ██████ ████ ████ ████ ███████████, ██████ ████ once used the NP is ██████ ███ ███ ███████ ██ ███ ███.

██████████

████ ██ █████

████████

████

████████

██████████

Original Fate Zero masters ranked by compatibility with Assassin. Anyone below second place is in danger of either getting ditched by him or being outright killed; the latter would be the most common fate.

1. Waver
2. Kariya
3. Kiritsugu
4. Tokiomi
5. Kirei
6. Ryonosuke
7. Kayneth

Chapter Text

It’d been a pitiful turn of events for Kariya Matou if he were being honest.

Summoning Assassin took a lot out of him.

Even given his condition, the moment Zouken deemed him “recovered,” he’d promptly ushered them out of the estate like unwanted house guests who’d long since overstayed their welcome. 

Zouken waved them off, spouting nonsense about having “Done his duty” in preparing Kariya for the war, and insisting that since the rest of the Matous were non-participants, there was no reason for them to endanger the Matou clan by lingering. 

He wanted to laugh. Zouken never cared about any of them. 

Getting cast out was inevitable. Unless it was for training or he was too weak from the crest worms to walk, the Matou patriarch seldom let him stay on the estate.

“Oi!”

His servant argued with Zouken vehemently. There’d been shouts and attempts at persuasion, among other things. The most he’d been able to do was stall for an hour, enough for Kariya to get his bearings again. 

Of course, the Assassin made his opinion known loudly in his annoyance once they were far from the estate, calling Kariya’s so-called father a “charming decrepit ball sack,” if he remembered correctly. Although there was plenty of chance he was remembering wrong. What were the assassin’s words from that hour? Did he even say bye to Sakura? 

These days, Kariya knew he had difficulty recalling many things.

“Oi!”

He was still keenly aware of the familiar jolts of pain that’d become his primary companion. However, the crest worms remained dormant. They’d been less active since Zouken’s treatment. But he felt the pain from their feeding frenzies. 

He always felt it. 

The worms were dormant for now, but the scars and results of their bottomless hunger still gnawed at him. It’d been the only companion he’d had for three years now.

He stirred.

Concrete. Flickering lights. A dull buzz in the air.

Hmm.

Where was he again?

Where was here?

How long had he been here? Didn’t he have to do something?

“Oiiiii!” 

“That’s right… Aoi. I promised,” his damaged brain began reorienting itself, the thought surfacing like a cork bobbing to the top of still water.

Then he felt it. A swift but light kick to the arch of his footwear. Soft enough not to hurt, yet swift and precise enough to shock him back into proper awareness.

“Oi…” 

Kariya gasped. His head swiveled towards the source of the voice, his tattered hair tussling at the sudden movement. 

First, his thoughts caught up to the situation at hand. 

He still didn’t know where he was, but he knew it was an alleyway next to a bistro he had used to frequent before entering the Grail War. 

How long he’d been here, he also couldn’t tell. He didn’t have a watch or a phone to keep track of the time. He used to have a phone, but it’d broken due to lack of maintenance over the past three years, and Byakuya had outright refused to lend him any money to either get a new one or for repairs. He seemed still quite bitter over his departure from the mage life. 

Then, Kariya blinked. His sole eye struggled to focus as his vision transitioned from blurry dissociation to the focused quality he had grown used to. 

As for what he had to do…

“Hey! Breathe or blink or something! Just let me know you’re not about to die in this dingy place. That’d be an awkward start to the partnership.”

In front of him, a figure squatted, blurred by the flicker of lights, and his dissociation.

He held half a yakitori skewer in one hand and an empty soda can in the other.

Kariya blinked, and the face’s features sharpened into focus and quality.

Him.

Assassin.

His Servant.

Grinning like none of this was strange. His silver hair was slightly tousled from the wind.

His grin didn’t seem mocking like Zouken’s was, just… faintly amused more than anything else. Like nothing about today had been strange at all, or if he didn’t get summoned by what was essentially a homeless master.

“Seriously, though,” the silver-haired servant said, walking backward to a green power transformer only a couple of feet before Kariya. He sat cross-legged on the transformer like it was a barstool.

“You were out of it, I thought you became a corpse for a second after you just slumped down there. Honestly, I was just about to check you for a pulse.”

Kariya rasped something that might’ve been a sigh of annoyance or a curse.

“Ahh, there we go,” Assassin grinned. “He lives.”

Kariya blinked again, his eye gazing at the alleyway he’d found himself in.

The flickering buzz of malfunctioning lights and the residual beams of a blueish vending machine cast a dull, bluish light over the alleyway’s cracked concrete. 

The green power transformer, which the latest addition to Kariya Matou’s life sat upon, also gave off a distinct but pleasant hum, showing that, as deteriorated as the area was, it was still working properly. His servant in question, still perched on the transformer like he owned the damn place was munching away at another skewer, the sound of crunches between his teeth permeating the air after confirming that his master had not died in the middle of an alleyway before the war had even started.

If Kariya were being honest, he didn't want to talk to him at all. Everything about him screamed self-assured, confident, and extroverted. The kind of guy who always found himself casually chattering away with a stranger, no matter where he was. None of those things Kariya wanted to see, and none of which he ever saw in the mirror anymore. 

A subtle scent lingered in the air, a mix of exhaust, mist, and dirt that had accumulated when the area had been neglected.

“So,” he said between bites, voice muffled by food and amusement, “getting kicked out by your pops is that a regular thing in mage culture, or do we both just have rotten luck?”

Kariya didn’t respond to him. His breathing was shallow but slowly gaining strength. Each inhalation was a little tighter and fuller than the last.

The assassin tossed the now meatless skewer into a trash can from his seated position, reached for another stick from a small plastic bag beside him, tossed it up lightly, and caught it easily, as expected from someone with a rank A in agility.

“You really ought to eat something,” he added casually. “Or at least blink more often. You’ve been staring at the void like it owes you money.”

That earned him a slow, sideways glare.

Kariya’s voice rasped. “Where did you even get that?”

“This?” Assassin responded, dangling the moist skewer of chicken coated in a thick layer of dark brown tare sauce. 

“Snatched it from a stall while you were spacing out. I figured I had about 20 seconds before it was time to get you back up. I’m very fast.”

He took another bite, crunching through grilled cartilage with zero shame. Then, after a moment, he spoke.

“Want some, Kariya?”

Kariya looked away.

Assassin shrugged, unfazed by his master’s somewhat rude refusal. “Suit yourself. Your loss, these… hmm, how do you say it? Yakitori? Yeah, these yakitori taste amazing.” And so he took another cheerful bite of his stolen goods. 

“He’s acting like such an idiot. Doesn’t he realize the situation we’re in? He thinks he’s in some sort of Horatian farce,” Kariya thought. 

What he’d give just to be able to write properly again. 

Writing had been one of the few joys Kariya had in life. Sure, he hadn’t exactly made an extravagant living off of his short stories and publications. He’d never made much of anything off of them at all. However, despite it all, it’s always been something he enjoyed. Creating worlds of his own, being the master at work, and weaving tales for clients and himself, had been his only escape from the Kafkaesque path that was the life of a Matou. He’d also enjoyed the report he’d made of course but creative writing had always been his passion.

Yet it seemed that even that was something Zouken had seen fit to take from him. First, it started with his fingers trembling, and then…

Wait a minute. 

What did he just call him? His head swiveled back to the happily munching Assassin. 

“What did you just call me?” he spat out, defiantly from his slumped position. 

“Uh… I called you Kariya. That is your name, isn’t it?”

Something about his casual tone grated on Kariya’s nerves.

The nerve! Servants were supposed to call their summoners master, weren’t they? 

That was how it worked. Wasn’t that the bare minimum he deserved after everything he’d gone through?

And despite his indignation, he couldn’t even muster the strength to demand it properly. To get up and yell at this cocky servant’s face like a man.

He could barely sit upright without flopping to his side.

If he couldn’t even get a servant to call him Master, what did that make him? What had he let worms devour him alive for? 

He’d taken disrespect all of his life. From Zouken, Byakuya, and Tokiomi! Especially Tohsaka Tokiomi!

The perfect mage, the perfect husband, the perfect everything. Even now, some of Kariya still wanted to tear him down and leave him as much of a hollowed-out corpse as Kariya had become.

If he couldn’t get his servant to do the bare minimum of calling him master, how was he supposed to win this war? 

“You’re supposed to call me master, aren’t you? I’m the one who summoned you, aren’t I?” he responded weakly. 

Damn it all! He was still drained from the summoning. 

“That you are. I’m not denying that. Sure, by the laws of this war, you are my master. However, I can’t help but sense a bit of disappointment about it. Is this a sore subject?” the assassin exclaimed, his perpetual smile shifting into a more contemplative look. 

“Yes”

“Ahh, I see. Well, sorry to say this, but I don’t intend on calling you master anytime soon. That’s not the kind of contract I want between us.” 

“What are you talking about? You’re a servant… a servant is supposed to obey their master. I summoned you, didn’t I? 

“I’ll obey, of course, so long as whatever you ask for is within reason. If an enemy servant or master attempts to harm you, they’ll die. If I must defend you while you’re weak, then none will harm you. If you need someone to protect that which is important to you, then I’ll do what I shall to protect it.” 

Kariya stayed silent, staring at the servant in front of him.

“But,” he added, swinging his legs idly over the transformer’s edge, “that’s not a real relationship. That’s just an obligation. If we are going to win this war, then…”

He hopped down, the bag of half-finished skewers rustling faintly at his side.

“I’d rather we skip the master-servants stuff.

His voice was relaxed and casual, just as it’d been since he’d been summoned. However, Kariya couldn’t help but feel that there was something strange about it. Just what was he trying to get at?

His servant’s brow twitched,  just for a second. “Look, I know that sounds dumb right now, but…”

A pause.

“I think we’d do better as friends,” Assassin said sincerely as if the notion was the easiest thing in the world.

Kariya scoffed. 

What could he possibly want to be friends with? He may have been blind in one eye, but he could still see. Kariya knew he had nothing to offer to anyone. His body was in ruins, the worms burned like lava to him, even now they still hurt, and he didn’t have a dime to his name. 

He hated it. And he hated how Assassin was looking at him with those golden, hopeful eyes.

“Friends,” he repeated, his voice dry. He paused for a second and gathered his thoughts.

“You can’t be serious.”

Assassin shrugged, hopping right back onto the transformer and digging out another meat stick to chew on. “Sure, I am. Look, I’m not asking you to spill your guts out in the middle of this dingy alleyway and tell me your life story. But I’m also not going to be a bootlicker for you, either. If we’re stuck together, might as well make the best of it, right? Besides, why wouldn’t I want us to be friends? Life is better with people you like than without!?”

Kariya didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

Friends?

No. 

Not when every step he took felt like living on borrowed time.

“You’ll drop that word soon enough,” he muttered. “Once the war starts. When everything started going to hell. The old man told me about the past wars. It always goes to hell. That’s how things with whenever there’s a magus involved.”

It was one of the few things that Zouken explained without mocking him. 

The first grail war in the 1800s had ended before it’d even begun. 

The Second Grail War was nothing but a catastrophe in the 1860s. A Berserker and Assassin, along with their respective masters, had gone on a wild killing spree, forcing the others to intervene. Even then, the disaster had been so bad that by the end of it, there wasn’t even anyone left to claim victory, and the three families had to create stricter rules and bring in the church as overseers as a result. All it’d cost was the lives of over five hundred people. 

The Third Grail War was almost as bad. Somehow Nazis and the Japanese government got involved? Kariya didn’t know how, but it didn’t matter since there’d been an actual winner! It was just too bad the lesser grail had been destroyed during the process. Yet another war with nothing to show for it except ashes and corpses. 

He fondly remembered laughing at the foolishness of all those mages. Dying for selfish causes and getting innocents murdered in the process was all this ritual had amounted to up until now.

What a joke.

Yet his servant only patiently smiled at him, seemingly aware of his inner monologue amid their conversation. 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’ve gone through worse. I’ve been slaughtered my way through more wars than I can count. However, wars always end, the connections we make, on the other hand, don’t always have to.”

Kariya looked at him. He really looked this time. For all the relaxation in Assassin’s posture, there was something in his eyes that didn’t match how he acted.

Something ancient.

Before he could process it, Assassin snapped his fingers. “Right. Now that that’s out of the way, and since we’re being civil… I’ve got something to ask you.”

Kariya narrowed his remaining eye. “What kind of question?”

“So, uh... what kinds of things does Sakura like?” his voice was light, almost sheepish.

That made Kariya stiffen, his spine locking upright before sagging again. Yet again his crippled body had a way of humiliating him at the worst of times. Had he been given some proper rest, he could have at least stood up to him. 

Of course, Assassin immediately noticed.

“Relax,” he added. “I’m not gonna hurt her. I’m just trying to figure out what kind of kid she is. I saw how scared she got from my summoning, and I did say I’d make it up to her… so what does she like? What doesn’t she? Favorite foods, hobbies, that sort of stuff.”

“Why? Why do you care, Assassin?”

Assassin inclined his head and gestured with his hands away from it. “I don’t, in all honesty. I’ve done far worse, but I promised, and I’d like to rectify any bad first impressions. Besides, I can tell she matters to you more than you’re letting on.”

Kariya wanted to look away.

He hated how easily Assassins could say that, how casual he was, how it sounded more like he was talking about the weather than a little girl being tormented. 

But… he hadn’t seen Sakura in ages until today, and she’d been terrified of him for as much as she’d tried to hide it. And today… Today, she looked at him like a stranger she was too polite to stare at.

He didn’t even have the heart to tell her that he was ashamed whenever he looked in the mirror or that sometimes, when he looked at Sakura, the first thought in his head wasn’t her name. 

If he weren’t there, then she would be all alone. He didn’t know what made him utter his next words. Perhaps it was another bout of dissociation, trying to wrap up the conversation as quickly as possible, or something Assassin had said rang true to him.

“...She likes books,” he said finally, his voice teetering above a whisper. The words had slipped before he could rein himself in.

“And sweet things. Even if she never asks for them.” He paused again, pushing back the cracks in his voice before they could come out in the open. 

“She’s a good girl, Assassin,” he finally muttered. 

A silence echoed between the two. 

The Assassin nodded, absorbing the answer with a surprising thoughtfulness, his hand now gripping his chin.

“Books and sweets,” he echoed. “That’s a good start.”

He smiled again, that easygoing nature of his easily slithering back. “Ya know you’re not so bad yourself, Kariya.”

“Don’t call me that, Assassin. You sound like a first-person narrator who thinks he’s being clever.”

“Haha! Well, it looks like I’ve got two bookworms for me to take care of now instead of one! Looks like you’ll need to tell me more, but first, you’ve got to try this yakitori.” 

Combat boots clomped on the ground as Assassin hurriedly approached Kariya. 

“Damn it Assassin I already said I don’t want any, didn’t I? I don’t even like chi-” 

Assassin’s smile vanished.

“Shh. Eyes down. Don’t reach for anything. We’re being watched. Can you stand?” his voice dropped to a whisper, just audible enough for Kariya to hear it over the faint hum of the transformer and vending machine nearby. The darkness of the night cloaked the white-haired master in the shadow of his servant.

What? Someone was making their move already? Now of all times?

That didn’t make any sense! The Grail War wasn’t supposed to start for another two months! Wasn’t he supposed to be one of the first to summon their servants?

“No. I need help, Assassin, can you-”

Kariya barely had time to breathe before Assassin’s arm had wrapped beneath his knees, and the other braced his backside in one smooth motion. 

Kariya’s body had jerked instinctively, trying to pull away, yet his muscles gave no kickback. With Assassin’s strength, he probably hadn’t felt his protests.

“Hold on, you-” 

“Sorry, no time to waste!” 

Assassin once again did not wait for Kariya to finish speaking and immediately took off running.

Bullet shots immediately began flying towards them, whizzing by as each missed their mark. The assassin expertly dodged, weaving in and out of their path while holding his master.

“You idiot, we were supposed to watch!”

“This is our chance to prove ourselves. For lord Rider!” 

Had Kariya had all of his facilities, he might have heard a voice shout as men began to pile onto their location and take aim. 

Assassin’s feet hit the alley wall with a crunch of boot rubber. The material was made with high traction in mind, and it showed as it grounded his swift steps like a hook. 

The torrent of air from the first step alone smacked Kariya like the rise and fall from a roller coaster. 

Kariya could barely even keep up the moment before the next step took them higher.

