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Steel Eyed Faker: Chapter 25: New Teigu
🕑 Added 2025-12-12 18:32:58 +0000 UTCBeta read by Paragon of Awesomeness
Next update hound
Sorry for the late update, had to do an MRI scan of my knee due to some pain that REALLY flared up yesterday.
Good news, no ligament tear and it's just something minor that requires me to stop walking for a short period of time, rest and taking some medicine. (I walk a lot, several hours, when doing vtt cause it helps imagining the scenes, so it might have been because of that.)
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-Night Raid Base-
If there was one constant across all realities, it was the fact that the entity known as Emiya Shirou was not a talented mage by standard views.
Rin often called that foolish boy a third rate Magus, with very little chance of ever advancing beyond that unless he truly pushed himself beyond his limits — much less earning a title. The fact that his sole talent also involved a taboo form of Magecraft that would instantly lead him to getting slapped with a Sealing Designation did not help.
Despite possessing a slightly above average number of Magic Circuits, the boy had always been limited to a single spell due to his overspecialization. No Magus worth their salt would ever proudly show their face or declare themselves gifted if their entire repertoire amounted to only one technique. Such a person would be regarded as little more than a trainee, an apprentice who had barely set foot on the path. Trying to learn anything beyond that spell was pointless for all those who bore the name of Emiya Shirou. Hundreds if not thousands of hours poured into additional training would barely move the needle.
That had been a reality Emiya accepted long before his first death. It was one he never truly resented and the main reason why he never even bothered to experiment with other forms of Magecraft.
It was simply who he was. The single spell that represented his entire existence, his truest identity and everything his life embodied. A Magecraft that hovered on the edge of True Magic, close in concept yet separated by an enormous gulf. A Magecraft intertwined with the theory of the world egg; a Reality Marble.
Something that imposed his inner world upon the outer one. It created a space where he was strongest, where the world reflected how he saw himself, revealing his authentic form for all to witness.
That was Unlimited Blade Works.
It was a spell he relied on for both offense and defense. Whether he called forth swords from the barren wasteland within his soul into the physical world or manifested shields, pieces of armor, or projectiles, everything originated from that inner domain.
Every technique and ability he possessed branched from that one spell, each thread leading back to it. One of those abilities happened to be something he disliked using and avoided whenever he could. It leaned toward defensive application, yet it frequently harmed the user, oftentimes even more than whatever they were trying to defend against.
The same concept of calling forth swords from his inner world was applied within his own body. It was brutal, efficient, and barbaric, sprouting blades like a human-shaped porcupine to deter attackers while holding his body together. Muscle fibres twisted around manifested blades that pierced through damaged tissue, stitching torn areas together like a sewing machine until his body merely resembled something close to its original state. It was not healing in any proper sense, merely a crude method of taping himself back into one piece before dealing with the consequences later.
"I can't remember the last time I had to use this in such a way," Emiya said as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining the condition of his body.
Horrific was the only fitting word.
His limbs had been reattached, his bones and ligaments set back into their proper places, but the damage to his skin and flesh remained far from healed. Lines of fresh scars crossed old ones, several cuts still leaked thin trails of blood, and tiny metallic blades protruded visibly beneath the surface. His fingers traced slowly across the lines that ran over his chest, feeling the hard metal beneath the skin where the swords had briefly acted as armor during the explosion.
“I was lucky that my head did not get too damaged… Though dying from one of my own swords being lodged in my brain would be rather funny, all things considered.”
He had not dismissed them entirely. He knew that the moment he dispelled those blades, every wound they held together would rip open again.
"I should wait a day or two, then I can sew them back up normally," he muttered, groaning as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his arms. Everything felt stiff and uncooperative. The metallic parts embedded in his body were never meant to bend, and he could sense that any abrupt movement would make the tiny blades dig deeper, tearing fresh damage along the way.
When he’d been a Servant, he’d relied on the enhanced recovery from a Master's energy that could even allow entire limb regeneration. Same thing as a Counter Guardian but better.
Here, that was not the case.
