Chapter Text
“Mash! Do we have enough pseudo-spiritron crystals?” A boy’s voice resounded through the empty chamber.
“Ah, we’ve just acquired the latest batch not too long ago, I think.” The voice of the girl answered in reply.
The boy crouched over the center of the room where a great shield lay, running his hand along the top of it. “It’s been a while since we last used this room, hasn’t it? You think we’ll get any Heroic Spirits of significant notoriety?” He turned his head toward Mash, his eyes glimmering with a hint of curiosity.
“Ah, yes, it’s been a fair amount of time, Senpai. Resources have been allocated toward improving Novum Chaldea lately. I would’ve liked to summon more. You never know who we’ll see appear.” Her lavender eyes captured his own, and she quirked her head. “I’ve had a strange feeling today. I think we’ll see something special today, most certainly.”
The Last Master of Chaldea, Ritsuka Fujimaru, nodded his head. “I agree. There just feels like something is in the air, you know? You know that feeling you get just before something big happens? Not something big or what not, but just the feeling that something’s about to change? I can only hope that we summon something good this time. After the last time…,” he shuddered. The last Servant they’d summoned had been a tad too dramatic for either of their taste, and while Ritsuka didn’t begrudge Servants for their drama, they could get too rowdy for his liking sometimes.
The lavender-haired girl hummed in agreement, turning her gaze toward the shield. She understood the feeling. The air in the summoning chamber visibly thrummed with mana. The sign wasn’t necessarily malicious in nature, but an indication that something was waiting to be summoned, waiting to answer an uninitiated call. After a moment, she shook her head, and returned her focus to Ritsuka, who stood up from the ground.
He turned toward her and quirked a brow at what she was holding. “So, how many spiritron crystals do we currently have? Enough to call a random Servant from the Throne, or enough to summon an entire Servant?” The FATE system of Chaldea could be finicky at the best of times, and downright uncooperative at worst. To call a Servant from the Throne of Heroes, a minimum of three pseudo-spiritron crystals needed to be consumed. However, if more crystals were added to the initial summoning, summoning a Servant with higher parameters or more available power was possible. On the other hand, to do so, one needed to expend four times the initial summoning cost for a Servant to retain a majority of their power upon being summoned.
The lavender-haired girl tilted her gaze downward, eyeing the crystals nestled in her arms, “We have twelve on hand at the moment. So, whatever Heroic Spirit we summon, we should hope it’s a good one. We don’t need another Gilles de Rais-incident. That was bad enough.” She met the Master’s gaze once more, “Somehow, though, I get the feeling that won’t happen today, don’t you?”
The boy smiled, closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He felt the same way. He was experienced enough by now with summoning that he could predict the nature of the Servant they summoned beforehand by tasting the ambient mana within the air. As it would turn out, detecting magecraft through one’s sense of taste wasn’t entirely useless on its own. It had helped him to discern the intentions of summoned Servants and act accordingly so as to prevent infighting between the Servants of Chaldea.
The Master opened his eyes, and aqua eyes met lavender orbs. “I suppose we should begin, then? You’ll be right next to me?”
The Demi-Servant nodded her head earnestly, “Of course! There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here.” She smiled at him, “Let’s do our best today! You can begin at any time. I’m right here.
He smiled at her reassurance, and nodded. He took the crystals within her arms, and turned to walk toward the shield. The moment he laid the crystals atop the shield, they began to glow a brilliant cerulean blue. He stepped back a few steps, steadying his feet evenly upon the ground, and stared at the shield.
He thrusted his left arm in the direction of the shield, palm open, and steadied his left arm, grasping it and holding it firm with his right hand. He cleared his throat and declared aloud, “Let silver and steel be the origin. Let iron and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my ancestor be the stargazers of Babylon. Let raise a wall against the great wind that falls. Close the four cardinal gates. Rotate the three-forked road emerging from the crown into the Kingdom."
"Let it be declared; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate is with your sword! Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail, and if you abide by my will, my reason, answer me!”