One foot smashed against one foot planted against a wall, the next pushed them onto a ledge, and then they were in the air as if they’d gotten the power of flight.

From there, Kariya couldn’t tell what else was going on. It was all too much for him. 

Walls rushed past in a blur.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Lightheadedness washed over Kariya Matou like a tidal wave, his thoughts muddied as he tried to keep himself focused, and his vision blurred. 

Lights, shadows, windows, and rooftops all congealed like a mass of nonsensical afterimages. Nothing he saw stayed still long enough for his line of sight to clasp onto. He’d have called the view beautiful if he could stomach all of the foreign sensations rushing into him one after another. 

Finally, their ascent ended with the silent impact of footwear hitting the ground. Thankfully, Assassin hadn’t stumbled or fumbled the landing, otherwise, Kariya was sure he’d be emptying the contents of his stomach. The landing was quite gentle, akin to a feather drifting onto a puddle. 

But even that gentle landing rattled Kariya’s ribs. He coughed sharply, curling inward on instinct.

Assassin immediately and gently set him down behind the white air handling units. The spinning fans hummed quietly.

The assassin moved with fluid, silent steps, circling the rooftop’s edge and scanning for any other incoming threats or new information. 

“They’re still following,” Assassin muttered, eyes narrowing in focus.

“Whoever these jokers are wants us both dead. I caught one of them saying something about a “Lord Rider.” Any chance you know anything about that Kariya?”

“No… I… The war wasn’t even supposed to start for another two months. It’s why Zouken had me summon you so early, to get a leg up on the competition.”

“Wait, what? How early am I?” 

“About two months. Nothing about this makes sense. Assassin, we should just leave!”

“Screw that. They’re just humans, and even then there’s nowhere to run to, we’re homeless, and I can hear them coming up the steps, they’re going to be here in less than a minute.” 

Kariya cursed under his breath. This couldn’t be happening now, he still hadn’t recovered. Did he even have any mana left to spare for Assassin to fight? 

Thoughts of what to do ran through his head, and yet try as he might, he could hardly parse through any of the haphazard schemes his brain came up with, much less generate a full plan from start to finish.

Kariya’s remaining hand clawed at his sleeve, reaching for the worms, ready to call upon the “Blade Wing Worms.” An evolution from the typical Matou crest worms, if they could even be called that. 

In truth, they looked more like horrifying mutations of dragonflies and killer wasps with oversized jaws. They also had the ability to strip fresh meat from bone like a school of blood-frenzied piranha. 

Truly, the Matou family must have the most disgusting magecraft.

However, before his fingers could contact flesh, he felt something wrap around his hand and stop the action midway. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” Assassin spoke his voice low and certain, an amused smirk plastered on his face, “No worms, Kariya.” 

Kariya stared at him, his breath still weak. The rooftop air was thin and tense, with the noise of marching boots and the clattering of unknown enemies.

He hated it. He hated that he had no strength left to give. He was already backed into a corner before the war had even started. Kariya hated that the only thing he was good for was to lie down like some broken doll. He wanted nothing more than to argue or to demand a plan. However, those words never left the recesses of his mind, drowned and tampered by exhaustion, desperation, and the rising of bile of his stomach.

In the end, there was nothing he could do but trust this man he’d only met a few scant hours ago.

He gave him a silent nod.

Assassin’s grip released. He took a step forward, now standing between Kariya and the stairwell like a wall.

“One last thing,” Assassin said, not looking back.

“Before this starts, you should probably know-”

Kariya blinked in confusion, Assassin’s amused smirk now curving into something more predatory. His Assassin’s smile hadn’t changed much, but the atmosphere around him certainly had.

“I’m not human.”

The door burst open.

Chapter Text

Unknown Location

Alisher Bukharov rarely found a moment of simple peace in a Yakuza base, to be honest. The hustle and bustle of gambling, rolling dice, illegal trafficking, negotiations with political figures, and the constant comings and goings of hundreds of people intersecting at the base meant that there was rarely a dull moment.

Today, though, it was quiet. Yet the Uzbek native could not find comfort in the room he currently occupied. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and incense, a strange combination of a sterilized hospital room and traditional shrine.

And in front of him lay a motionless body. It was clearly that of a male body, an elderly man with grayed out hair at first glance, but Alisher had known the man for a couple of years. He may have been an old man, but he had a certain vitality to him that made it feel like he was a virile young man who simply looked old. Alisher had even tried to verify that himself once upon a time after seeing him beat three of his enforcers in a sumo wrestling competition one at a time. He'd secretly cast an investigative magecraft spell for any trace of glamour or magic used to conceal himself, yet all of it came short.

Because, as it turned out, Raiga Fujimura was simply just built that way.

He stared at Raiga for a moment. His body was draped in a fashionable, silken green robe. Raiga's favorite color, if his granddaughter was to be believed.

His skin was pale as a ghost after being deprived of the sun for so long. Months had passed since the man was last awake.

The IV line in his arm, inserted just above a set of rectangular command seals, had been freshly swapped out, the saline solution inside carrying an untraditional faint bluish sheen. The coloring was simply a testament to the latest concoction Alisher had developed to keep the man alive and, most importantly, filled to the brim with mana to sustain his lord.

Alisher's gaze lingered there for a moment. He imagined that few outsiders would question the quality of care Raiga Fujimura received. It'd been professional, constant, meticulous, and above criticism with only the finest of medical professionals, himself, and Lord Rider being allowed to attend to their leader.

But Alisher knew better.

Well… former leader at least. As for their current leader, he was in a league of his own. He was powerful, merciless, and commanded respect. All the things Alisher wanted to be.

Alisher's thoughts were interrupted by the beeps of machines monitoring Raiga's vital signs. He checked the data, scanning the data with practiced ease. The old man's heart rate was steady, his breathing calm. It was a fragile balance, one that Alisher and a team of doctors and nurses worked hard to maintain.

Opposite him sat a figure cloaked in shadow. Yet even through the shadow, Alisher could make out the faint outline of his appearance.

He had traditional robes not native to Japan, but they clung to him in a manner that screamed both regal and readiness for bloodshed. He did not slouch, not even for a single second of respite or for slight relaxation. Rings glistened on one of every two fingers, each seemingly made up of priceless gems lost to time. A glass of chilled pomegranate sharbat dangled between his fingers, for he did not partake in the consumption of alcohol under any circumstances.

Alisher imagined that the Tohsakas would have relished the opportunity to meet such a man, if only to inspect the quality of the gems wrapped around his fingers.

He'd also remembered the feeling that'd crept up his spine when Raiga had summoned the figure before him a year ago.

Sheer awe.

After all, that was just the kind of man Lord Rider was.

"I used to respect him, as you know," Lord Rider finally spoke, brown eyes shining without enthusiasm before he took a silent sip of his sharbat.

"As did I," Alisher spoke. His accent betrayed foreign birth as Central Asia's soft and throaty vowels had been polished with time into something mundane.

"Hmph. No need for pretenses here, kinsman. I am aware of the scorn you suffered in your time amongst this organization."

Alisher couldn't help but clench his fists at the reminder. The man never raised his voice, yet somehow, he always knew the exact spot to prod. He wasn't mad at Lord Rider. No, far from it, but rather at the years and indignities that had chipped away at his pride.

Lord Rider had been the one who'd seen him rise from an exiled mage working for the dredges of society to a position of power, for none other shared Lord Rider's council as he did.

Yet it irked him all the same.

"Perhaps once. I don't see the point in dwelling on it anymore, though. Things are different now."

Lord Rider paused for a moment, absorbing the information.

"Do you have any regrets over what we've wrought?" the foreign lord asked. It wasn't an accusation, just a simple question. His eyes turned towards Raiga, studying the ebb and flow of his rising and falling chest. Then his eyes traveled towards the side of his head where a deep gash lay hidden beneath patches of hair.

If Alisher's glasses weren't enchanted as sight-enhancing mystic codes, he might have missed the flicker of tension around Lord Rider's jaw. It'd passed so quickly, Alisher wondered if he truly saw it at all or if his mind had simply played a trick on him in an attempt to escape the conversation.

"He was your "Oyabun", was he not?"

Still, no response.

The mage downed the rest of his own drink and set the glass aside with a tired sigh.

"For a time, I thought I did. When I was cast out from the association, I had nowhere to go. In all honesty, working for one group after another this far east was never something I imagined for myself…" his finger idly twirled at the edge of his glass.

Just when had they started meeting like this? Visiting this comatose man every week felt a bit macabre, in all honesty.

"Go on, speak your inner thoughts. I shalln't fault you for any that I may have contention with," Lord Rider spoke, slightly lifting his glass as if giving the mage permission.

Quite a rich thought in all honesty. After all, Raiga had found himself in this situation because he voiced thoughts of guilt and regret that Lord Rider took issue with.

What was it that Lord Rider said that day?

"To call upon an Amir such as I yet tremble before the altar of sacrifice... Throughout my livelihood, I've endured many sins. However, cowardice and weakness are the only heresy I shan't suffer."

But if he knew his lord well enough, then what he'd say next would not be punished.

"Then… no. Not truly. At the end of the day, the Yakuza is a job, nothing more. They certainly let me know that as well. It may sound petty, but for as long as I've worked for them here, I'd never felt more alone; it was like being back in the clocktower all over again. The brass knew me as a foreigner, and they made sure I knew that they knew as well."

He'd endured the stares, the dismissive glances, patronizing tones, and more in his time here and at the clock tower.

Alisher despised it.

Lord Rider finally stirred, his voice low like a teacher gently but firmly leading his student to an answer. "Yet you've now outlived them."

"I suppose I have, my lord."

A pause stretched between them, and Alisher dared not attempt to fill it.

Lord Rider finally stood from his chair, his figure tall and lean.

"You are of my people, are you not? My blood runs through your veins, do they not?"

Alisher blinked.

"I am."

"Then, as I've decreed before, do not address me as Lord Rider as the rest do when we are by our lonesome." He turned slightly, gaze lingering on the comatose Raiga one last time.

"Speak my name with the pride of our forebearers. The name our people pay their respects to, Shuja-ud-"

Just as the Rider servant began shaping the final syllables upon his tongue, a knock came at the door, and he halted.

Somewhere atop a rooftop

The door burst open.

From behind his hiding spot, Kariya felt he could reasonably see what was going on without being in the line of fire. He couldn't help but feel pangs of anxiety as men marched in.

He'd never seen a fight to the death before.

As he peeked out, he managed to parse details of the men that'd lined up like infantry in front of Assassin, all of whom were armed to the teeth with knives, firearms, and other gear. He also noticed that while few of them had discernible features, they did have some things in common, such as tattoos and missing pinky fingers. Some even had up to three missing!

His lone eye noted that they all wore suits that were certainly worth far more than he'd been able to afford.

Wait a minute.

Suits, tattoos, firearms, and missing fingers? Where had he heard of those before?

"Ahh, so it looks like we've got quite a bit of company here, don't we? Sadly for you guys, although it's not exactly the best idea to try and sneak up on an Assassin. I don't expect any of you guys to be friendly, though," Assassin spoke, arms loosely outstretched.

The response was silent.

Then the rooftop exploded into chaos.

"Guess not!"

Bullets screeched through the air, shattering the silence. Muzzle flashes lit up the black of the night in rapid bursts. Kariya flinched instinctively, tussling himself further behind the air handling unit. His heart pounded fiercely, and his throat went dry.

When he looked back, he hadn't known what to expect. Perhaps Assassin's body riddled with smoking holes?

Yet Assassin was already gone.

He moved like a blur, artfully dodging gunshots from the gunmen with ease. Yet that wasn't the most shocking thing of all.

No, what'd surprised Kariya the most was Assassin smashing his fist into the nearest assailant, while contorting his body mid-way like a serpent to evade a knife strike, and slip back to the offensive.

Yet, he was able to note the flicker of surprise on Assassin's typically smirking face. The man he'd struck was hit with enough force to burst a pipe, staggered back to his feet, spat a glob of blood, and stood back up.

Kariya's mind reeled at the sight. Something like that should have shattered a human like a piece of glass. What the hell was keeping them up?

"Tougher than you should be…"Assassin stated as he pivoted around a swinging pipe meant for his orbital bone, ducked a punch, and then paused.

Karyia's eye widened.

The punch had struck hard enough to create visible cracks in the brick wall behind Assassin.

Assassin's lips pursed into a thin line, a flicker of amusement, before he slid down to avoid another attack.

"Much tougher!" Assassin spoke as he entered the fray once more.

"A blessing from Lord Rider himself! Not that you'll be alive long enough to witness it!"

"Sounds like a noble phantasm. You guys definitely have something to do with the Grail War, so let's see if I can't beat some answers out of you then!" The assassin replied, his tone dismissive, as he side-stepped another lunge, clearly having anticipated the attack.

Was his servant having fun with this? And just who were these guys?

"Damn it. Who are these guys? I know I've heard of them before." Kariya's mind raced to try and fill in the blanks of his knowledge. He hadn't learned much training under Zouken, but learning to sense magical energy was one of them.

And that was just the frustrating part. He could sense very faint amounts of energy coming from them, but it didn't feel like the magic he knew, and certainly shouldn't have been enough to cast reinforcement for this long.

Firearms in Japan?

Missing fingers?

Suits?

Tattoos?

Realization reared its ugly head.

He felt his stomach twist as his mind scrambled to catch up.

"Yakuza. Oh my god, they're actual Yakuza. And they're in the Grail War. How? Why? How are they this strong?"

But no Yakuza should hit like that. No regular human should be able to punch through brick, nor take hits that would snap most men's spines and get right back up.

Kariya turned, ready to shout his discovery out to his servant, only to find his words catch in his throat.

Two of the Yakuza men had grabbed onto Assassin, who seemed content to let it happen, only feigning enough struggle not to trip any alarms.

The first gunman rushed forward, kukri machete gleaming under the moonlight. His arms tensed, muscles bulged with an unknown power, as he raised the blade to carve into Assassin's skull in twain.

The machete dove down, but it never reached its target, for the Assassin had disappeared.

One moment, Assassin had been seemingly "caught" between two Yakuza, feigning desperate struggles.

Next, the faint glisten of pasture green scales rippled where smooth human flesh had been.

The machete-wielding Yakuza soldier froze, unable to react in time, eyes wide in shock as the creature's head snapped towards him. Fangs, curved like yellowish sickles, flashed and buried deep into his forearm, a thick snap echoing as fangs pierced through flesh and crushed bone. It didn't end there for the poor man, for he let out a blood-curdling scream.

But Assassin was not idle for even a second. He pulled free, his body twisted unnaturally, slipping backward. His shape quickly melded back into the humanoid form Kariya had been growing accustomed to, his lips curled into a smug smirk.

The machete man fell back, clutching his bleeding arm, and panic surged where there had once been manic determination before. Kariya saw the moment pure animalistic terror overrode whatever conditioning or training the man might have had, especially with the way his feet clumsily fumbled into a retreat while covering his wounded forearm.

"God damn it Yasu get your ass back here! You're the one who shot first to begin with!" one of the Yakuza screamed in fury.

"Oh? And here I thought you guys were gonna carve me up like a fish?" His voice dripped with amusement as his golden eyes traced the path of the fleeing man running into the depths of the staircase they'd all come through.

"Seems that the only thing that's left now is my master, myself, and fourteen soon-to-be corpses."

The remaining Yakuza hesitated.

For a second, the entire rooftop stilled.

And then he lunged forward, blurring into the next wave of attackers. A flurry of blows landed on one Yakuza soldier after another, swiftly knocking many down. And yet that was not the limit of his offense.

For every strike he sent out or parried, he'd transform into a serpent once more to either strike or avoid a strike altogether, constantly keeping the group unable to ground themselves in the fight.

Another Yakuza rushed in with a scream, slashing wildly with a chain. Assassin hadn't even bothered to try and catch it and instead transformed once again, coiling around the arch of the swinging chain mid-air and sinking his fangs into his throat as the end of his serpent form's tail whipped onto the face of another assailant with a wet, bone-shattering crack.

Assassin straightened now back to his human form once more and tilted his head lazily toward Kariya, a cheerful thumbs up pointed in his direction.

"See? No worms needed."

Kariya couldn't help but feel his eye twitch, and his mouth drop slightly.

He wondered, distantly, if Aoi was asleep by now, if she was safe or dreaming, if she would be furious at him for this.

He'd never seen such carnage before. At this point, Assassin had easily killed at least four Yakuza, and it pained Kariya to admit that it wasn't a sight he was ready for.