"Can't believe I survived that," he breathed out quietly, staring at the reflection of a man held together by steel rather than luck.
He had truly been ready to die back then, bracing himself for an end he had met far too many times in the past. Between numerous battles against other Servants who could burn down the entirety of Fuyuki, facing volatile bursts of power exploding right in front of his face had, over the years, settled into something close to routine for the Servant of the Bow. He took a slow breath, feeling the dull throb under his skin, when a voice came from right outside the room.
"You barely look human anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I am the sister or if you and Esdeath are related by blood."
He turned toward the corridor and saw Najenda, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. Her hair, still wet and clung to her face, and a towel hung loosely around her neck while she stood otherwise bare, wholly unconcerned with her state. She watched him with an expression that hovered somewhere between boredom and something faintly troubled.
“I would find the idea of her and me being related very… disturbing,” he said, not even bothering to make any comments about her lack of clothes, for he has gotten used to her behaviour years ago.
"All four of us had to carry you very carefully. You were so fragile. Like a vase freshly glued back together, where a single careless move would cause it to fall apart again. Having all the swords sticking out was troublesome, some spears mixed in so we could grab the hafts if needed would have been helpful."
The man smirked. "I’ll keep that in mind. Also, yeah, I can imagine that. Must not have been a great sight," he said with a tired hint of amusement. He focused briefly and dismissed a few of the manifested blades stitched into the skin around his shoulders. The moment he dismissed one though, a sharp sting ran across his upper arm.
"Tch."
Of course, he had been a bit too quick. A thin ribbon of blood began to slide down his side, though the injury itself was shallow enough that a few more proper stitches would fix it. Before he could comment, the silver-haired woman beside him stepped forward.
"Idiot, why are you in such a hurry?" she scolded. Grabbing a towel, wiped away the trail of blood, then reached for fresh stitching materials. While working to close the wound in silence, Najenda fully focused on her task. Only for frustration to cross her expression when the needle met resistance by hitting a metallic surface when going right under the upper layer of skin.
“Are you fucking made of swords now? This is ridiculous!”
The irony of those particular choice of words was not lost on the white-haired man, for she was technically not wrong. “I might as well be right now.”
“Somehow I am still not shocked.”
“You rarely get shocked about anything regarding me.”
“Thanks to you,” she hissed silently. "Besides… we should be focusing on something more pressing. You are surprisingly calm," Najenda noted without a hint of emotions betraying her true feelings — keeping a stoic face.
"Me being too calm? I should be telling you that. You are disturbingly calm compared to Leone and the others," he replied. The blonde assassin had practically been vibrating with nerves earlier, eyeing him as if he were a breath away from collapsing again. "They had enough time to let out their frustration while I was unconscious. I guess that helped them. Things worked out in the end."
The woman's eyes twitched.
"You have a terrible habit of dismissing any topics when it's related to you, I've noticed,” she said dryly before shaking her head when all he gave her was a casual shrug, neither denying or agreeing with her statement. “And I suppose you think I did not have the opportunity to vent mine." Najenda stepped closer, tilting her head at him
"Do not circle around it. It is not like you. Speak clearly. Just say what you have in mind."
"Silly boy," she continued before he could answer. "I practically raised you. I know you well enough to expect vague answers and half truths. Do not try to fool your big sister, you idiot. It will not work on me. It might work on the others and it even has on Esdeath, but not me." She tapped his shoulder lightly, and he winced at the brief shock of pain. The expression that crossed his face was caught immediately.
He could not deny her words, for she was right. Somehow, this woman had gained the ability to somehow just know whenever he was lying or telling a half truth. How? He was uncertain himself.
Such an ability had only been replicated less than a handful of times with some of his Masters — including a certain twintailed Magus.
"I knew you were an odd one the moment Father brought you back from whichever village at the edge of the northern regions he found you," she said. "I never believed you were a normal boy. From the beginning you refused to act like one… what kind of normal person becomes friends with Esdeath even?"