He continued, his voice growing louder, his pace growing swifter, “An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all the virtues of the World. I shall have dominion over all the evils of the World! From the Seventh Heaven, clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!”
The light shining from the crystals began to flash a luminescent blue, and they began to shake erratically before, finally, the crystals shattered on the shield, and a brilliant light shone through the rest of the room. The young Master had to look away from the shield, lifting his arms and covering his eyes from the overwhelming light. After a moment, he returned his stare to the middle of the room, and what he saw took his breath away.
In place of where the light shone from, there stood a boy that appeared slightly older than himself. He had a shock of red hair with white creeping in at the ends, held in place by a red headwrap, and patches of darkened skin marred the boy’s face and arms. The darkened skin appeared to encroach upon the boy’s face, beginning from the upper left of the boy’s face and marking his left eye.
The boy surveyed the room, taking in the environment before he turned his gaze to the Chaldean Master. He stood clad in black body armor with a red sleeve enveloping his left arm, and a white mantle was draped over the boy’s back, covering much of the boy’s right arm and trailing behind his back. He wore what looked like the lower half of Emiya’s mantle around his waist, and the black armor continued down to the boy’s lower legs.
The boy tilted his head, taking in the young Master before he bobbed his head in acceptance. He addressed Ritsuka, “Servant, Archer. At your call, I have come. I hope we can get along.”
It took the raven-haired Master a moment to respond. He blinked at the boy, mildly bemused at the boy’s easy manner. He shook his head and inclined his head to the Archer-class Servant, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru, and this here,” he gestured to Mash beside him, who stood taut as a bowstring by his side, “is Mash Kyrielight, a Shielder-class Servant. This is Chaldea, an organization looking to prevent the extinction of humanity and restore Proper Human History. I look forward to working with you in the near future. Now, let’s show you the facilities you can use and where you’ll be staying. We’ll go to the cafeteria first.”
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As they walked through the halls of Chaldea, the Master couldn’t help but steal intermittent looks at the red-haired Archer. He had a few questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t feel like it would be very polite to question someone he had just met, and he didn’t want to accidentally offend the Servant. He didn’t want to be on bad terms with anyone close to his age, let alone a supernatural entity that appeared his age and could get violent at any time.
He was dragged from his musings by the Archer next to him, who shot him a dry stare as if to say, “Really?” “Do you have something you wish to ask me, Master? I assume you have a reason to be shooting me those looks, and I hope it’s not for the reason I’m thinking of…” The redhead drawled.
Aqua eyes blinked before the young Master sputtered, “W-what?! No, no, of course not! It’s not that, I promise! I just wanted to ask you something! I-I mean, if you don’t mind?” He stumbled over the words. He hadn’t expected the Archer to call him out on his weird looks, although it certainly wasn’t unexpected that the Archer had noticed.
The red Archer huffed in amusement, but his formerly stiff posture seemed to loosen ever so slightly. He smiled, “If you have something you wish to ask, then ask. I will not mince words with you. As your Servant, is it not my duty to do my very best? Ask, and I will tell you what you wish to know.”
The aqua-eyed boy made a noise of agreement, and stood in contemplation. What was the first question he wanted to ask? Why was he dressed like Emiya? What was his True Name? What was his Noble Phantasm? How many Noble Phantasms did he have-?
He was cut from his thoughts when the Archer met his gaze and spoke with a firm tone, “Hey, don’t drive yourself mad trying to figure out what you want to say and just pick one. I find it’s better to approach most things that way. Let’s start simple. You wish to know who I am, correct?
The Master shook his head in affirmation, “I’d like to know your True Name, if you don’t mind. You look similar to another Heroic Spirit here in Chaldea, and I think you must be related to him in some way-.”
The Archer cut him off with a wry smirk, “I don’t suppose the man you speak of is Heroic Spirit Emiya, is it?”
The black-haired boy gaped at the Archer for a moment and stammered, “How’d you know that’s what I was going to ask?”