Kariya's stomach twisted. This was bloodshed on a scale he'd never imagined; movies and books could only do such gruesomeness so much justice compared to the real thing. Yet somewhere, deep inside, a tiny part of him felt an odd sense of relief. His Servant was powerful.

For a split second, Assassin's smirk softened. A simple flicker at the edge of his lips that vanished as soon as it came. His gaze lingered on his master a beat longer than necessary, and when he turned back to the remaining enemies, the playful edge in his movements eased itself. Assassins' strikes became more crisp, and just a touch less showy.

And yet, somehow, or perhaps, Kariya grimly thought, unluckily, one sole trembling Yakuza member has managed to slip behind Assassin, shotgun cocked and shuddering in his grip.

Perhaps Assassin was still in a playful mood?

The assassin had kicked one Yakuza assailant straight through a wall before swiveling around to the now trembling shotgun wielder.

"A shotgun? Seriously? You're impressive, sure, but you can't seriously think that'll do anything to me. How about I do you a favor? Just put the gun down, and we can tal-"

BANG.

Shotgun pellets hit dead center, hurling Assassin's body backward through the brick parapet of the roof, the stone cracking under the force, and dust emitting from the now Assassin-sized hole that occupied it.

Kariya only managed a glimpse of his Assassin's face as he was sent flying. The look of shocked pain was etched onto his face.

His lone eye darted toward the jagged hole where his Servant had been blasted clean through, his mind torn between disbelief and raw terror. He was a Servant! That should have been nothing for a servant. Were they not only magically reinforced but also in possession of enhanced weapons?

"Great. Now I'm going to get my head chopped off by a bunch of super powered Yakuza before the war even begins because my servant got cocky"

He could hear the Yakuza quickly begin to regroup.

"Fan out, his master couldn't have gone far! We don't leave until they're both dead!! We have our own to honor after this!"

Well, at least they had some sense of honor.

"Check the other staircase! We can sweep the vents!"

Kariya's trembling fingers curled inward. He tried to make an effort to move his legs once more, but moving his legs felt more akin to trying to move boulders strapped to himself, so it was all for naught. He still hadn't recovered enough! He bit down a quiet cry of frustration and the indignity of it all.

If he'd had at least one more hour, he was sure he could have just run away at this point.

And then a yell of genuine anger and confusion ripped through the air.

"What the actual fuck?!"

Before Kariya could even attempt to investigate, a low snarl reverberated through the air, followed by a strong gust of wind that slammed into everyone present.

Kariya's breath hitched as the Yakuza around him flinched, jerking their guns toward the dust. For a single solitary moment, no one moved. The shotgun wielder who'd fired the last shot took a slow step backward.

Kariya peeked from his hiding spot. The sight alone was enough to make his stomach drop and his mouth run dry. The Yakuza, despite the showcase of their capability and bravery, stepped back in shock. Some started screaming as the full form broke free from the rubble.

Scales. Yet this time, the very nature of these scales was different.

Instead of the slick and simple design of the previous serpent form, which had been utilized, something entirely different yet still distinctly serpentine stood now.

Massive, pasture-green scales, shimmering with unnatural luster, and dense muscle tissue sprang into view under the light of the moon. The Yakuza stumbled back, some screaming outright, as the full form pulled free from its landing site.

Assassin had once again transformed.

"Alright," Assassin murmured, voice roughened half-laugh, half-growl. "That one stung."

His body stretched long and sinuous, jet black scales rippled with the brute muscle his human and serpent forms had lacked, his head crowned by a pair of jagged horns. Sharp teeth gleamed under pulled-back lips, unnatural slit eyes glowing gold as they had before. Assassin exhaled once, and the air shuddered, a withering groan vibrated from his throat deep and virile, but most importantly, threatening.

"Forget beating answers out of you lot. I've learned all I need to know anyway. It may not have been by much, but I did notice that for each one of you that went down, the stronger the rest of you got. A pretty nifty trick, but it's nowhere near enough to beat a proper servant like me, or at least not enough yet. Now, no more threats to my summoner and no more playing around."

Assassin inched forward with a low snarl. Four muscular legs slowly brought him closer to the Yakuza in front of him, and wings spread out. Its span was so far and wide that Kariya could no longer see the Yakuza and was only met with the back of his recently transformed servant.

Screams echoed through the air, but even they were quickly silenced.

Kariya wasn't sure how long the massacre had lasted. Perhaps no more than a minute? Maybe less.

He didn't watch. He couldn't.

It wasn't the thought of his dragonic servant killing them that undid him. No, it was the sounds, the way the screams blurred into the noise of swine being improperly slaughtered and left for dead. He squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his palm and stump over his eardrums, choking back a cry as the rooftop echoed with the screams of the forsaken.

Kariya felt his stomach lurch. For a moment, he thought he could smell the rot of the worm pit again and the writhing beneath his skin.

No, this wasn't his fault. This was war. It was their fault, not his!

They'd attacked him and Assassin when they were minding their own business! Assassin hadn't even intended to attack them when he'd picked up on their presence!

He was a good person.

Right?

A tap on his shoulder.



"You alright there, Kariya?" his servant whispered. At least the fighting was over now.

Kariya attempted to open his lone eye, but a hand was gently placed upon it, obscuring his vision once more.

"Let's not look at that just yet," Assassin murmured.

Before he knew it, Assassin had his arm wrapped beneath him once again, and they were falling to the ground once more.

The landing was a lot softer on his insides this time, at least, he was gently set down, and his eye was uncovered. Kariya took a look at his slightly blood-soaked serpent-dragon hybrid servant. Aside from some blotches of blood on his fingers and lips, he seemed completely unharmed.

Assassin raised an eyebrow at the Matou mage.

"I'm okay, Assassin," Kariya said, and the pale youth smiled.

"That's good to hear," he said, reaching into his back pocket.

"Especially because-" Assassin drawled, his grin widening as he lifted a tight wad of Japanese Yen.

"-We've got hotel money now!"

He must have looted from one of the bodies. Assassin shook the wad of bills; the rustle of the paper in the wind was enough for Kariya to know it certainly wasn't a minuscule amount either.

Kariya blinked once, then twice, and then promptly gave up. He was too exhausted to argue with his serpent-dragon hybrid servant over his blood money.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. It's not like they're going to be using it anymore, and we're homeless. We can't pay for a place to stay with the power of friendship."

"What in the world did I summon?"

Unknown Location

"Enter," Lord Rider said.

At the now-opened door stood another Yakuza lieutenant by the name of Ichigo, if Alisher remembered correctly. A hardy and competent man if he ever knew one.

"Good evening, Lord Rider. We have news from the field to report." Ichigo bowed his head low as he spoke.

"The Sato unit discovered an enemy servant and their master. From what we've gathered, one seems to be an Assassin servant, and the master is… impaired."

"Impaired? In what way?"

"Details are scarce, but he seemed to be an invalid. When what remained of the Sato unit spotted the master attempted to move his master to another location. But the master could not get up, and the servant had to carry him."

"I see. Elaborate. What has befallen the Sato unit? Were they beset upon by an Assassin?"

"No, my lord, Shinto engaged and-"

The glass of sharbat shattered, blood red liquid dripping down Lord Rider's clenched fist.

"They were ordered to observe, nothing more. By what right does a lowly "Shatei" disobey my decree?"

Ichigo did not respond. In Lord Rider's world, rank and merit were everything. To disobey without results was akin to treason in his eyes.

Lord Rider sighed.

"Apologies, the fault does not lie with you. Finish your report, Ichigo. What of the rest of the Sato unit?"

Ichigo nodded and began regaling Lord Rider of the events that transpired. Alisher couldn't help but be slightly impressed by the blind gumption of Shinto. Perhaps if the herd had thinned a bit more before their unfortunate confrontation, then the Sato unit might have been able to kill the master at the very least.

And so Ichigo regaled both of them with the events of the night. From the chase up to the rooftop, their battle, Shinto fleeing from the battle, and the end of the unit.

Shinto had gotten off with more than just an injured forearm and shattered pride. The Assassin's serpent form contained a lethal venom. It was slowly and painfully spreading through Shinto's body. Ichigo assured them that the doctors treating him were confident that they'd be able to save his life, given time.

"No. He may have left the field, but the field has not left him. His actions have done nought but bring his unit to ruin, reveal us, and now he seeks the mercy by way of poison."

He stood up, brown eyes cutting past the shadows that had obscured him until now.

"Such insolence shall not be permitted. Alisher, you shall accompany me to Shinto and bear witness as I separate him from both bed and head," he decreed.

"Yes, my lord," Alisher and Ichigo muttered.

"Then there remains one subject. Did the rest of their charge bear fruit?"

"Yes, my lord, the deed is done. It was a difficult task, especially in finding members willing to carry out this mission in particular."

"Show me"

Ichigo nodded sharply and clapped his hands together. He stepped aside as another Yakuza underling walked in carrying a bloody sack and placed it upon the table between them with a slight tremble.

Lord Rider's fingers, still damp and reddened by the remnants of his shattered sharbat, began to untie the knot at the sack's mouth. He peeled the fabric back with the patience of a sniper waiting for his target.

Out rolled two heads onto the table.

One belonged to a middle-aged man, his features now lax in death, and facial wrinkles etched into his brow.

The other was smaller, far more delicate, with chestnut kissed hair, and belonged to that of a young girl.

Alisher felt his jaw clench. He didn't need to ask who they were. Every member of the Yakuza in Fuyuki knew. A memory flickered of the girl bringing Raiga tea, and the old man laughing too loudly at the unfunny jokes his granddaughter would make.

He forced those images down.

Lord Rider closed his eyes and muttered a silent prayer.

They were the only family Raiga had after all.

"Dispose of the remains. The river will take them. Next, gather the remains of the Sato unit and bestow them proper burial rights as befits your traditions." Rider commanded quietly. Ichigo bowed deeply.

"My lord, I will do it."

Lord Rider turned away from the table,

"Alisher," he said without looking back, "our business concludes here. Let us go forth."

Alisher inclined his head. "Yes, my Lor-"

Alisher caught himself just as the title was about to slip out of his lips.

Lord Rider paused at the threshold, turning his head to face his fellow countryman.

"As I have told you," he said softly, "use my name, kinsman."

His lips curled ever so slightly, eyes like polished bronze catching the faint glow of the lanterns.

"Shuja-ud-din Timur!. Founder of the Timurid empire…" he exhaled before materializing a curved sword that seemed to emerge from thin air, and gripped it with a firm hold.

"And we are not a people who suffer loose ends."

"Yes, Lord Timur!"

Chapter Text

True Name: Shuja-ud-din Timur

Nicknames: Timur the lame, Tamerlane, The prince of destruction, Lord Rider

Species: Human

Class: Rider

Gender: Male

Blood Type: O+

Place Of Origin: Uzbekistan, Central Asia

Birthday: April 9th

Age: 68

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Likes: Competence, learned men, culture, geopolitics, reading, horse meat, and mare's milk

Dislikes: Weakness, his men not eating horse meat or mare's milk with him, arrogance, corruption, the current state of Central Asia.

Natural Enemy: Gilgamesh, Kiritsugu, Iskandar

Alternate Class: Archer

Fan Casting Voice Actor: Jeremy Irons (Dub), Kazuhiko Inoue (Sub)

Theme Songs: Darth Revan Theme (MEDIEVAL), He Is Sahn-Uzal (My personal pick)

Parameters:

Strength: B​	Endurance: B-​
​	​
Agility: B​	Mana: D+​
​	​
Luck: C​	Noble Phantasm: B++​
​	​

Class Skills:

Riding (A+ Rank): Timur possesses exceptional mastery over all types of mounts and vehicles, reflecting his prowess as a nomad of the steppe and his time leading from horseback across many terrains. This skill allows him to effectively command and ride any steed or vehicle with unparalleled skill.

Magic Resistance (C Rank): In life, Timur is said to have slaughtered up to 5% of the world's population in his conquests. Timur's massacres were of such scale that many of those he butchered dedicated their final breaths with incomprehensible curses towards him. However, none of these curses reached Timur, who would unknowingly only become more resistant to curses and spells directed at him, indirectly saving him from many assassination attempts. Higher-level Thaumaturgy and Greater Rituals may still affect him.

Personal Skills:

Military Tactics (C+ Rank): As an accomplished general and tactician, Timur can formulate battle plans and adapt to changing combat situations. This skill enhances the effectiveness of his Noble Phantasms, especially those involving large-scale engagements.

Charisma (B+ Rank): Timur's commanding presence and leadership inspire loyalty among his troops and fear in his enemies. This skill boosts the morale and combat effectiveness of his allies while potentially intimidating opponents. A reflection of his ability to go from a minor noble turned bandit with only seven companions to one of the most infamous figures in human history.

Noble Phantasm:

Gur-e Amir: The Conqueror's Eternal Legacy (B++ Rank):
Anti-Army

This Noble Phantasm manifests as a ███████ representation of the skulls of ██████ that Timur would █████ of his ██████ ███████. Upon activation, it projects an imposing, ███████ structure that grants him both █████████ and █████████ capabilities. While within its ██████, Timur's ███████ and █████████ are ████████, and he can ██████ ██████ anyone who has █████ their ███████ to him. The █████████'s presence also instills ████, ███████ opponents, and ██████ their █████████.

Banner of the steppe (B Rank)
Support

A Noble Phantasm that imbues ordinary men and their weapon of choice with a fragment of the prowess of Timur's vast armies, while not truly transforming them into pseudo servants, it brings them close enough to the realms of servants to compete. However, the blessing is finite: the more soldiers it embues with power, the thinner its power is spread. In small bands, men can rival low-tier Servants. In larger numbers, they function more akin to a large tide of iron, and the pulse of conquest beats within their hearts. Less powerful, but no less deadly.

Mount: The Four Cradles

A gilded war chariot pulled by a unit of four spectral warhorses named after and representing the winds of the steppes that he grew up in. Each horse was taken from a region Timur conquered or sacked that is considered a cradle of civilization (Persian, Turkic, Iraqi, Indian) and is outfitted according to its region of origin.

Took a while to get this done, but we now have Timur's stat sheet. The inspiration I'm drawing from for this character includes, but isn't limited to, Mordekaiser (League of Legends), Floch Forster (Attack On Titan), Johan Liebert (Monster)

What are your thoughts on Timur? Is there anything I can do to improve the presentation of these stat sheets?

Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Text

November 25th, Matou Estate

It'd been a week since Sakura had last seen Kariya.

She wasn't sure what made her feel worse, missing him or the thought that he might look even worse when he returns.

She would admit without hesitation that she missed him, even though his new appearance terrified her. The last time the young Matou girl heard of him was Zouken's account of when assailants attacked Kariya and Assassin.

It was fascinating to hear. To say the least, it was also a bit scary. He could transform into a serpent and a dragon. She assumed that probably meant he wasn't human as well.

She hadn't seen a peek of him ever since their first meeting either. It'd been a terrifying experience, but he seemed nice enough.

Normally, a child who didn't have to go to school for a whole week would rejoice at the thought. But, for Sakura, it'd been nothing more than a boring and isolating experience.

She had no friends to spend time with. Her grandfather had forbidden her from entering the Matou library or reading its contents since she arrived all those years ago. Shinji was away studying abroad, so she couldn't reach her aloof "brother." Byakuya mostly acted like she didn't exist, fixated on his responsibilities or reaching the bottom of a bottle.

And so that's why she found herself here, crouched in the hallway outside Zouken's study, pressing one ear to the door. The floor was made of aged wood that creaked if you touched it wrong, but she'd since learned which planks to avoid, hence the awkward footing of her diminutive feet.

"As long as I'm quiet… grandfather and his guest shouldn't be able to hear me."

She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be anywhere, in all honesty, but restlessness had a way of making the most timid of souls bold once in a while.

It wouldn't have been the first time she'd eavesdropped on a conversation. Sometimes she'd listen in on Byakuya whenever he called Shinji, or listen in on the odd phone calls her grandfather had. She preferred the former, as most of the time she couldn't understand what the latter had been talking about. It was usually on something about "Bonds", "Equity markets", and "dividend yields". She didn't know what most of that stuff meant, but she doubted that her grandfather was the type to value bonds!

Just like her father.

Today, though, the conversation her grandfather was drawn into especially drew her attention. Not because of the subject, but because of who he was talking to.

Assassin!

She pressed her ear further into the wall. The muffled voices behind the door flickered in and out, but she could hear well enough.

"Kariya's sleeping. "Again," Assassin said with a dry tone. She heard a faint scrape, likely from a chair, as he adjusted himself.