"I could say the same to you," he answered with a small laugh. Both of them had grown in ways far different from ordinary children in the eyes of any outsiders. He for obvious reasons could never tell her openly, and Najenda due to the harshness of her upbringing and the expectations placed on her long before she had been ready by being the heiress to a military family with generations of Imperial generals.
"Are you going to do that again?" she asked. Her voice dropped to a low whisper, her hands slowing as she leaned in, letting her forehead rest gently against his shoulder. Hair hid her face from him, giving him no clue about the look she wore at that moment.
It did not take a mind reader to know what she was trying to say.
"I don't know," he replied honestly. It would have been easy to lie, but it would have been wrong. "I would certainly prefer not to, but it is part of my Magecraft. I don't use it because I want to get hurt, I can't exactly not make it that horrific, and I only used it because I didn’t want to die. The outcome you saw was not pretty, sure. Though I'd argue that without it I would not be standing here right now."
He exhaled quietly, taking a moment to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Sorry I scared you. It must have been an ugly sight."
When was the last time he wrapped his arm around her like this? The man tried to sift through memories from their past, yet none of them placed a clear moment in front of him. Perhaps it had been that evening when he dragged her out of that chaotic celebration before everything spiraled. Najenda had never been fond of gestures that looked tender. She always claimed they weakened her image, that they softened the discipline she tried to maintain. Still, he had long known that she appreciated these small moments even if she refused to admit it aloud. Beneath all the stubborn layers she carried like armor, she simply refused to show how easily warmth could reach her.
It was cute, and he made sure to always let her know, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he would get.
“Hm?”
While he remained deep in these thoughts, something soft brushed the side of his face. Her lips touched his cheek with the faint fragrance of lavender reaching his nose, close enough that the faint warmth of her skin stayed on his skin as her chest leaned and pressed against his shoulders.
“I’m just glad that you’re here. I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time.”
He let out a small chuckle. “Careful there. Don’t tempt fate. Also it’s not as bad as you think. It hurts at first, but the adrenaline makes the worst of it fade before you even notice.”
Najenda finished making the stitch and bit through the string with her teeth, tightening the last knot before checking her work with a look of satisfaction. “Don’t forget to clean this area and everywhere else every day. No, forget that. I’ll just handle it myself. You can’t risk anything right now, for all I know you'll just end up covered in swords once more if I let you.”
“There’s no need for that,” he said, though he already knew she would ignore him.
“Why? Are you getting shy now? I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. It’s not like I don’t already know what’s down there.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew that arguing would only give her another reason to tease him, so he shifted the conversation instead. The question had been lingering in his mind since she mentioned it earlier.
“If Leone is sleeping, Mine is recovering, and the others are working around the base to keep it secured, but I haven't seen Tatsumi yet. You said he was in the dungeon? He’s been down there for a while. Who exactly is he looking after?”
A difficult expression settled over Najenda’s face, tightening her jaw and dimming her usual confidence. She hesitated and finally spoke with a quiet sigh. “Well… hah, well it's complicated.”
{Break}
-Night Raid Dungeon-
The sound of water dripping echoed through the underground chamber, each drop striking the surface of a shallow puddle that reflected the faint glow of lantern light. The room had no sunlight, not even the slightest trace of it. The air carried a heavy scent of damp stone, mould and long-settled decay. Tatsumi pushed his way deeper into the narrow path without reacting to the discomforting sensation of the environment and his aching limbs. After these last days of constant exposure to wounds, exhaustion, and the dismal state of the temporary base, his tolerance for unpleasant environments had grown significantly.
“Ouch,” he muttered as one wrong step caused him to bump a wall and put pressure on one of the many bruises he had a hard time forgetting about, staggering briefly before steadying himself. He was wrapped in bandages from the top of his head to the bottom of his legs, and his right side relied heavily on the crutch he’d been given. A plaster secured the side of his left arm, completing the mismatched set of injuries he carried like a second uniform.
“Unfortunately I couldn’t cook anything today. I overestimated how well my body was holding up. Even being near heat makes everything sting like hell.” His tone tried to sound, light but half of it came out tired.