Archer shrugged and snarked back, “I didn’t. You just told me. However, you aren’t wrong. I share my origin with the man that came to be called “Heroic Spirit Emiya.”
Baffled, Ritsuka inquired, “Same origin? So you are related! I knew it!” He cheered at his conclusion.
Archer tilted his head in thought, “In the strictest sense of the word, yes, we are related. Saying we’re related would be quite the understatement.”
The Master questioned the Archer in confusion, “Understatement? What exactly does that mean? You share his attire, your faces heavily resemble one another, and you-... Wait a minute… You don’t mean…?”
The red Archer confirmed his suspicion, “Yes, you would be correct. I meant it quite literally. At one point, Heroic Spirit Emiya once lived as “Shirou Emiya.” Let me put it this way; what I am, he was, and what he is, I will be.”
The Last Master was silent for a moment. He turned his head and met the amber eyes of Archer, “Memento mori? Wait, you don’t mean-?”
The Archer interrupted him mid-sentence, “No, I will not perish. Shirou Emiya does not become “Heroic Spirit Emiya” by dying. “Heroic Spirit Emiya” is the culmination of Shirou Emiya’s ideal of becoming a hero. He who lived as Shirou Emiya followed his ideal to the very end and turned out the way he did as the result of the deal he made with the Counter Force. Certainly, he lived as Shirou Emiya, but he lives now as Heroic Spirit Emiya, an Archer-class Servant of Chaldea. We share the same existence, but two different results. I won’t go into it, but to put it briefly, I can be described as “what came before,” and he “what came after.”
Archer continued, “I will not perish because of Emiya, nor he because of me. We are two separate people. In the end, though, he is the very opposite of me. You call him Emiya, correct? If he is Emiya, you can call me ‘Shirou.’”
The Chaldean Master nodded his head and remained silent. He could tell he was approaching a sensitive subject, and he had no desire to push Archer further than he already had. If the red Archer had anything he wanted to tell him, the Servant would tell him in good time. At any rate, they were approaching the cafeteria, so he opted to cut the conversation short.
“So, the room we’re approaching now is the cafeteria. The human staff and Servants can come here for meals three times a day. You’ll see Heroic Spirits from all walks of life here in Chaldea, so don’t be surprised if you don’t know any of them. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to socialize with any of them. They can be intimidating at first.” The Master summarized for the Archer. “Will you need anything else from here? I’ll show you to your room later on, so don’t worry about that.”
The redhead shook his head, “Hmm. I’ll be fine from here. You can attend to the things that require your attention now. I refuse to take any more time than I already have. I’m sure I can figure out where I’m going for the most part.”
The Master nodded his head, and went to leave, hesitating for a moment as looked back at the Archer. Whatever thoughts were running through his head, Shirou didn’t know, but he seemed to come to a conclusion of sorts as he nodded once more and left, heading for the hallway leading to the rest of the facility.
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When the Master was no longer in sight, Shirou’s posture slumped, and he trudged his way to an empty table. He threw his legs over a chair and collapsed on the seat. He placed his head on the table and closed his eyes in contemplation. His current situation wasn’t the best, being in a completely new place with foreign, potentially hostile Servants with very little information pertaining to the circumstances surrounding Chaldea, but it certainly wasn’t the worst it could be. It was mildly astonishing to him to see Heroic Spirits in the flesh, let alone that he, himself, manifested as a Servant.
After a moment, Shirou raised his head and examined the rest of the room. From what little he could see in the kitchen, he could see multiple Servants manning the grill, washing fruit, and preparing meals. For a moment, he thought he saw a mop of white hair in the kitchen, but he might’ve been seeing things. He turned his attention to the rest of the room. At one table, he spied a regal blonde in silver-blue armor, and a number of knights sitting around the table. That, he figured, must be the King of Knights.