"At this rate, I'll end up naming and chatting with the rats in the walls just to have someone to talk to who actually knows a bit about what I am. I've always found it a bit weird to make friends and never tell them I'm a literal snake in disguise."

The Assassin loudly sighed and began speaking once more, and Sakura leaned in closer, careful not to let the creaks of the floorboard betray her.

"He wasn't much of a talker before, but now it's like trying to talk to a corpse. He's been a lot better these past few days, but still!"

Sakura's teeth sank into her lip.

"Is he making fun of Kariya? Maybe he wasn't nice?"

The Matou elder offered no comment.

Assassin sighed and spoke once more, voice now somewhat subdued. "That wasn't fair. It's not his fault. Between the summoning and everything else going on with him, his body's just doing all it can to keep up."

Sakura blinked. That was certainly new. She'd hardly known the Assassin, but he'd seemed confident, extroverted, always joking. Now he sounded regretful.

"In truth, Kariya's resilience continues to be a pleasant surprise to me," Zouken said with a dry tone.

"Most men in his state would have crumbled long ago. Yet here he is, dragging that ruined body around. Like a dog too stupid to lie down and die. Of course, if he'd committed to the Matou arts sooner, he'd be in better shape, but you already knew that, didn't you, Assassin? Even so, I've spent more than enough time trying to keep him together since the war was delayed. It's a miracle he's still standing after all that."

"Speaking of the Matou arts, I've been doing a bit of research on my own. Kariya didn't tell me much beyond the basics, but I've been around this world long enough to piece some things together. Clever little things, those are. They feed him the mana that allows him to act as an anchor for me, but they also consume energy."

Grandfather's reply was little more than a dry chuckle. "You sound almost admiring."

"Hardly, I've done worse," Assassin said. "Just my observations. It explains a lot. Especially how he's provided me mana while not being a proper mage."

"And tell me, how did you find all this out? Kariya may be a Matou, but I doubt he could spit out more than some bitter remarks about our magecraft."

"I ate one of those little shi-, err shiny worms."

Huh?

"Gross!" Sakura thought. Who would want to eat worms, didn't he know where they'd been? She almost pulled away from the door.

Almost.

She pushed down the thoughts of revulsion to focus more on the conversation, she had to hear more.

"Haha, well that's certainly one way of finding out about their mana!" Zouken cackled. She heard the thunking of wood. Most likely, the mahogany desk grandfather had. It was rare, but sometimes, rather than being the savage beast he was when training her, he could be strangely affable at times

"Sometimes."

"Oh, come off it. We all know by now I'm not human. A worm is far from the weirdest thing I've eaten in my literal thousands of years of life. Besides, it did provide a bit of mana for me to burn," Assassin responded.

"If you've taken to eating our crest worms for sustenance, do remember they're already part of your Master's internal ecosystem. You might as well gnaw on his kidneys while you're at it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Assassin paused, letting the silence seep in. Then he spoke once more, his voice took on a more serious tone than the typically jovial servant she'd seen thus far.

"I want to reinforce this estate. Enhance the wards already in place around the perimeter. Set up some familiars, that sort of stuff. Nothing too flashy. Kariya and I may not be in this household, but everyone knows the Matous are sending a player to the war. This means someone will come looking around eventually. From what I can tell, this place is the source of Kariya's capabilities as my summoner." The assassin finished with a sharp tap.

Sakura heard a slithering sound following up, far too smooth to be fabric, yet not like the crest worms. Still, it was awfully close, and that was enough to make Sakura shiver.

"These are one of mine," Assassin explained. "See, my familiars are... personalized in a sense. They function like drones rather than living beings. I need to part with a small amount of mana, and I can create them to be my living scouts. They're essentially pieces of me in a sense. Because of that, they're more versatile, and more importantly, discreet than the average familiar. If anyone crosses the boundary, I'll know."

"I suppose that explains the mana flickers in the west wing. I thought we had rats again."

"Technically, you still do," Assassin quipped.

Grandfather let out a dry hum. "How modern of you. I imagine the Einzberns might have something to say about your drones. And you expect me to approve of your installations without oversight?"

A thump of his walking cane reverberated throughout the room.

"Don't mistake these theatrics of yours for a position of autonomy, Assassin. In this house, I decide what goes. If you want to place those pets of yours on my property, then you'd better have something to offer as well."

Grandfather didn't even sound angry, more amused than anything.

"I assumed that'd be the case, but luckily enough, I think we can work through that. I'm sure there's a lot someone as old as I am can offer. In addition, none of my snakes will last longer than a couple of days at the most anyway. Of course, I would have installed them the day I got here. But someone made sure I was homeless."

Grandfather didn't rise to the bait: "Yet you seem to be doing well enough, especially with the hotel the two of you have nestled in."

"We managed, but that doesn't mean I have to like it, and a hotel does not count as a home."

"Hmm… I'll consider your suggestion," Zouken stated, slightly dismissive.

Assassin deadpanned, "That usually means no."

"It means not now," the old man corrected. "I have guests arriving soon. Rather important ones, and I'd rather not greet them with a frustrated and bored servant slinking around my garden."

The pale man snorted at that.

"Since you're free," he continued, "entertain the girl. She's been breathing down my door since you arrived."

Sakura's breath hitched at the sudden revelation. He knew? How? She was sure she hadn't made a singular peep!

"Ahh, that's why I've been censoring myself, although I think you're taking the term Servant a bit too literally."

The door slid before Sakura could even hear a footstep. She flinched and nearly stumbled back, but Assassin was already there, leaning against the hinges with an amused grin. He looked slightly different from the last time she'd seen him, having swapped out his long coat for a regular one instead.

"Come on in, little eavesdropper," he said.

Sakura hesitated. Her heart beat hard in her chest, caught between fear and embarrassment.

"I don't bite," he added, "unless I have to. And honestly, I doubt you're that much of a troublemaker for that."

She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be comforting, but something about his tone made her feel like it was meant to put her at ease.

He stepped back, and Sakura rose to her feet, then stepped past him into the dimly lit room stacked with books, letters, and other documents she didn't dare investigate.

Zouken said nothing as he slipped past her down the hall, muttering something about preparations and tea.

"So you're always this sneaky?" he asked casually. "Or is there a special occasion I don't know about?"

Sakura didn't respond. She wasn't sure what to expect, and she didn't want to say anything stupid. Instead, she shifted her hands, curling her fingers into the seams of her skirt.

The servant didn't comment on it. Instead, he crouched slightly to meet her at eye level.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

She looked away.

"I guess that's fair," Assassin sighed.

"Alright, kid," he said, turning toward the outer corridor. "Let's get you out of here. You need some air, and I need to be literally anywhere but here."

Sakura hesitated for a moment. "Will Grandfather be mad at me?"

He barked a laugh. "If he cared, then I'm sure he would have said something before he left."

He waved her along and began walking without waiting for her answer. She lingered a moment longer, then followed, quiet as a shadow. The hallway stretched long and dim, dust particles shining through the sunlight that peeked through the expensive noren drapes of the manor. When they reached the outer gates, the Assassin paused. He turned, golden eyes bearing themselves into her purple ones.

"Rules for the day," he said, raising his index finger. "You don't ask anything, I don't wanna answer. If something scares you, tell me. If you wanna stop for something dumb, I'll pretend I didn't think it was dumb. And if you want to go home early, just tell me. Sound good?"

Sakura blinked at him, surprised.

"Understood," she said.

The city was chilly today.

It had rained the night before, and the streets still wore a thin sheen of water that reflected the overcast sky. Cars hummed, and storefronts seemed to blink awake one by one as they passed. Sakura kept her hands tucked into her jacket's pockets, not saying much as they walked past the morning crowd.

Assassin, meanwhile, walked beside her, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed if slightly shivering from the chilly winds. It seemed that he didn't take to the cold well, even if he tried not to show it. He hadn't said much since they'd left the estate, beyond some mild statements about how amazed he was at how the world had changed since he'd been gone.

Yet she couldn't help but feel odd about the situation. She'd been used to being ignored. Her teachers, of course, had tried to reach out, but it'd been their job to do so. Why was Assassin spending time with her when he could be anywhere else? She doubted Zouken would have seriously forced him to watch over her.

She glanced up at him, then quickly swiveled her head away.

He noticed, of course. "You good?" he asked, not stopping. She should have expected that from an assassin.

Sakura hesitated, then nodded.

"Good," he said. "Because I've got this whole list of stuff to do and I'd hate to backtrack on it."

"You… have a list?" she asked, confused.

"Nah," he replied. "But I figured that would make me sound more like a responsible adult than a giant snake winging it if I said that."

He said it with easy confidence, as if being alive was enough for him. Sakura couldn't help but feel her mouth lift slightly at the corners.

Their first stop was a bookstore named The Papertrail in the Mount Miyama region of Fuyuki.

It was tucked into a quiet street, sandwiched between a laundromat and a restaurant. The sign out front was crooked, and the windows showed their age with various uncleaned water marks. A bell above the door jingled as they stepped in.

"Afternoon," a middle-aged man murmured from behind the counter.

Assassin gave him a brief nod, then gestured for Sakura.

Assassin scanned the titles as if he were reading a menu.

He stopped, squinting at a table full of manga near the register. "So, what's popular nowadays anyway? I'm probably about a decade behind now," he chattered.

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. Did he want to know what people liked? Or was he just asking to fill the air? She doubted she was much of a riveting conversation partner after all.

Assassin flicked through a paperback, reading through the pages with exaggerated confusion.

"Also, what's with all these magic girl things that I keep seeing? I asked Kariya about them, but he said he prefers regular novels over that sort of stuff, but more of a Dostoevsky guy, so I'm hoping to find one called Poor Folks."

The adopted Matou girl looked down at her mud-stained shoes shyly and mumbled, "They're popular. People at my school liked them too, "

"Oh?" he replied, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"Do you like them as well, Sakura?"

She nodded shyly, unsure of how to take the sudden questioning.

"I like…I like Hikaru. She tries really hard, even when everyone else is stronger."

It'd taken a bit more coaxing from Assassin before she eventually told him who Hikaru was and the series she belonged to.

He'd even gone so far as to ask her about the other pieces she could recognize. Unfamiliar with the attention she was receiving or the seemingly never-ending questions, Sakura decided to try and answer as best she could.

"That one," she pointed toward another shelf, "is about a monkey fighter who was an alien sent to conquer Earth as a baby but became a good guy. And that one…" she paused for a moment, self-consciousness bubbling to the surface in the form of a small blush.

Were her answers just annoying at this point? Did Assassin really care about learning more, or was he just saying all of this to be polite?

After another glance toward Assassin, whose golden eyes peered at her violet ones, she decided to finish her statement.

"And that one's about is about trainers that can catch these cartoon animals called Pokémon."

"Ahh, so that's this generation's Shakespeare? I see, a bit of a silly concept though, no?"

"They're not silly," she added quietly. "I think they're nice."

"Then I guess I'd better get to picking something out, right?"

The assassin didn't linger and eventually drifted to another shelf, trailing his index finger along the plastic-wrapped and paper covers.

Sakura didn't follow her chaperone immediately. She stayed in place, her eyes instead sliding toward another corner of the store where the manga series were alphabetized.

She knew exactly where what she was looking for would be, if they had it at least.

She remembered borrowing the first volume of Magic Knight Rayearth from the school library months ago, and it'd been on her mind ever since. She'd loved everything about it! It even prompted her to work up the courage to ask the librarian if the sequels were in.

That was a month ago.

It wasn't a big deal. Not really. But she'd kept thinking about it for days afterward, and even reread it on occasion.

Hikaru, Umi, and Fuu. A magical world. Girls her age who get to save people!

She could imagine it now. In her wildest dreams, she'd even come up with her own magical girl name, Blossom Blizard!

Her eyes wandered toward the shelf, searching.

"Hm. That one's got a mecha on the front," Assassin said aloud, reappearing as if from nowhere.

"Can't say I ever got into that genre, though. I'm just about wrapping up, so we'll leave in a few, okay?"

Sakura nodded and looked away quickly,

Without a word, she stepped closer to the shelf. Just enough to see.

Magic Knight Rayearth, Volume Two.

Her eyes flicked toward her uncle's golden-eyed servant, but he wasn't looking her way. He had already shifted his focus, checking out the opposite side of the aisle. He playfully turned a book upside down, as if it were printed in a language he didn't understand.

He was being silly, but not in a way that embarrassed her, at least.

It took her a full minute of staring before she reached for the book.

Then she pulled her hand back.

The assassin turned just slightly.

"If you're done here, there's a spot I've been meaning to try. I tried to take Kariya once, but he wasn't keen on it. You ready for the next spot?"

She nodded, and he smiled in response.

As they walked out of the bookstore, she saw the clerk hand him a small bag. The receipt rustled as he stuffed it into his pocket. He didn't say anything and quietly tucked it into his black coat.

Assassin seemingly couldn't resist buying a small box of wagashi at the first sight of the beautiful design of seasonal sweets shaped like chrysanthemums and autumn leaves. He'd also taken a few sticks of dango from the shop. However, he didn't hold onto the box. Instead, he rounded a corner and then handed it off to a small snake, most likely one of his familiars. As it balanced the box on top of its head and left, he quipped that the sweets would be for later.

To her slight dismay, he didn't offer her any.

They continued their impromptu trek.

After a while, narrow streets became a broader area near a small stream.

They walked along a row of small houses and shops. There, an old Chinese woman tended her potted plants outside her humble abode.

"Madam Zhao," he greeted her, tipping his head slightly.

She looked up, her lined face lighting with recognition. "Back again? I thought I felt trouble in the air."

"I bring both, as always," he replied smoothly, going forward to wrap the elderly woman in a cheerful hug. "This one's new."

He ruffled Sakura's hair. She couldn't stop herself from flinching and pulling back from the sudden touch.

Madam Zhao squinted at her, then smiled gently. "She's adorable. Where'd you find this one?"

"Haha, well, I'd like to say it's more of her family finding me. I'm just taking care of her for the day, but she's good company," he said, letting his cheerful nature shine.

Zhao snorted and returned to trimming a stubborn bonsai tree.

They stayed a little while longer. Assassin chatted with the old woman in soft Mandarin that Sakura couldn't follow.

Sakura couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. How this servant walked, talked, and acted as if there wasn't a single thing weighing him down somewhat irked her. Who was he to so easily walk through life as he did while she and Kariya were being devoured by worms night and day? She buried that feeling as quickly as it came. It wouldn't be fair of her to think that of him.

Eventually, he turned to Sakura again. "Let's keep moving."

Madam Zhao gave them both a small wave as they walked away.

"Who was she?" Sakura asked once they were out of earshot.

"Just an acquaintance I met whenever I was looking to kill time," Assassin said.

"What about Uncle Kariya?"

"Nothing to worry about, I'm not leaving Kariya undefended whenever I do this. I've got familars on the lookout, so he's safe."

"Oh."

"Nothing to worry about. Hey, did you know that Madam Zhao's actually-"

He stopped mid-sentence. A sharp series of snarls and barks pierced the air from across the pair.

A large brown Tosa dog, held by a black and red leash attached to a metal pole outside a tea shop, had locked its gaze on them or specifically, on Assassin.

It barked and snarled once more and began lunging against the leash, its teeth bared, ready to lock its jaws if only the leash would give way. The sudden lunge startled Sakura, and she took a hasty step behind Assassin.

When she brought her gaze up to her chaperone of the day, he wasn't phased at all. If anything, he seemed mostly annoyed, given the soft tsk that escaped from his lips.

The shop's owner rushed out with apologies, but she hadn't paid much attention to it. The owner tugged at the leash and scolded the dog in a hushed tone, trying in vain to get it to calm down. However, the Tosa didn't budge as they walked away again.

"Does that happen often?"

"Animals don't like me much," he said casually. "Annoying, but it just means they have good instincts. Sort of like when birds fly away before an earthquake."

"But that's just for dangerous stuff." She'd even seen some birds caw and sometimes peck at her grandfather before! He was never pleased by their antics and always made sure they eventually found their way into the pit. "Exactly. "Anyways," he added, changing the subject swiftly, "did you know Madam Zhao is the mother of a Chinese mob boss? He's got this whole setup apparently in Beijing."

Sakura blinked, not sure if she heard him right.

"You're joking."

"Not in the slightest. It's actually not the first time I've met people like that. You see-"

The sun had long since set beneath the Fuyuki's sights by the time they reached a pond to sit and rest. Streetlights from walkways filled the area with an orange light, and the occasional rustle of leaves filled the air.