“…”
As expected, there was no answer from the person behind the metal bars. Tatsumi could not tell if the silence came from stubbornness or simple refusal. He had stopped trying to guess. “My friends have been getting stricter with me lately. Sayo especially. She’s basically been acting like she adopted me. Making sure I eat enough, yelling at me if I stand up too fast and checking every bandage even though she’s still recovering herself. But I’ve gotten used to that side of her. Iyasu has too.”
He lowered the tray to the ground and pushed it gently through the narrow opening of the cell door for meals. “It’s not much, but it should help.” A soft groan slipped past his lips as he lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the cold stone behind him. The chill helped steady the jumble of thoughts running through his head.
“Everyone got beaten up in that last attack. Even Emiya has been in a coma for days. You wouldn’t believe the state he was in. Trying to explain it sounds ridiculous so I won’t bother. Mine almost lost her leg from what the doctor said. It’ll take her a long time to recover and she needs to rest for the next few months.”
The figure inside the cell shifted the moment he mentioned one of those names.
“We found something else on the field. Completely unresponsive. No movement, no reaction, nothing at all. And he still hasn’t changed since then.”
Once again nothing but silence greeted him, making the boy release a long sigh once more while his gaze drifted across the dim cell. “I didn't come here to try to change your mind. It is clear enough that I’d be walking straight into a fool’s errand if I tried… again. You have shown yourself to be stubborn, reckless, and a danger to everyone around you, yet I still chose this option. Not to build anything new or to hold onto some flimsy hope that you would suddenly understand what I have been trying to show you, but as a final gesture from me. A goodbye from someone who has done everything he could. I feel like I have repaid my debt and there is nothing left tying me to the past.” His voice softened for a brief moment as he offered a small, saddened smile before the expression faded into something colder.
“I cannot afford to put them in danger again. What kind of fool would I be if I did? Not only them, but my childhood friends as well. Iyeasu and Sayo survived today because luck decided to side with us for once, and I am not planning on relying on a second miracle to clean up after my past mistakes, or the mistakes I might make in the future. So I am saying this clearly. If you try something, if I see even a hint of betrayal on your face, if you glare at someone the wrong way, if you throw a pebble at anyone out of spite or revenge, then understand that I will be the one to end you before you can draw your next breath.”
The hold on his Teigu tightened, several glowing marks spreading across the user’s body and filling the cell with faint light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Tatsumi kept his eyes forward, showing no regret for anything he said. “If this choice ends up being a mistake, then no matter where you run in this world, no matter where you try to hide or what outcome you think you are ready to accept, I will find you, and I will not hesitate next time.” The markings slowly dimmed as the light receded and the cell sank back into its quiet gloom.
He meant every word down to the last breath.
“I asked Miss Najenda again today if what I did was a mistake. Do you know what she told me?” Tatsumi paused for a moment, remembering how difficult approaching the woman had been. Especially when he felt like he had wasted an opportunity her brother gave him.
“She told me that trying to save someone is not always a mistake. And that sometimes you save a person from themselves, from what they might eventually turn into.”
As for asking this question to Emiya… the truth was that the boy had been both frightened and ashamed to face him. For someone who had been pushed to the edge of death more times than any of them, someone who barely held onto life after everything that happened, coming back only to hear the full extent of what Tatsumi had done could easily have been taken as an insult.
But it was almost as if Najenda read his thoughts back then and said something she believed her brother would tell him. “You cannot save everyone. But it is still worth trying.”
He closed his eyes, letting those words settle as memories drifted back to the moment from a few days earlier, the instant before the explosions, right as he drove the blade forward.
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(A few days before)
The heat pulsed like a steady drum against Tatsumi’s skin, grounding him in the middle of the wrecked clearing while his face held a mixture of regret, anger, sadness and reluctance.
He stood with his weight pressed against the hilt of his sword, the blade already buried through the right shoulder of the brunette beneath him. The strike had split flesh and shattered the strange mechanical pieces grafted beneath her skin. Blood mixed with sparks as each broken part gave way. A disgusting sound followed when, with one quick movement, he sliced through the last tendons, remaining muscle fibers, weakened bone and the metallic threads that held everything together. The ground under them darkened quickly into a thick crimson sheet. His breathing echoed inside his head, joined by the heavy sensation of his heartbeat that made the scene feel even more overwhelming than it already was.