At another table, he could see several Servants sitting together. He saw a green-haired woman conversing with another woman with violet hair, a tall behemoth of a Servant that stood next to the table as if holding a vigil of some kind, a blonde woman holding a blond male by his ear and speaking with a significant amount of force, and a white-haired male lecturing a blond male sitting at the table. Well, Shirou thought, that must be quite the group. He certainly didn’t envy them.
He turned his attention to his own table. Sure, he should be doing something productive like introducing himself to his fellow Servants, making himself familiar with the rest of the facility, or finding something to eat, but he just couldn’t bring himself to move from his spot at the empty table. Why was he here, he thought, when there were surely better Servants than himself that could’ve been summoned, that would’ve liked to have been summoned? He could freely admit, if only to himself, that the potential extinction of mankind didn’t concern him very much. He only cared for one thing at this point, and he’d lost even that. What good was the world, he thought, if you had no one else to enjoy it with? Hell, why was he even here if everything he lived for was go-.
He swiftly put an end to that train of thought. It would do him no good to think on that. Down that path lay a series of “what-ifs” and madness. In his current state, the least he could do was lend his support to Chaldea. Who could say whether he would find something he could call his own there? The only path, he told himself, is forward.
After he calmed himself, he took a deep breath and collected himself. A commotion to his left brought his attention to the entrance of the cafeteria, and what he saw took the very breath from his lungs. It couldn’t be… it shouldn’t be… but what if…
About sixty feet from his table and looking away from his direction, he saw a group of three young girls. One had long, silver hair and red eyes, another had pale whitish-pink hair with amber eyes resembling his own, but it was the third girl that stole his attention. She had black hair that ended at her upper back and amber eyes so much like his own. She wore a purple leotard with a white cape across her back, and at her feet was a pair of white boots with purple greaves.
For a minute or two, he could do nothing but stare at the trio, breathless and shocked. Miyu was here too? He needed to get up, he needed to talk to her, he needed to make sure she was alright, that she was happy, that she was-.
He cut himself off. Calm down, he told himself. His hands shook as he, with great effort, stood up from the table. He could feel his eyes burn as he willed his body forward toward the trio. Keep walking, he told his body, just a bit more. It took time, and there was no doubt that he appeared suspicious to any watching observers, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.
When he was fifteen feet from the three girls, the girl wearing a feminine, scandalous version of Emiya’s outfit was the first to see him. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. The other two girls next to her were content to speak with one another before the silver-haired girl noticed the former’s countenance. She followed her gaze and, soon enough, joined her in her bafflement. The black-haired girl took note of her friends’ silence and felt a twinge of concern.
“Chloe, Illya, what’s wrong? What are you looking at?” Miyu questioned her friends. Chloe said nothing, and Illya only raised a shaking finger at Miyu, pointing at her--no, behind her. She went to turn in her seat, but a familiar voice sent a chill down her back, and her eyes widened at what she saw, and tears welled up in her amber orbs.
“B-big brother?” She stammered in shock, surprise, and a multitude of other emotions. “I-is that you? You’re h-here?!” She sprung from her seat, standing up and turning to face him.
She locked her gaze with his own, and the emotions, the familiarity in his eyes brought something akin to a gasp and a choke from her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she could vividly feel the tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.
The redheaded boy opened his arms and spoke to her, lowering his voice to give them a shadow of privacy, “Hi, Miyu. I-I’m back. Wh-” He could speak no more when Miyu shot from her position and covered the distance between them in an instant, slamming into his abdomen and wrapping her arms around his back. The momentum from her jump sent him sprawling onto his ass, but he was quick to wrap his own arms around her smaller, lithe frame, pressing her face against his chest. A loud, heart-piercing cry erupted from her as she began to bawl into her brother’s chest, “Y-you’re here! You’re here! Y-you’re really here! I missed you so much!”
Heads snapped in their direction the moment Miyu’s cry was heard throughout the room, but he paid them no mind, merely holding Miyu against himself as he, too, began to cry. He pressed his face into her hair, “Welcome home, Miyu. Welcome home.”