Sakura stood next to the Assassin by the pond, her violet hair fluttering slightly as the wind flowed throughout the air. She also fiddled with a small flat stone in her hand that she'd picked up.

Assassin was a few feet away, crouched near the bank with a stone in hand that he tossed quickly and watched as it skipped four times before its momentum was halted and it sank beneath the surface with a gentle plop.

Sakura waited for his nod before making her attempt, although it wouldn't have been her first try; they'd been skipping rocks for the past ten minutes, or in her case, attempting to. She flicked her wrist and launched the rock from her tiny hands, but only succeeded in a singular skip before it sank.

"Dang, better luck next time, I guess. Here, let me show you a trick." He bent down beside her and plucked another stone from the ground. "When you're holding the rock, you need to hold it with your thumb on top, middle finger on the bottom, yeah, just like that, then wrap your pointer finger at the edge."

She arched her hand back, mirroring his grip, ready to try again.

"Okay, now throw it like usual, but this time try and try to make it spin as you go, same throw, just make your flick a bit deeper."

Following his instructions, she put his tips into practice.

One

Two

Plop!

Two skips!

"Nice job, Sakura!" he said, a twinge of glee touching upon his tone.

"Thank you, Assassin. I guess I need to practice a bit more, though."

This was… different than what she was used to. They'd been gone from the Matou estate for hours up to now. And beyond the occasional writhing of the worms from within, the day had been pleasant enough. Yet she knew it wouldn't last.

Sakura felt her heart tighten at the thought of going back. Good things never seemed to last, at least not for her. She cast a shy glance at Assassin, watching him casually pick another and send it skipping effortlessly, he'd hit six this time.

"Did you learn that from somewhere?" she asked softly. If nothing else, she could at least distract herself for a bit longer before they left.

"Hmm?" Assassin glanced back, mildly surprised at her initiating conversation this time. "Rock skipping? Yeah, it was a long time ago, if I remember correctly, it was in Switzerland, right next to the Alps. A couple of old friends of mine showed me how. Honestly, you're actually doing better than I was when I started. It's a bit embarrassing, but back then I was a really slow learner," He gave a nostalgic albeit slightly sad smile, then motioned to the ground with a tilt.

"Want to try again?"

She hesitated before picking a small, flat stone and tossing it once more toward the water.

One

Two

Plop!

Two skips once more.

"Nice try," he chuckled gently. "You'll get me next time."

Next time. She wanted to ask if there would be a next time, but held back.

Instead, she asked, "Will you put your snakes around our house?"

"If Zouken agrees," he replied. "And if not, I might do it anyway." He looked at her and asked, "Worried?"

Sakura shook her head, frowning slightly as she twisted the hem of her skirt. But she didn't say anything more.

"What's the point? When this ends, he'll leave. Just like Kariya. Just like everyone else."

She had never asked to be swept up in this. She hadn't even expected him to say yes when she was suddenly thrust upon him. And she certainly hadn't expected it to feel... like something. Something nice, maybe? But it felt real.

Which meant it wouldn't last.

Assassin sat on top of a large rock, sighing and lazily stretching his arms behind his head like a cat waking up from a nap.

"You're a pretty quiet kid."

"Was that supposed to be a question?"

"So what do you usually do when you're not eavesdropping on old farts like me and your grandpa?"

What does she do nowadays? She certainly hadn't studied with her newfound free time, nor did she have the capability to indulge in any hobbies without supervision. She mostly read anything she found and watched TV. Still, she didn't think that was anything meaningful.

"This is so embarrassing."

"...Nothing really," she finally eked out, for what was she supposed to say? Sakura hoped he wouldn't make fun of her for it.

Assassin's brow raised at her answer, "What about your grandfather? What's he teaching you?"

This time, she looked down, unwilling to look him in the eye. "He doesn't teach me anything. Just a little bit, but we don't have lessons."

He tossed another pebble.

One

Two

Plop!

"No magecraft? Field layers? Theories? What about the age of gods?" his tone came out like a knife cutting through butter.

She shook her head. So much of what he'd said had gone over her head. "I think grandfather was supposed to, but he never did. I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning."

"So what the hell is the point of the worm…" Then, he abruptly stopped mid-sentence. "Never mind."

"So you weren't originally a part of the Matous then, right? I asked Kariya about it, but he was pretty vague."

Sakura froze. Kariya told him? Or had he figured this out on his own?

"...No. My family, before this, gave me away. They said I was going to be adopted by a better mage clan. That it was a good thing because I'd be the heir," she felt her stomach sink the more she spoke. She felt a wave of discomfort. Gripping the sides of her skirt tighter, bitter memories rushed back to her. She wanted the interrogation to just stop already.

"What were their names?"

"I… I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please, Assassin," the young Matou pleaded. The night had been pleasant, and she didn't want to relive those memories anymore than she already had.

Mercifully, Assassin relented.

"Okay, I'll stop, no need to worry, Sakura," he raised his hands in gentle surrender. "Thank you."

"Ahh, I guess we can keep skipping rocks for now." he made way for another rock, ready to return to the quiet, pleasantness he seemed to enjoy.

And then a sharp sound broke it, wet sniffling, and high-pitched.

Across the pond, a man was dragging a small boy by the arm. He couldn't have been much older than she was. When she focused her vision, she noticed that the boy was fair-skinned, thin, with brown eyes and brown hair.

The man pulling him seemed to be a young adult who wore a purple jacket, a chain at his waist, and had orange hair. He also wore a crooked grin that accentuated his youthful features.

The child sobbed and resisted, but was yanked harder, all the while he seemed to be attempting to hide a small grin. She also saw a passing car slow down, but didn't stop, and instead passed right by them. It seemed no one was paying attention to the scene at hand.

Sakura felt her chest tighten.

"…Are they siblings?" she asked.

Assassin's gaze followed suit. For a moment, he studied the man and the boy.

"No," he said with a straightforward tone. "They don't look alike."

The man disappeared around a corner, still dragging the child.

Sakura stared after them.

"Are you going to do anything?"

Assassin's tone didn't change. "Nah."

She looked up at him, confused. He'd seemed kind to her before. Had something changed?

He shrugged. "I don't know who that is, so it's none of our business. What humans want to do to each other doesn't mean much to me."

"But he-"

"Is not my problem." His voice was firm. "If it were you or Kariya, it'd be a different story."

He stood and brushed himself.

"But…"

"Trust me," Assassin said calmly but firmly, guiding her gently away from the scene. "It's none of our business, I doubt anything to worry about is going on, though. Besides, we've had enough excitement today."

She allowed herself to be steered away, even if Assassin had been careful not to physically touch her this time, casting one last uncertain glance back at the sobbing child. Something in her chest twisted, but Assassin's certainty silenced any doubts she might have had.

Matou Estate

The estate loomed into view underneath the buzz of street lamps, and so Sakura unconsciously slowed her pace as the pair drew closer. The earlier scene she had witnessed slowly faded from her mind. It became a soft memory, hidden behind thoughts of skipping stones.

Coming back, she felt like walking into an execution at this moment.

She didn't want the day to end yet. It had felt... strange, but not in a bad way. Still, she knew better than to voice that.

Assassin walked leisurely in front of her, his pace slowing to match her own. Just as they reached the front gate, he stopped suddenly, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he stared ahead.

Three unfamiliar figures were in the courtyard, gathered loosely behind the gateway of the estate.

"Probably the guests' grandfather was talking about before. They look like they're leaving, though."

The first was a stern-looking elderly man in purple robes reminiscent of a priest, hands held behind his back, and a dignified posture. Besides him was a pale, stylish woman with flowing white hair that shone like snow under the light of the moon. She looked akin to an expensive porcelain doll, entirely out of place in the home of the Matou's.

Then Sakura's gaze settled briefly upon the third guest. He seemed to be a tall, albeit lanky man wearing a tailored red suit with a distinctly westernized flair. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself. Her brows knit in concentration. Could that be…?

Assassin moved in that moment, blocking her view of the mystery guests, and crucially, before her mind could put two and two together.

"Sorry," he murmured, "Thought I saw something."

"Anyway," Assassin said suddenly, breaking the awkward tension before it settled.

"Close your eyes. I've got a surprise for you," he chirped. She blinked, hesitating briefly before putting her hands over her eyes.

She heard rustling leaves and then a gentle command to open her eyes. Assassin now stood with a paper bag in hand and the box of wagashi he'd given away.

He knelt slightly, putting himself at eye-level with her, and offered them both forward.

"For you," he said simply. "I noticed you looking at it earlier." Sakura gently collapsed the two objects with careful fingers, peeking inside the bag. Her breath caught as she saw the cover of Magic Knight Rayearth, Volume Two! Had he noticed her looking at it before? Why would he even go out of his way to give it to her?

Her fingers tightened just slightly around the edges of the book and box. A feeling she wasn't accustomed to bloomed in her chest. It felt… nice. What could she even say?

"Th...thank you," she whispered, tiny but genuine.

He chuckled, "No need to thank me. I said I'd make things up to you from before, right?"

"From before? Wait… the summoning!"

Memories of the event flooded her mind in an instant. Fear from the initial ritual and how it had been replaced with trepidatious calm afterwards when Assassin had taken form. She never expected him to make good on the words he imparted to her that day.

"I thought he was just being polite!"

"Oh, and before I forget, don't forget to thank Kariya as well, he's the one who let me know a bit about what you liked!"

She shook her head, dragging herself back to the present. A feeling to voice something overtook her, but what could she even say?

He smiled, a quiet relief softening his expression. "Today was nice. It's been a long while since I got to talk like this. When you're as old as I am, it's always been a bit disappointing to talk to people while hiding the fact you're not human, it was… refreshing to be able to do that."

A moment of silence lingered, comfortable and precious for Sakura, before he gently broke it again.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked, voice carefully.

Sakura hesitated briefly before nodding shyly, holding the gifts to her chest. "Mhm."

"Good," he said warmly.

"Do you want me to visit again?"

His eyes shone with a twinkle that she couldn't quite put her finger on. However, Sakura Matou didn't hesitate this time. Her reply was quicker and clearer.

"…Yes."

"Then I guess that's that," he said with finality. "I'll come by again."

The heavy wooden doors of the Matou estate creaked open, and Zouken's dry, rasping voice drifted out to them.

"Sakura," he called simply. "It's late. Come inside. You as well, Assassin, I've given your request some thought, and I have some thoughts."

Sakura realized the guests had left. They must have slipped away during their talk. However, now, their presence felt like a distant memory.

The assassin shot the elder a look. Then, he stood tall and strolled forward with her toward the gates. Before they crossed it, his hand reached out to ruffle her hair once more, but he stopped before it reached.

"Sorry. May I?"

She nodded and allowed the intruding hand to rest on her head. She still couldn't help but flinch. But this time, instead of pulling away, Sakura leaned in, even as it eventually pulled back. It filled her with a warmth she hadn't felt in so long, a warmth that resonated with her more deeply than words ever could.

They walked toward the gates, her new gifts cradled to her chest as if they were precious treasures.

"I think today was a good day."

Chapter Text

It'd been three weeks since Sakura had properly met Assassin now.

Three weeks since he'd promised to visit her again.

Ever since, Assassin had kept true to his word about revisiting her often. Strangely, no one in the household ever commented on his visits. Neither Grandfather nor Byakuya had anything to say about it. Not even the worms that occasionally wriggled beneath her skin. The only time she'd ever seen them acknowledge Assassin's existence was when he'd been the one to initiate interactions.

Typically, it was limited to whenever he'd come by to replace the familiars that could no longer sustain themselves with the mana he'd split off or to speak with the Matou patriarch. They were mostly out of sight and out of mind for the most part, although once in a while she'd see one slip through the gardens and wave at her with its tail! However, the youngest Matou noted that Assassin didn't seem to like the Matou elder much.

Once, Sakura saw them in the same room while her grandfather was sifting through documents, only to find the assassin standing right beside him, making faces behind his back.

He didn't even blink.

It was as if he didn't exist and just popped in whenever he wanted!

She sometimes wondered if she'd made him up. That he was simply an imaginary friend that she'd conjured up after one too many days in the worm pit. She hoped he would never find out about her training, though. She couldn't stand the thought of him looking at her or Kariya any differently than he did now. The feelings of disgust, the idea of him looking at them and finding them tainted, was not something she wanted to entertain.

But it didn't make sense to her. She'd felt his hand upon her head, seen him animatedly move from one thing to another, and heard him as he spoke.

Occasionally, he didn't even announce himself when he visited or let her know when he'd be coming. He could just as easily be found humming to himself in the garden or poking around the kitchen muttering about rice cookers and how much technology has changed. Sometimes he'd just appear out of nowhere to greet her as if he were a natural part of the household.

She didn't understand it, but Assassin told her to keep it a secret, just between them. So she kept her mouth closed on the subject.

Now that she thought about it, Byakuya had actually encountered Assassin once before, though, ironically, the public head of the Matou family had little patience for anything remotely magical. On a day when Assassin and the old man had been examining the bounded field for improvements, Assassin had gone into the kitchen to fetch some coffee and snacks. He'd attempted to casually greet Byakuya, only for the middle-aged Matou to scowl briefly and simply walked straight past. He hadn't said a word, not even a real gesture of acknowledgement.

It seemed that he had gotten to Assassin if the frustrated scowl on his face was anything to go by.

Then the next day, she heard Byakuya drunkenly yelling because someone had moved his desk lamp. He'd always been particular about where everything was.

That same day, anytime he went back to his room, something would change. His bed would be tilted the wrong way, his shirts would be buttoned backwards, and even his bottle of weird-smelling hair gel he and Shinji liked, was upside down.

He'd even yelled at their new maid, but she didn't know anything.

She said nothing when he'd gone inside to fix his belongings, nor when Assassin had popped up out of nowhere and shot her a cheeky wink.[/H2]

And so it'd been a shock when Assassin had once again come to pick her up for another outing while her grandfather had left for some business he hadn't deigned to tell her about. However, this time, Assassin had come with company.

“Aww, you should have told me she was this adorable,” the woman beside her friend cooed as she reached to pinch Sakura’s cheeks. Short and slender, the woman had light skin and black eyes. Her hair shone black and reached down to her shoulders. The woman also wore a basic white dress shirt and black dress pants.

Sakura didn’t like the unwarranted advance and quickly snatched ownership of her face back as soon as the fingers locked together. 

“Rukia, I told you she was shy, so quit it,” the Assassin chided. 

“You didn’t say she was this bashful, that’s so adorable!” Sakura felt like shutting her ears to Rukia’s high-pitched voice.

“Anyway,” Assassin continued, grinning as if nothing happened, “sorry for the short notice, Sakura, but the three of us are going out to town!”

“Huh?” She blinked up at him. 

Somehow, without even realizing it, she’d been roped into what she could only assume was supposed to be their date. 

One, she’d been third-wheeled and dragged into.

They couldn’t have been gone longer than an hour. First, the three had visited a cafe dubbed Green Bottle Coffee Fuyuki. Sakura didn’t know what to order, so Assassin just ordered for her. When they’d left, he’d made sure to grab a bag of brioche donuts that he’d happily munched on as they continued their walk. Except, he’d spent a good chunk of the time speaking with Rukia and wasn’t as attentive to her as he’d been before. 

The black haired woman clung close to Assassin, occasionally laughing too loudly at something he said. She didn't want to admit it, but something about seeing them together made her chest feel tight, even when Assassin and Rukia occasionally tried to coax her into the conversation.

Sakura trailed behind them, hands clasped tightly in front of her, as Assassin and Rukia discussed things she couldn’t understand, such as places they'd been, people they’d met, and stories that didn’t include her.

She felt invisible again, like back at school, sitting quietly while everyone else laughed and talked. She didn't like this feeling. 

“It's not fair! I wish he’d brought Kariya instead, I haven’t seen him since the summoning!” The young Matou kept those thoughts to herself as they ushered her into the park. 

"So," Rukia began, voice playful, "is this your usual routine these days? Babysitting?"

Sakura stiffened slightly, eyes fixed downward, and Assassin chuckled softly. "It's not babysitting," he said gently, glancing briefly at Sakura. "She’s a good kid. I wouldn’t spend the time with her if I didn’t enjoy it as well. Now go on, Sakura, have some fun, play a bit, I’ll keep an eye out for ya from here."

Something about how he said it made her heart squeeze. It should have made her happy, but it didn’t.

Why was that?

The duo moved toward a small seating area across the playground while Sakura went forward. She wasn’t sure what to do, nor did she know anyone she could talk to.  