She did not scream.
She did not resist the blow itself.
Her eyes stared upward with an empty, distant look, almost as if the girl had accepted the moment her fate had been sealed — then her lips parted.
“…Tatsumi?”
Her voice sounded uncertain, as though she could not understand how the situation had reached this point. Most likely trying to make sense of the entire thing but unable to believe that the person holding the sword had not used it to pierce her skull and end her life once and for all.
“I will not give up. You will not get anything out of me,” she said, her tone strained with stubborn anger that refused to fade even while injured. Tatsumi’s grip tightened around the sword Emiya had given him. So much so that his knuckles turned white from the pressure. The frustration inside him had been rising long before this moment, and whatever limit he once had was already gone.
“You idiot, look around you for once and open your eyes!? What part of any of this looks normal to you?” he demanded. He swept his arm out at the battlefield around them. A few bodies from her group lay still and lifeless on the cracked earth. Those same people had been changed into something monstrous, twisted by experiments carried out by the very one she chose to follow. They had died at the hands of the target they were meant to eliminate.
“All of these people were turned into monsters. Experimented on by the one you sided with. Look at yourself. How much of this is even human anymore? Does any of this still have anything to do with justice anymore? You are not fighting for justice. You are doing this out of revenge, and the longer I'm dealing with you, the more I'm starting to understand that you did not believe in justice in the first place.”
Her eyes widened, fury filling her entire expression.
“I'll fucking kill you for say—”
“—Where was my justice, huh!?” he shouted back, cutting her off. “Where were the people who were supposed to keep my friends safe when they were captured by those nobles and tortured for their entertainment? How are people like them allowed to hold power and act like nothing wrong was done after everything they did? Where was my justice when I was accused of things I never did? Where were you when it actually mattered, when evidence should have been found instead of taking Ogre’s word for it when he slapped a title on me and called me a criminal without looking into anything? You just accepted whatever was brought to your feet blindly!”
His voice trembled with a lot of anger that remained pushed within his mind for days.
“You talk about justice. You talk about helping the weak. You talk about maintaining order and to make the Capital a better place. But you failed! It is because of incompetence like yours that the Empire ended up like this! It is because of people who were tasked with upholding justice only to look the other way that Night Raid even had to form! If justice existed anywhere in this Empire, none of us would be here right now!”
One after another, each word came out without pause. He had never realized how much resentment he’d been holding inside himself, and perhaps… he at least hoped that she could feel every accusation. He grabbed her collar with his free hand, arm drawn back with a fist he barely kept from striking her again. Rage burned through him, not just at her but at everything that had brought them to this point.
He hated how his friends had been mutilated and reduced to test subjects on their first day in the Capital. He hated how powerless he had been to protect them. He hated how he had been foolish enough to cling to optimism despite the warnings from the elders back home and from the travelers he’d met along the road. More than that, he hated himself for failing so many times. If it were not for Night Raid, he knew he would have been standing here as an entirely different person, someone driven only by revenge rather than hope. If he’d even lived long enough to make it this far without them.
Worst of all, he hated that the girl he once admired, the one he had believed was good at heart, now stood before him as nothing more than a tool sent to kill them. The kind soul she used to be was now lost, replaced by a hollow version of herself shaped by the Empire’s cruelty.
“You killed Ogre,” she whispered, her voice catching between breaths. Tears streamed quietly down her cheeks. “You all killed my family,” she muttered with whatever sliver of strength still clung to her battered body, her voice trembling like a leaf caught in the wind.
“…”
Even after he pulled her arm free, no more blood seemed to spill from the wound. The absence of further bleeding made him question how much she had been altered and how much of her was still human rather than machine. He steadied his breath as he spoke. “I did not kill Ogre. I will say it as many times as I have to, and what makes this even more frustrating is that I know somewhere deep inside you also understand that I did not kill him.”