So she instead distracted herself with the swing set and switched to the slides on repeat. That, at least, she could comfortably do on her own. Still, the girl wished she had someone to share this with. 

True to his word, Assassin kept an eye out for her, given his frequent glances and waves at her, as he simultaneously chatted with Rukia. 

After over half an hour of the same routine, Sakura quickly grew bored with it all and just contented herself with sitting on the swing set and gazing at the sunset. 

Then, across the park, something familiar caught her eye.

She looked up and felt her heart racing.

There, under a set of monkey bars, were two people she recognized immediately, Aoi and Rin Tohsaka.

Her mother and sister.

Sakura saw them smiling warmly at each other. Aoi was gently brushing Rin's hair and dust from her face with a smile after Rin had fallen off the set trying to make it all the way across. Rin, meanwhile, was laughing, like she didn't have a care in the world.

 Sakura couldn't look away, she felt her breath catch in her throat. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

They looked... happy.

It felt like being stabbed in the heart. 

It felt like the day she’d been expelled all over again. 

They were talking to each other as well, but she couldn’t hear. Of course, they hadn’t noticed that Sakura was watching them either. 

She peered on, frozen on the swing, as Rin gently swatted her mother’s hand away and began cleaning herself up with a napkin from Aoi’s purse. 

She was still laughing. Sakura felt her breath begin to quicken, no longer breathing through her nostrils. 

The sound was bright and clear, and Sakura could hear it even from the distance between them. Her eyes felt like they were burning.

Why?

Why did they get to be happy? Why was she sitting here alone? Why didn’t they care? Why did Rin get to be first and herself last? 

Sakura Matou wanted to scream.

The worms writhed in excitement, further violating what little space she had at this moment.

She quickly turned away, trying desperately to wipe away the growing blurriness in her vision. And so, fueled by grief and pain, Sakura did the one thing she could. 

She ran.

She scrambled towards the Assassin without so much as a thought. Assassin immediately noticed and swiftly stood to meet her halfway with Rukia in tow. The violet-eyed girl's breath came in desperate, panicked gasps. 

“Sakura?” he spoke gently, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

The Matou shook her head rapidly, unable to properly put events into words, and not trusting her voice. 

"Hey," he whispered, his hand moved toward her shoulder, “May I?” 

A faint nod was all that was needed for a comforting hand to clamp itself firmly on her tiny shoulder.

“Talk to me, little dragon.”

Violet-eyes stayed stubbornly set to the grass.

"Come on," Rukia whined. "She's probably just tired."

Sakura saw Assassin roll his eyes, and for some reason, it put her at ease, just a bit. Yet, even so, it didn’t stop the hurt within. 

It hurt. It always hurts. 

“I hate it. I hate this feeling so much, and I don’t know what to do with it.” Her fingers curled around the hem of her skirt. 

Assassin smoothly stood and turned back to Rukia, his silver brows furrowed in slight disappointment. “Sorry, Rukia, looks like I need to take a rain check today. Call me later?”

Rukia opened her mouth to protest, but something in Assassin’s gaze put a stop to it. Instead, she shrugged.

"Fine, have it your way," she said dismissively. "I'll see you later. Good luck."

“Pfft, I don’t even have a phone, so much for that one-night stand. Anyways, Sakura, do you feel like you can talk about what happened?” the servant spoke quietly as Rukia left his eyeline. 

Sakura still didn’t respond, desperately reigning in unspilled tears. 

“Was it something you saw?” he asked quietly. “Someone?”

A single, desperate nod was all she could muster, for she was trembling now. Assassin’s eyes flicked through the park quickly, looking for anything that might have caused this current state of events. They landed on the general direction of Aoi and Rin, but if he knew anything about it, he didn’t comment.

"Sakura, if you wanna leave, just let me know. It’s no issue for me, okay?" Assassin leaned in slightly closer, gently brushing strands of hair from her face away with his other hand.

She hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Can... can we go, Assassin, please? I don’t want to be here anymore," she finally managed.

“Right. Alright then, let's go.” Arms stretched out tentatively, his face etched with what seemed to be a tinge of unease as to whether or not the invitation for closer physical contact would be accepted. However, Sakura quickly dispelled those doubts, inching towards Assassin before finally wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into the crook of his neck. 

He wrapped his arms around her, one gently clapping the back of her head and the other finding itself behind her knees for balance. 

“Why does this feel so… warm?”

Assassin didn’t take the main road to the estate. Rather, a quieter path that wound between empty streets and dim storefronts was chosen instead. Nothing was uttered during the walk, and he simply kept a leisurely pace. Sakura said nothing as well, preferring the silent comfort she’d found in the servant, not daring to look up to see the world as the uncomfortable feeling in her chest and burning eyes slowly dissipated. 

Eventually, he did stop and set his charge near a bench, to her mild disappointment. They had stopped at the edge of a quiet riverside promenade. Location-wise, they shouldn’t be too far from the harbor. The area was mostly empty, save for some elderly people and the occasional young adult walking their dogs. The sun had also set lower than before, casting the area in soft hues of orange and yellow light. 

Her uncle’s servant walked over to the bench nestled beneath a set of trees, sat, and stretched his arms and legs out. 

“You hungry?”

“A little.”

“I think we still have those donuts from earlier.”

Words tumbled clumsily, attempting to pronounce foreign syllables, “The uhh… br-brioche ones?” 

“The very same. Here, take some.”

She hesitated, then gave a tiny nod before digging a hand into the brown bag, grabbing a couple of pieces before taking a seat next to Assassin.

"Sakura," he finally spoke, "about today...sorry if I made you uncomfortable by bringing Rukia along. You may think I didn’t notice, but I did see that you weren’t comfortable. I didn’t mean for you to feel left out, either."

She shook her head quickly, "It’s okay, it's not your fault," she murmured. "I'm sorry... I'm just… not used to people." She didn’t understand. Sakura knew that Assassin wasn’t human; he’d even said it himself. So how was he so…

"You don’t have to apologize for that either," he reassured gently. "I’m usually a bit more careful, but I guess I have been pretty restless since I was summoned."

A silence filled the air. Assassin’s face scrunched into deep thought. He looked as if he was about to make some sort of reluctant choice.

“Screw it! Tell you what. I’ll cut you a deal right here and now. Ask me anything you want, anything at all, so long as you tell me about what happened at the park. No holds barred. The only condition is… You can’t ask me that, which would reveal my true name.”

The suddenness and context of the proposal shocked Sakura. Assassin had always been secretive about who he was exactly, only ever dropping hints here and there like a hunter enticing its prey. 

“Is he doing this to make me feel better? Why? Why does he care? Is this all some sort of trick by grandfather?”

It would have made sense. Sakura knew she had nothing to offer anyone. No lineage she could call upon, no possession of wealth, nor was she some great beauty. And yet despite all of those thoughts of self-doubt, she didn’t want to reject it. Sakura wanted to be able to speak to someone for once. But what to ask? 

And so violet eyes simply stared into golden eyes.

The birds chirped. 

Leaves rustled. 

Dogs barked and yipped. 

Elderly men and women conversed, passing along silent nothings between each other. 

“What was you’re family like, Assassin?”

Assassin’s mouth stopped mid-bite into his donut. 

“I don’t think he expected that,” a strange sort of satisfaction bubbled seeing her uncle’s servant gobsmacked. 

“Well… I didn’t expect that to be honest. Huh! Where to begin?” Assassin finished off his donut and dug into the bag only to find it empty. Growling in annoyance, the bag was crushed and stuffed into a pocket with a sigh. 

“Ahh, I guess in a sense I’ve technically had two families. Hey, don’t give me that look! I’ll tell you about both, alright. I guess for the first one… You have to understand, I didn’t start special. No divine birth, special powers, and I certainly wasn’t part of some phantasmal species when I was born, just a regular snake that hatched from an egg.” 

Sakura listened with bated breath, a mix of fascination and anxiety converging within. 

“The thing about snakes, though, is that they don’t really raise their kids, or stick around for that matter. As soon as the eggs were laid, we were on our own. It was just… survival. There was nothing unique about me or my birth family. We were just snakes. I had no connection to my siblings; heck, I’m pretty sure I saw one trying to eat the smallest one. I haven’t seen another snake that looked like me in centuries, so I’m more than likely the last of my species of snake.”

The very last? That must have been lonely. She felt her free hand reach for his own, but pulled it back before it could get far. 

“And then one day it all changed. I was blessed with eternal youth, the ability to go on for eternity without fear, so long as nothing killed me, too bad that didn’t work out well since I’m a servant now. It’s funny, you know there’s… someone I’d like to meet in this grail war if I can, it’s a long shot but I never got the chance to apologize to them, haha.” 

His fingers interlocked with one another, and he leaned forward slightly into his knees whilst keeping his eyes locked onto Sakura’s own. 

“And then I eventually found my…second family, I guess you could call them. I had a father and siblings. Snakes don’t do love, we’re not even supposed to have anything that qualifies as real emotions. But I learned. I’m a slow learner, but I learn. I loved them. I think my siblings loved me even if I couldn’t understand them most of the time. I thought my father loved me, like I loved him.” 

She could see his brow and fingers tightening harder than before. 

“I was wrong. He didn’t love me. He just saw me for my strength, because at the time, I was at the very height of power. I’d gotten strong, really strong, stronger than any random snake had any right to be. Even the gods themselves pissed their pants when they say saw me.” His cocky smirk had returned by the end. 

“Did he… abandon you?” 

Maybe he was just like her? She didn’t know whether or not to feel bad for hoping that was the case. 

The smirk vanished instantly. “Not exactly. Back then, I didn’t realize what I was doing. I should have known better. I was never a son. Just a weapon and shield. I… I loved him. Almost gave him my name. But in the end, I was just something controllable. More’s the fool of me for thinking otherwise.” His voice contained barely restrained anger, as Sakura interpreted. 

Even so, fascination blossomed. Who was this Assassin exactly? So much of his story fit into certain myths that she knew, and yet he did things that also didn’t make sense in the context of a heroic spirit. And what did he mean by giving his true name? Wouldn’t his father already have known that? Even so, she felt a pang of sympathy for the pale man. 

“I’m sorry, Assassin. I hope… did it ever get better?” She asked. 

“The hurt never went away, if that’s what you mean. Even now, if I ever see him again, I’ll kill him. Though I think by now he might be stronger than me, I’m very far from my peak after all. Anyways, the hurt… It’s still here, but I learned and I’ve learned how to be happy with what I’ve got, or more specifically, what I’d eventually get. It’s part of why I love you humans, after all, your species taught me,” he shot her a charming smile. 

Love? The child thought she knew what it was, but no longer. 

“Now then, I think someone owes me a little something now, don’t they?” 

Sakura felt a slight jolt down her back. Her fingers were nervously gripping the hem of her skirt again. Assassin’s openness made her feel obligated, and she had been the one to ask him in the first place, thus agreeing to his proposition. However, sharing her own pain and feelings? It felt like an insurmountable task. 

Her molars dug into the inside of her cheek, as if it would buy silence.

Yet there was something about Assassin’s patience, his sincere attention, and the simple fact that she wanted to be able to share with someone, anyone who might understand, that finally made the secret she’d been told to keep to herself for three years escape from her mouth. 

“I…I used to be a Tohsaka,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible, but of course, the Assassin picked it up; she saw his eyes, golden like the shiniest of treasures, widen and mouth drop slightly. Most likely, he already knew the significance of the Tohsakas' involvement in the Holy Grail War. 

“They… they gave me to Zouken. My father said it was so I would become heir, but…” She trailed off softly. It was the first time she could remember using her grandfather’s proper name rather than his familial title since she was given to the Matou’s.

Sakura swallowed, trying to steady her voice before continuing, even quieter now. 

“I think…” She stopped once more for a moment to gather herself. 

“It hurts. It hurts so much. I want it to stop.”

“I think… they just didn’t want me anymore. I wasn’t good enough, not like Rin, my sister, was. So they made me become a Matou.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, and her knees shook under the pressure. Yet even so, tears dared not slip out. 

Assassin spoke softly, slowly, and leaned slightly in as if to shield her from any unwanted gaze. “Is that what happened at the park? Did one of them say anything to you?”

“No. I saw them… Rin and my… mom. They were playing… and laughing, without me.” 

The Matou assassin didn’t reply right away, seemingly compartmentalizing the information.

“Did they see you?” he asked gently.

She shook her head.

“Did you want them to?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Maybe. No. I don’t think it would’ve mattered, I’ve spoken with Rin before, but I don’t think she cared. And I haven’t spoken to my mom in a long time. I’ve only spoken to father once after…” The sentence died in her throat before she could hope to complete it.

“It’s alright, Sakura. Take you’re time. If you don’t feel ready to tell me everything, that’s fine. Just know that I’m here for you. Both you and Kariya.” his arm snaked its way around her shoulder and gently pulled her close. She didn’t resist as she would have before and instead leaned into it, burying her head into his ribs and wrapping dainty arms around his chest. 

Her face twisted upon her next question, “Is it bad if I don’t forgive them?”

“I… don’t think that’s for me to decide. For now, I reserve judgment until I have all the information needed to make a proper decision, but at the same time, I think… You are entitled to feel whatever you like.” 

Sakura shifted her position, instead leaning the base of her chin onto his ribcage and blinking up at him. 

“But… they’re my family,” she whispered uncertainly, yet even it felt hollow to her own ears.

“You’re allowed to be angry,” he continued. “You're allowed to feel hurt, to deny people excuses, to hate, to love, to resent, and more. You’re feelings on the matter, whatever they may be, are valid, and I don’t think any obligation to forgive anyone for their sake.” 

What was this feeling that Sakura felt now? Was this servant saying it was okay? To not be the bigger person? To feel whatever she wanted to feel? She didn’t know what to expect. When Sakura had spoken with Kariya so long ago, on the eve of his vow to her, he implored her to forgive her mother and sister, that they loved her and that one day they’d play together again. And yet the Matou girl didn’t believe it, or rather, she didn’t know what to believe. 

If they loved her, why did they stop talking to her? 

“Make no mistake, Sakura, I am not a good person by human standards. I’ve essentially painted myself with all the world's evils; the blood of many is on my hands. I doubt many servants’ve caused as much havoc as I have. And yet, despite all that, I care. I care about you. I care about Kariya. So if you find yourself feeling that hurt again, know that you can confide in this servant, I will accept it all no matter what it may be, and in return for your trust, I’ll never turn away from either of you-”

“Even if we became bad people?” 

“Even so. So long as the bond between us exists, I’ll be content. It's why I can’t stand your grandfather, honestly. I can tell in the way he looks at people that he doesn’t value anyone relationship but the one he has to himself. I’m a supremely selfish servant, Sakura. I’ve done horrible things, but that is the one thing I can’t tolerate.” Sakura felt his hand place itself atop her head, gently patting it. 

“In truth, I don’t know your family, and so they mean nothing to me beyond how it affects you. That park could blow up for all I care and take out the entire Tohsaka lineage with it, and my only concern would be how it affects you and Kariya. I don’t care about them otherwise. So know that above all, when it comes to you, I care. ”

“I can’t believe it. He’s not faking. I didn’t think people like this were real. If that’s true, then maybe I can tell him about the wor-” Sakura cut off the thought before it could gain traction. 

No. 

No.

No. 

She couldn’t! 

Images flashed across her mind. One look of disgust sent by Assassin, and even more horrifying flashes of what her grandfather would do if he found out that the Matou heiress had told Assassin about their crest worms. He’d surely kill Assassin! No, grandfather was too strong to risk it, even as the little girl longed to open her heart out to any who might listen. Instead, it was better to just be content with what was available rather than becoming greedy. 

“I… I dunno what to say, Assassin, except thank you.” It was all Sakura could utter.

“Hahaha, anytime, little dragon. Quick question, though. You said your mother was a Tohsaka, right? By any chance, would her name be Aoi Tohsaka? With green eyes and hair?” he questioned. 

That was strange for sure. Did Assassin manage to sneak a glance at the park?

“Yes. That’s her.” 

“Ahh, I see. God damn it Kariya,” he murmmered. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, I uhh… just wanted to make sure you know! Just in case I ever saw her! Hey, now that I think about it, a while ago you said your grandfather didn’t teach you much about magecraft, right?” 

“Uh-huh. I only know a bit, and my uhhh magic circuits were turned on as well.”

He stood up quickly, freeing himself from Sakura’s grasp, his easy-going smile now turning into a smirk, and his eyes gleamed with an earnest yet devious mischievousness. 

“Well then, Sakura Matou, would you like to learn?” 

“I…What?” 

He couldn’t be serious, right? Teach her? 

“Hehehe, I may not be eligible for the Caster designation, but my know-how of the craft reaches to the very age of the gods! It’d be disappointing if I didn’t pick up a couple of things during that time.”

What was even going on?

“I don’t know. If grandfather finds out, then-”

“He won’t as long as you don’t rat me out. After all, what kind of Assassin would I be if I let myself get caught now? I’ve spent thousands of years fooling people with almost none the wiser,” he puffed his chest proudly at the boast. 

“In the end, this will be your choice alone; no one else gets to choose for you. So again I ask, Sakura Matou, do you want to learn?” His hand, the same one that’d rested upon her head, stretched out, encouraging her to take it. 

A breath. 

Sakura Matou now became painfully aware of the beating of her heart and the risks of accepting this sudden proposition.

Thump

Thump 

Thump

“What do I do?”

Thump 

Thump 

Thump

“I don’t want Assassin to die…”

Thump 

Thump 

Thump

“I’ve always wanted to…”

Thump 

Thump 

Thump

“If grandfather found out, he’d…”

Thump 

Thump 

Thump

A choice was made. 

“Yes.”

1 Month Later

Day 1 of the Holy Grail War

Kariya’s shoulders hunched forward as he sat on the edge of yet another somewhat lumpy and unfamiliar bed. The air felt stale, a mix of subpar wallpaper and cheap detergent. At least he’d long since recovered from the summoning and could functionally move again. The rental house on the outskirts of Fuyuki was just another stopgap in their seemingly nomadic lifestyle. 

His servant had insisted that, in place of having a base they could fortify that it’d be better to simply move locations every couple of days to prevent masters or another Assassin from tracking them. Each time they’d moved, he’d made sure to dispose of any remaining familiars and then install new ones in their new abode, among other security measures.

It was a rather small lodging rented under a name that Assassin most certainly plucked from thin air, or from whichever unfortunate soul’s wallet he’d stolen. Kariya hadn’t approved of Assassin stealing from working-class people, Assassin had argued that poorer folk were less likely to be able to cause problems but Kariya held firm, so Assassin reluctantly adjusted by pickpocketing from wealthier areas of Fuyuki and limited it to simply taking cash instead of the whole thing. 

Beyond that, at least Assassin had made sure to pay for whatever he procured including books he’d deemed appropriate for Kariya’s consumption, although it had been difficult reading Poor Folk with only one good eye. He’d been pleasantly delighted to learn that his servant was also an ardent reader who rapidly devoured books when he wasn’t attending to Kariya or galivanting around town. 

Every so often, they’d even have a nice chat about what they’d been reading. Kariya had always preferred the more introspective types of works, whereas Assassin seemed to prefer first-hand accounts of people’s lives or large-scale worlds he could explore.

Yet the Matou master couldn’t help but find some of his servant's eccentricities odd. 

For example, in front of the crippled Matou was… an entire acupuncture set. 

"Are you sure about this?" Assassin asked casually, setting up an array of thin, carefully curated needles next to a table clearly meant for Kariya to lie on. The needles gleamed menacingly under yellow lights, contrasting with the earnestly hopeful look Assassin was sending his way.

"For god's sake, yes," Kariya snapped with exasperation, his voice rasping through clenched teeth. "I told you I am not letting you poke holes in me with your weird venom-laced needles."

Assassin spat a dramatic sigh and picked up a needle, gently fidgeting with it between his fingers. "Ahh, come on, Kariya, I'm trying to keep you on your feet and pain-free, not poison you. Besides, I’ve been diluting the venom just for this. There’s barely even enough to stun a frog!"

"You literally used the words' venom, paralyze, and needles in the same sentence! Stop asking me, this is like the third time this month, Assassin!" Kariya shot back, his irritation flaring. Assassin huffed in equal irritation but was ultimately unfazed by his master’s show of hostility. 

“But it’s safe, though! Otherwise, why would I steal a copy of Sakura’s and your medical records? I could do it for both of you!” Kariya didn’t know whether or not that was true, his servant had always been the type to say some of the most inane things to try and get a rise out of him.

“Damn it, Assassin! Stop stealing things, and for the last time, my answer’s no!” 

"Ughh. Fine, if you insist," Assassin chirped, the corners of his mouth curling mischievously, reaching out his hand to ruffle Kariya’s white hair playfully, "at least try not to fold too soon."

Instinctively, Kariya slapped Assassin’s hand away sharply.

"Don't touch me," Kariya hissed. "Stop treating me like a sick pet."

Assassin chuckled once more and reached his hand out again with exaggerated slow motion. Kariya swatted the offending hand away once more.

"Fine, fine, I get it. But when your spine folds like a crappy lawn chair, expect an ‘I told you so.’"

Kariya scowled, but before he could retort to his uppity servant, Assassin’s expression shifted into a more curious look. "Anyway, if we're sadly not doing acupuncture tonight, let’s talk about something else. Have you read any of the books I got you lately? I don’t know about you, but I’m liking this A Game of Thrones book I picked up. I hope the author updates it consistently."

Kariya hesitated, slightly unnerved but ultimately used to the casual tone shifts. Assassin was like that, jumping from irritating to genuine with no clear line between them. It was like watching a chameleon archetype at work, but with a strange genuineness to it, either that or a stone-cold yuppie American sociopath. 

“Yeah, I just finished. I really like… What was his name again?” Kariya racked his brain for answers. 

“Describe him for me.”

“Hmm, I know he’s supposed to be a martyr-esque character, I think he also had a couple of daughters?” Kariya brought his fingers to his chin, trying to discern details. It used to be easier. 

“Oh! And he was King Robert’s best friend!” 

“Ned Stark?” 

“Yeah, him! I’m a bit of a fan of the martyr types of characters, it's a shame that he-”

“Wait, don’t spoil it! I still have a couple of chapters to go!”

“That’s your own fault, Assassin. Why ask me if you haven’t-”

The mild moment of levity instantly dropped. A sharp sensation surged abruptly through Kariya's crest worms, it wasn’t painful but more of a system meant to alert its host. Serpentine eyes narrowed sharply, tense with an unnatural alertness on Assassin’s otherwise casual demeanor.

The pair had been making use of a vision-sharing network to connect the sight of their familiars with their own. Assassin’s snakes possessed the higher capacity for rational thought, so they’d been given the clearance to essentially send a notification to their respective masters and other familiars of information it deemed relevant.

And now one had. 

A torrent of data was transferred into their collective consciousness, with what little words the serpent could convey. 

Tohsaka Manor 

Bounded Field → Active / altered (recently adjusted)  

Gold Servant → Visual: Tall/radiant

Class: [unknown] → Not Saber / not Assassin / not Rider / not Lancer

Threat rank → MAXIMUM  MAXIMUM MAXIMUM MAXIMUM MAXIMUM 

Recalibrating…

Assassin Servant? Arm impaled.

Class: [unknown] → 80% match alternate Assassin

Other Assassin → Agile / retreat failed  

Threat rank → Low

Status → Critical / fading  

Blood loss → Heavy 

Directive: Retreat / avoid contact / observe only 

Initiating vision share request

…

Request approved

Kariya could see it now, his current vision quickly gave way to the familiarity of the Tohsaka manor. 

The courtyard was illuminated by moonlight, and he could see two figures that stood starkly opposed to one another. 

One was clad in radiant golden armor, his posture unmistakably authoritative as if he commanded the very heavens themselves. The other was cloaked in mostly nondescript clothing but with a distinctive half-skull mask that kept his face obscured. Most likely the other Assassin-class servant. 

And yet, whatever conflict could have occurred before the transmission of data couldn’t have lasted long, as the alternate Assassin’s arm was already impaled through stone, locking him in place. 

The golden figure raised his arm contemptuously, and dozens of weapons manifested from golden portals around him.

“Mongrel intruder, you are nothing more than a slimy worm. Tell me, who permitted you to look upon my visage?” the golden servant’s voice echoed smoothly and with a regal authority like none that Kariya had ever heard. There was no mistaking it; that was undoubtedly the voice of a king. 

“So that’s Tokiomi’s servant.” 

In the instance it took for Kariya to process a single thought, it was done. Dozens of weapons rained down on the alternate Assassin, crushing and puncturing his body in a hail of projectiles too quick for Kariya to keep up with. 

Just like that, Tokiomi’s servant had cleared the board of the war’s first servant.

“It doesn’t matter that Assassin’s nowhere near as powerful as my own. I’ve seen what he can do. Tokiomi, just you wait because we will win!”

"Oh shit," Assassin whispered harshly, his voice tainted with a panic and fear Kariya hadn’t thought possible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, FUCK! We're FUCKED!"

Kariya was stunned to see a mix of raw terror and joy openly warring across Assassin’s usually lax features, his hands now desperately squeezing the edges of a table as if to keep himself from collapsing like a sack of potatoes. 

The confidence, the easy charm, the constant talking, all of it was now gone. 

"What is it? Assassin, talk to me!"

“Kariya, we need to get the HELL out of here! Pack your shit now!” 

“What?” 

“That guy is going to SQUASH me like a bug!”

“But you-” 

“Kariya, he is going to KILL me! We’ve just lost the Holy Grail War!” Kariya could see it plain as day, Assassin’s eyes had gone manic, and a debilitating dread settled into his weary bones.  

“You can’t be serious-"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life," Assassin cut him off, the color draining from his already pale face. 

"Screw this! If you care at all about Sakura and me, then let’s just grab her and run! If we stay, I’m going to die like that other Assassin! Monaco! That’s right, we can run away to Monaco! I’m sure I still have contacts there! SHIT!” His arms desperately gripped Kariya’s shoulders.

Kariya could only think of one thing as he felt his thoughts start short-circuiting. 

“Just what the hell did Tokiomi summon?”

“You are not worthy to gaze upon a king, a filthy worm like you should just lie on its stomach and die !”

Chapter Text

The cool and gentle winds of the Fuyuki night agreed with Artoria Pendragon, King of Britain, and the recently christened Saber, servant of the Holy Grail War. It reminded her of home. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the concrete, the harbor stretching before her, awaiting the inevitable clash of blades.

While she could not be sure as to who had laid down the challenge by flaunting their mana so impetuously, this king was never one to back down from a fight. No, for despite her diminutive stature, emerald eyes, and neatly tied blond bun, she was still one of the finest knights to grace the battlefield.

As Saber moved forward, her emerald gaze scanned the shadows, taking note of the stacked cargo containers and unmanned cranes that loomed over her. She paused for a moment, allowing herself a brief indulgence in her own time spent with Irisveil Von Einzbern this evening. While she may not have been Saber's master and was simply acting the part in public, she often found herself wishing that wasn't the case, even as Irisveil accompanied her to battle.

Irisviel was kind, impossibly so, even given her nature as a homunculus. Each moment spent with the red-eyed and pale woman felt like a quiet refuge, simple but precious nonetheless. A princess and her knight. Her husband, on the other hand…

"Kiritsugu Emiya. The very thought of that man drives me to retch."

Saber had never liked the mercenary. Every so-called interaction with him had been nothing more than a farce that only ever served to further humiliate and frustrate her. It would be an insult to human social function to call anything they'd had an interaction with. Rather, he'd neglected and ignored her at every opportunity since the day she was summoned, and pretended she didn't even exist.

They were like oil and water.

She had sensed him nearby, lurking in the shadows, observing the upcoming battle and no doubt scheming something. The thought of his distant, dispassionate black eyed gaze pressed upon her, an irritant to her sense of pride.

Yet she also felt a shot of anxiety shoot through her back, thinking of the unique circumstances of this war.

"Saber, due to… well, let's just say complications with maintenance, this war is going to be different from all the others," she'd confided in her, after a meeting of the three founding families and the overseer of this war at the Matou household.

"Twelve servants... There will be twelve servants in total for this grail war, thanks to all of the excess mana the grail has accumulated. Except for Lancer and Caster, each class will likely have a pair of servants participating in this war, instead of the usual one," she'd explained.

Seven was bad enough; it would be an even greater challenge than she thought with five more servants added to the fray, and while Kiritsugu had done an admittedly adequate job at collecting information on the other masters, he hadn't managed all of them. Beyond the recently deceased Assassin, there were ten more heroic spirits that she knew nothing about.

The knight pushed those thoughts aside, refocusing on the task at hand. Before her, across the dimly lit field, stood a tall man graced in green armor, fair skin, a mole on his cheek, and two spears. At a glance, she immediately identified him as a Lancer servant. He stood tall, graceful, and poised, the twin spears in his hands wrapped in sealing cloth. One was almost as long as he was tall, and another was a short spear based on its stature. His presence screamed honorable, dignified as he gracefully paced towards the center to meet her.

Saber's instincts flared, clearing her mind from everything other than an immediate readiness.

"Welcome," his voice called out clearly, "you honor me by accepting my challenge when no one else has. That pure and chivalrous energy I sense around you… You wouldn't happen to be the Saber servant, would you?"

She inclined her head slightly. "Indeed, I am, and I presume you to be Lancer?"

He smiled faintly, "Indeed, I am, Saber. In truth, I find these rules vexing to say the least. I would have liked to offer my name were I able, as befitting a knight."

"Indeed. And yet we play with the cards we are dealt." In a flash, she summoned her armor from its ethereal plane and gripped her blade, Excalibur, cloaked in an invisible air.

Irisveil shuffled behind her in anticipation, her white fur clothing shimmering in the night. "I can act as support, but…Saber, from here on, I put my faith in you. Grant me victory."

"Then let it be so!"

In a flash, the duel of knights began.

Saber tried the distance with lightning speed, her blade Excalibur tracing jet streams from the sheer strength of Artoria's swing through the air, clashing violently against Lancer's own crimson spear. The clang of steel echoed resonating through her bones as she tested his guard and skill at arms.

No, it wasn't just her blade testing his own, but the other way around as well. She could feel it in her very pounding heart. For each time their weapons came in contact with one another, he was measuring Excalibur in turn. If she wasn't careful, her own identity would be revealed within the very first true fight of the war, and who knew what deviants were lurking around like her master.

Lancer moved with a remarkable grace, meeting each blow with an almost inhuman precision, countering swiftly and confidently with a smirk the entire time. Clearly, he was enjoying this as much as Artoria was.

She admired his skill, his control; each movement of his weapon was felt calculated, perfect in form and intention. This was no crude combat on the battlefield but a dance.

"That's enough playing around now, Lancer. Don't drag this on for a minute longer. I hereby grant you permission to make use of your noble phantasm!" Lancer's master called out. Lancer seemed to be pleased by the turn of events and dropped his short spear, as well as the cloak that had obscured his red spear.

As their weapons locked once more, Saber felt a thrill surge through her chest as her blade met his crimson spear. Tragically enough, it also turned out to be a spear that penetrated through all magic.

Artoria'd go on to learn as much as each clash created a violent reaction from her blade as it cancelled out her invisible air magic in a violent collision of magics, and pierced through her own abdomen amid their engagement.

"Your skill is truly exceptional, Lancer," she acknowledged as they took to their paces once more, like a pair of predators that thought of the other as prey, measuring each other, her voice tinged with flickers of open respect.

Diarmuid's eyes brightened, reflecting sincere gratitude amid the clash of weapons. "And yours as well. To think that the unmistakable shine of your blade would be the thing to give you away, King of Knights. It is my privilege to have met you in this war. I must not be half bad if I can land even a single blow."

They separated briefly, circling each other carefully, once more. Saber's mind sharpened to a razor's edge, analyzing everything she could think of regarding the knight in front of her. She discarded her armor in a flash of blue, in hopes that the increased mobility would allow her to even the playing field.

The king clenched her muscles, ready for the next clash. With a burst of magical energy from Excalibur, she launched herself straight at Lancer, only to once again be put on the back foot when Lancer kicked up the yellow spear he'd previously discarded.

"A trap! Damn it all!"

The blond servant could only desperately pivot her trajectory to barely avoid the thrust Lancer sent her way. She twisted herself midstrike, yet even so, she felt a deep pain explode in her wrist as blood pooled out. It wasn't a complete dodge, but had her instincts been even a second too late, she was sure it would have killed her. It wasn't a complete miss on her part as she managed a glancing blow as she dodged simultaneously onto his shoulder.

Her heart clenched, realizing the severity of her situation as Irisviel tried and failed multiple times to heal her wrist, whereas her blow to Lancer was healed in an instant by his master.