For a brief moment her eyes flickered. Memories of their training drifted through his mind, of countless bouts where they clashed and tested each other’s limits. She had seen his strength and weaknesses firsthand, and he knew she understood exactly where he stood. “You trained me. You sparred with me more times than I can count. You assessed my skill again and again. You would have known better than anyone that I was never strong enough to kill Ogre even if I had wanted to kill him. Even before that, when I was in the cell, you accused me of other crimes I never committed… You didn't even try to hear my side.”
Her breathing grew uneven as she forced out her reply. “It does not matter. At the end of the day you joined Night Raid.” She pushed back with words that no longer tried to argue his earlier points. Whether it was acceptance settling into her or simply the idea that she saw no reason to change his mind, she kept going. “You became part of the problem.”
“I did. I joined what you see as a group of criminals who kill people associated with the Empire for a price. But looking at the things your own side has done lately, I would say you have become no better, you just kill people because those in power find them inconvenient rather than for money.” His voice earned a brief spark of outrage from her, a flicker of the old fire she once carried proudly. “One chance. One chance is all I asked. I remember the lessons you drilled into me, how gathering evidence matters before you strike, how justice means understanding the truth before you judge anyone. I am asking for that same thing now, yet you refuse to give it to me.”
“It does not matter anymore,” she whispered, her voice growing thinner by the moment. Whether she was about to lose consciousness from blood loss or something else entirely, he could not tell. “I'm going to… I… am going to correct my mistakes.”
“Hm?”
But even in her weakened state his senses erupted when he felt a bone chilling shift in the air, a creeping pressure that made every instinct in him go completely haywire. Tatsumi focused on the girl pinned beneath him and saw a faint smirk form on her lips, a strange glint flashing behind her left eye. The glow looked unnatural, like light trying to force itself through her skull.
“E-Even if… cough! I-I wanted to survive, even if I… I wanted to live and accept your apology, it is already too late. Yo-you… and every single Night Raid fucker here is coming with me. Justice has finally been served.” Her weak grin widened as the glow behind her eye grew brighter, a yellow light shining through the very flesh of the brunette and outlining the edges of her skull with a sickening radiance.
‘What’s that?’
His eyes widened as the world slowed to a crawl around him. Without asking anyone or needing confirmation, he already understood what was happening; or rather had a faint idea. Though that alone proved to be more than enough to make him move immediately. There was a real chance that he was looking at the final moment of his life. Shambhala sat within reach. It should have been simple. Grab it. Activate it. Escape whatever nightmare she was about to unleash.
Yet instead of fear or regret, another emotion ignited in his mind. Anger.
‘There are others around… Sheele!’
A rising fury that burned hotter than the panic tightening around his ribs. “No you are not,” he growled, refusing to let history repeat itself and have someone else being put in danger because of his choices.
He had no idea what she had activated, how wide its range was, or what destruction it promised. At that moment, Tatsumi only knew one thing; that he had to remove it. Whatever she carried inside her posed a danger not only to him but to everyone else that was anywhere near it. His grip tightened around his sword, his jaw clenched and he made his choice.
Feelings be damned.
He raised his blade and drove it straight into her glowing eye.
“A-Aaaaaaaah—!!!!”
Her face twisted in shock, disbelief freezing her features before the pain followed close behind. A guttural scream was ripped from her throat, but he no longer cared. He pulled the weapon free in a swift and brutal motion. The brief withdrawal let him see the source of the glow. A metallic sphere pulsed with energy inside the socket, its surface shining with a strange pattern that made his skin crawl.
‘Even some parts of her brain had been modified? Just… just how far was she willing to go? Has this always been like this?’
Not wasting a second, he pushed two fingers into the ruined eye, feeling the warm mix of eye fluid and blood coating his knuckles. His fingertips reached the sphere, and the moment he brushed it, a burning sensation seared across his skin. His other hand moved without hesitation. Activating the Teigu required no complex requirements, a single mental command and Shambhala activated, focusing on the first location that came to mind. Everything around him blurred as the world snapped away in a rush of distorted light.
Woosh!