"He severed a tendon, I can barely move my finger, damn my carelessness."

However, now she did not doubt who the knight in front of her was, as he readied himself once more with a devilish smirk.

A knight with a mole that charms women, a red spear that strikes through all magic, and a yellow spear that curses those it wounds to be unable to heal.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne.

Waver Velvet was not sure what he'd done to deserve all this.

All he'd wanted to do was prove himself to his classmates, to his teacher Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, and all of those blue-bloods at the Clocktower that'd look down on him. Every day, it felt to like a fresh new hell. Whether it was a snide remark from people whose families were only one generation older than his own, to his own teacher ripping apart the essay he'd spent weeks writing and throwing it into the trash for all to see.

This grail war was supposed to be his chance to show them what he was really made for. He'd even taken the great risk to steal the relic Kayneth had intended to use and summoned the king of conquerors himself, as a Rider servant! And yet he couldn't help but feel insecure around his servant, who seemed more intent on doing things his way rather than showing any sort of deference to his own master.

Rider was everything he wasn't.

Rider was tall, while he was minuscule.

Rider's body was covered from head to toe in rippling tanned muscles, while he was a pasty white in skin tone and scrawny at best in terms of physique. Heck, Waver was sure that even without any divine backing or mana backing him up, Rider could fight a hundred gorillas and still have enough energy in the tank to get a beer.

Rider was booming and loud, filling any room he was in with a noble charisma that charmed all, while he was quiet and introverted at the best of times.

It gnawed at him as he held onto the steel beam of the Fuyuki bridge, desperately clinging on, trying not to fall off as they watched Saber and Lancer clash from afar. To make matters worse? His servant to charge straight into the fray, guns blazing! The third generation mage clutched on tighther in panic.

"Wait, Rider! You're seriously going down there right now?"

"If you don't approve, you could always stay here, you know," Rider responded with his typical booming voice.

"No, no, no, hold up! Take me with you!"

"Haha! That's my master for you!"

Waver felt himself unceremoniously tossed into Rider's chariot, pulled by two divine bulls, the Gordian Wheel. He gripped the sides of the massive chariot, knuckles white, eyes squeezed shut as wind rushed by with a fierce, unrelenting force. This was madness, sheer madness!

"Are you ready, Master?" Rider boomed, glancing back with a broad, fearless grin. "Tonight we'll introduce ourselves properly!"

Waver could only manage a startled gasp before the chariot surged forth, pulled by its mighty bulls. The roaring wind stole away his voice, drowning it out completely. In truth, the entire experience was leaving him breathless and terrified as they barreled through the night sky.

Below them lay Lancer and Saber, both readying themselves to resume their flurry of offense. Even just getting a glance from dizzying heights was enough for Waver to make out several facts of reality about them.

Precise.

Honorabale.

Strong.

"Here we go, boy. This is where the Grail War truly begins! AALALALALALALAI!" Rider cried out without warning. He guided the airborne chariot down sharply, and Waver felt his stomach lurch as the ground seemed to come at them impossibly fast.

Waver braced himself, his mind convincing himself that they were about to plunge straight into a red paste.

Yet, as always, Rider controlled the descent perfectly. In his way, at least. The Gordian Wheel thundered down between Saber and Lancer with a thunderous crash, shattering asphalt and scattering debris. Dust billowed dramatically outward, cloaking the duo briefly in a haze.

Coughing, Waver stumbled, his legs trembling beneath him. He steadied himself just enough to glance up and see Saber and Lancer halt their duel, stunned and alert, weapons at the ready as Rider boldly threw his fists into the air.

"Servants of the Fourth Holy Grail War!" Rider's voice boomed like thunder come to life. "Sheathe your blade, for you stand in the presence of a king! I, Iskandar, King of Conquerors, of the Rider class of this war, have come bearing a message for all who may listen!"

The sheer boldness and unmitigated audacity of Iskandar's words left both Saber and Lancer speechless. They exchanged puzzled glances, unsure how to respond to the bombastic interruption to their duel. Waver felt his cheeks heat up.

"What the hell! Did he just give out his identity on a silver platter, you idiot!"

THWICK

Waver's complaints were immediately silenced by a quick flick of Rider's fingers, leaving him reeling from the heavy impact.

"You have fought admirably, brave heroes! But why waste your strength opposing one another?" Rider continued boldly, arms spread wide as if embracing the entirety of the world. "What say you to yielding the Holy Grail to me and joining my invincible army in grand conquest!

"WHAT?" Waver couldn't believe the absolute gumption of his crimson-haired servant.

You would all be treated as brothers in arms as we strive for the goal of world conquest! Let us seize the Holy Grail together! Not as enemies, but as noble allies bound by!"

Waver glanced nervously between Saber and Lancer. Saber's eyes widened slightly, her surprise showing more clearly than the others. Lancer's lips twitched upward faintly, clearly feeling some sort of bitter amusement despite himself.

"I admire your forthrightness, Rider. In truth, I wish that my name were my own to give. However…" his bemused expression quickly turned into a razor-sharp glare.

"I shall fight for one man only, my sole master, and deliver to him the holy grail. And that man is not you, Rider."

Saber held none of the initial mirth that Lancer had. "Honestly, Rider, to think you would interrupt my duel with Lancer, quite rudely, I might add, to spout such drivel at us. You must be either very confident in your abilities or very foolish to throw such an insult on our honor."

"Hmmm… We could negotiate compensa-"

"ENOUGH!" the two knights yelled out before he could continue trying to cajole them.

Saber continued her tirade, "And even so, Rider, I am a king in my own right. To bow before another would bring the utmost shame to my beloved Britain."

That certainly piqued Iskandar's interest if the widening of his eyes and smile were anything to go by. "You are the legendary king of Britain? I admit I'm shocked! To think the King of Knights was actually a little girl this whole time!"

She bristled in response, her scowl deepening and blade readied once more, "Then you are more than welcome to have a taste of this little girl's blade, King of Conquerors!"

Iskandar sighed in genuine disappointment. "It seems that negotiations have broken down, what a shame-"

"Ahh, well, it's not the worst pitch I've heard. It was pretty good, King of Conquerors," A voice spoke from behind Waver.

Waver felt every nerve in his body set on edge, whipping his head back, mere inches from him stood a cheerful, tall man with a pale complexion only interrupted by a pink jagged scar stopping at his hairline and clothed in a black tactical jacket that billowed like a coat on the lower end. Waver felt his heart nearly leap out of his ribcage with a scream of surprise as he dove behind Rider.

The man's golden eyes sparkled with faint amusement, clearly entertained by Waver's startled expression. "Easy there, buddy. Apologies for the scare," he spoke, taking a gentle step back to the very edge of the chariot.

"It seems our duel just loves to invite interlopers, Saber. Tell me what class are you, servant?" Diarmuid interjected, drawing his crimson spear directly at the new arrival.

"I'm of the Assassin class, the sneaking around bit comes with the job. Honestly, between the kings and knights, it's a pleasure to be in such esteemed company."

Iskandar turned swiftly, his initially guarded stance shifting into the hearty amusement, Waver had grown accustomed to. He roared with laughter, clapping Waver's shoulder reassuringly and nearly knocking him off balance again.

"An Assassin appearing so openly to my offer?" Rider boomed cheerfully, clearly delighted rather than threatened now that someone had come in seemingly willing to entertain his shenanigans. "Ha! You have courage, Assassin! I hope you didn't come here with the notion to claim my Master's life. If so, you've missed your shot!"

Assassin chuckled good-naturedly, spreading his hands in a gesture of harmlessness, though that didn't stop the fear shooting throughout Waver.

"This is bad. We're surrounded by three servants now. We have to get out of here before-"

"Calm yourself, boy. If he'd wanted you dead, I doubt he would have wasted time introducing himself," the bronze-skinned servant whispered, putting his hand onto Waver's diminutive shoulder.

"You should listen to him," the Assassin shrugged.

"In truth, Rider, I'm here because of your pitch. I originally wasn't supposed to show myself, but your call for an alliance got my blood pumping, King of Conquerors! We can even take this elsewhere to discuss details and let these two get back to their fight."

Waver's heart continued hammering furiously in his chest. Assassin's sudden proximity and appearance had left him rattled, and his body was rigid. He glanced rapidly between Rider and Assassin, shuffling himself ever so slightly closer to Iskandar's towering frame. Assassin, for his part, seemed entirely unconcerned, his posture relaxed and his smooth smile unwavering.

Rider laughed uproariously. "Indeed! Had I been a lesser servant, you could have attempted to slay my master, yet you didn't even try. So, either you're telling the truth or you like to play with your food."
The Assassin's eyes gleamed playfully. "I assure you, Rider, I'm not here for any fighting tonight. Frankly, attacking from behind never sat well with me anyway, I prefer to take my kills head-on."

Rider nodded appreciatively, folding his powerful arms across his chest. "Ohoho, see that boy, looks like it wasn't such a bad idea to come out here after all. It's rare to find those of your kind that are so open, Assassin. No offense, of course."

Waver noted that both Saber and Lancer had exchanged glances.

Neither seemed fully convinced by Assassin's friendliness. On one end, Saber watched Assassin with a calculating look, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly reserving judgment. Lancer's expressions, in turn, hardened.

Clearly, neither was pleased at yet another intrusion.

Before Assassin could respond, a voice crackled through the air, one that Waver had dreaded hearing for weeks now.

"Waver Velvet," a voice intoned sharply. " I was wondering what sort of idiocy had possessed you to become a sniveling thief and steal my relic," the all too familiar patronizing and magically magnified voice of one Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Waver's former teacher from the prestigious clocktower, and the man he'd stolen a relic from to summon, Iskandar.

Waver felt his knees begging for a respite and to simply slink onto the ground like a worm.

"Now, you may not be as well-versed in these matters as I am, but I will, however, out of the kindness of my heart as your teacher, give you a private lesson on just what it means to cross a mage's path, Waver."

Waver could practically feel Kayneth stepping out of the shadows, his bearing regal and graceful. His finely tuned coat billowed behind him as if fate itself was scheming to make Waver feel lesser than he already did.

He could feel it. Everyone's stares. They were judging him; they had to be right? Why wouldn't they?

Saber was a king, surely praised by all of her homeland.

Diarmuid was a renowned knight.

Assassin, well, he didn't know what he was, but the aura he exuded practically screamed sociable and affable.

Iskandar was the King of Conquerors! A man known far and wide to anyone with even the slightest notion of world history.

And worst of all, Kayneth. The clock tower student could feel the judgmental gaze of his teacher. Rich, a prodigy among prodigies, was recognized by even the peak of the magical hierarchy and blessed with sixty magic circuits, and that wasn't even including the additional forty-five sub-circuits from his magic crest, as he'd boasted numerous times in their lessons.

"I can feel it all. Everyone's stares. It's too much! I can't-"

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavy hand placing itself on his shoulder. It wasn't a cautious one like before, but rather something comforting? Waver's eyes glanced up to see Iskandar with a wide, toothy grin looking as noble as ever. As if he were saying, "It's okay," without even speaking.

"Mage, who is speaking now! Tell me, are you suggesting that you were meant to be my master instead of this boy whom I have sworn to serve? That idea is absurd! Only someone with the heart to ride out to battle, even if they're terrified, with me could possibly be worthy of the King of Conquerors!" he bellowed out, like he was shouting it for the entire world to hear.

"A man who shirks behind dark corners like a coward in the night could ever even dream of being worthy of me! BAHAHAHAHA!" Iskandar's mere laugh felt like it was shaking both him and the chariot.

Waver felt his heart flutter. He couldn't believe it. Why would he defend him so proudly like this?

"And of course let us not forget the others who are out there skulking in the darkness, like cowards too terrified to fight!"`

Saber finally felt fit to interject with a flare of annoyance.

"Just what are you talking about, Rider. Speak plainly."

"Is it not obvious, King of Knights? Surely you must know that the magnificent dance of your blades has attracted more eyes to bear witness, why is that not why Assassin and I have both arrived?"

Iskandar took a deep inhalation, his lungs expanding outwards, as he lifted his fists gloriously up to the air.

"HEROIC SPIRITS OF THE HOLY GRAIL! HEAR ME NOW!" He screamed out for all to hear.

"IF YOU HAVE EVEN AN INKLING OF BRAVERY AND CHIVALRY, GATHER HERE! THOSE WHO DO NOT SHALL INCURE THE WRATH OF I, THE KING OF CONQUERORS, ISKANDARRRRRR!"

For a brief moment, silence was all that could be heard.

One could hear a pin drop.

For a moment, Waver thought that no one would come. If nothing else, it would be a relief. His eyes flicked towards Assassin's fascinated expression, then Saber's stern scowl, and Lancer's somber expression.

And then, an oppressive, almost suffocating presence suddenly blanketed the harbor, blanketing the entire area in a wave of tension of dread, and most importantly, danger. Every instinct cultivated throughout thousands of years of human development in Waver's body screamed for him just to run!

BOOM!!!

Concrete blew apart, and the shattered earth buckled underneath what looked like a crashing meteorite!

Debris exploded violently outward; he'd even heard a couple of pieces of shrapnel smack onto the chariot as if they were bullets. The sheer impact sent shockwaves, forcing all present to brace against its raw intensity.

As the dust settled, a monstrous figure more akin to a mobile fortress than a human being rose to his full height.

Waver could make out a lightly colored bronze-skinned figure clad in red, jagged armor, gleaming under the sparse lighting of the harbor, and meticulously crafted with ornate designs that spoke of royalty and prestige. Short crimson hair with red feathers on top blazed fiercely, paired with white, blank eyes that spoke of an entirely foreign type of madness, incomprehensible to the average human mind. As if it wasn't enough that the figure looked like a towering titan, both hands were fitted with worn-down gauntlets. Clearly, whoever this person was had plenty of practice in beating his opponents to death.

A thunderous roar emerged from him, blowing away all the accumulated debris around him and, in turn, giving all present an unobscured view of his visage.

"There's no doubt in my mind that has to be Berserker!"

The gathered party stared at the new arrival cautiously, and even Rider looked slightly unnerved.

Assassin, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the show of events. He raised an eyebrow at Berserker's dramatic entrance, shaking his head with an exaggerated disbelief.

"You know," Assassin tutted lightly, glancing sideways at Rider and Waver, "I almost got summoned as a Berserker. Imagine this face, trapped in a crappy role like that. I'd lose all my charm barking like a maniac."

Iskandar chuckled briefly despite the crushing weight of Berserker's arrival, clearly entertained by Assassin's casual display of arrogance. Even Waver managed to muster a nervous smile, not forgetting the immediate threat before them, but feeling grateful nonetheless for the shift in mood.

Assassin smirked openly, now directly addressing Berserker with clear, mocking humor. "Nice entrance, Berserker, really freaking subtle. There are no rules about trying to keep this war secret, right?"

He rolled his eyes and walked a couple of paces towards the Berserker, yet still at a reasonable distance, approximately seventy-five feet away from the mobile fortress once he'd stopped. Waver didn't know if he was foolhardy or just that confident in his agility.

Berserker sneered, baring his white molars at the golden-eyed servant.

"Hey guys, look at him frowning at me like an angry grandpa. Must suck having the personality of a—OH SHIT!"

It'd all happened so fast.

In the blink of an eye, Berserker was in one spot, and in the next, Berserker had his armored fist buried so deep into Assassin's midsection that while it didn't pierce straight through, Waver could see how it contorted his body like a dented can.

The pale servant's body, propelled by inertia, shot into a nearby industrial shipping container, the weathered steel shrieking and breaking like flimsy paper. The servant vanished into the depths of the crumpled wreckage, leaving only a stunned silence in his wake.

Saber and Lancer's mouths looked like they were ready to fall to the floor as the Berserker once again stood tall.

"That was...unexpected," Rider admitted, his boisterous attitude now tempered by a newfound caution.

Saber stared, speechless at the immediacy of it all.

"With just one strike," Lancer muttered, his grip on his lance now tightening.

Berserker roared once more, smashing his fist into his breastplate, for even though it was clearly meant as a smack, it nonetheless communicated like he was trying to cave in his ribcage.

"I am Lu Bu Fengxian!" He sneered at the crowd.

"The 'Flying General', born of ash and steel. I've come to this foreign land seeking the Holy Grail! And as soon as opportunity arises, I shall gladly betray my Master! Any replacements are welcome, step forth if you are worthy!"

Iskandar scratched his beard, his brows furrowed, as the bewildered silence lingered.

"Did… anyone understand a word of that?"