The sound of rushing water filled the air, a deep and steady roar that rolled along the wide river ahead of him. He had stood by this river countless times in the past during Lubbock's attempts to peek on the girls as they were bathing, usually ending with him getting nearly killed or corporal punishment and harsh scoldings. Now the same river reflected an image of the moon, looking very beautiful despite the current environment, as he released the sphere that had burned his palm so severely that patches of skin had charred black. The device shone with a brightness that rivaled the sun itself before plunging into the depths, the surface bubbling and hissed as if recoiling from its presence. For a single heartbeat everything held still, then the world lurched forward with a savage blast.
Boom!
“Argh!” The explosion struck him full in the face, a wave of water, vapor and scorching heat slamming into him so violently that it tore his Teigu clean out of his grasp. He raised his arms in a desperate attempt to shield his face, but the force overwhelmed every effort. Pain flared across his skin in sharp bursts while he tried to keep his head from smashing into something even worse. His battered body flew backward until he collided with a thick wooden tree, the impact splintering the bark. Tatsumi was sent rolling across the ground without control, tumbling downwards until he dropped straight into a ravine below.
His ears rang with a piercing shrill that drowned out almost everything else. His vision flickered, blurred and then vanished entirely for a moment as if someone had blown out a candle inside his skull. The pain in his body had not even fully caught up to his mind yet, leaving him stunned in a haze where only partial sensations reached him.
“—!” A sound tried to leave his throat but barely formed.
The destruction did not end with the blast. Even if he could not see, he could feel the earth beneath him shudder in waves. The ground trembled again and again, each shock powerful enough to mimic a mild earthquake. Some tremors were distant, muted like thunder on the horizon. Others hit with the certainty of something detonating dangerously close. The pattern repeated long enough for him to understand one fact with chilling clarity.
There were several of them.
Any assumption he had about the explosion being tied solely to just the device inside Seryu vanished immediately. Whatever had been unleashed was far beyond one single source. He tried to move, tried to command his body to crawl or grab onto something, but every attempt failed. His muscles had already reached their limit and his strength slipped away like sand leaking through open fingers. Not even the intensity of his injuries could keep him awake.
He could not see. He could barely hear. His Imperial Arm was somewhere out of reach. All of that together finally forced him to accept that there was nothing left he could do. Darkness pried at the edges of his fading thoughts until only one final line settled in his mind before he blacked out.
‘I won’t let you take the easy way out of this, Seryu.’
{Break}
(Present)
“You sure you should be walking right now?”
The sunlight warmed Emiya's skin as he stepped outside, its gentle heat washing away the lingering chill of the past days. To him it felt as though he had been trapped indoors for ages. Forced to stay in bed, and more than once did Najenda and Leone had nearly tied him down because they believed he was being too stubborn for his own good. This moment marked the first time he was able to move without several sets of eyes watching him like he was some fragile vase one careless touch away from shattering.
“The bones in my legs have already mended. The wounds I had are starting to heal and the scars will eventually fade with time. I don’t even need to keep some of my stitches on anymore.”
“You mean those mini-magic Emiya swords?” Leone asked, raising a brow.
“Yes, stitches,” he replied with a slight emphasis in his tone on that last word. “I’m far from dying, so you don’t have to worry about me. Rather, I’d prefer you look after yourself. Taking care of your mind is just as important as taking care of your body.”
The blonde assassin gave a small scoff. “You’re the last person I want to hear that from. And I’ve slept enough.”
“Barely for two hours until you suddenly heard me coming back into the room and woke right back up. Give it a rest. At this rate I’ll be the one taking care of you eventually.” He tapped her back lightly a couple of times, showing that he appreciated the care she had given him while also trying to make her understand that he was genuinely fine.
“…” She stared down at the ground, weighing his words before she finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll get some shut-eye, but only on one condition. Just don’t move.”
He obliged, deciding that if giving in for a moment meant she would finally listen, then he might as well accept it. He expected her to check his body again the way she had done several times before, but she closed the distance between them with abrupt confidence and dragged her tongue along the side of his face. The strange warmth of her tongue gliding across his skin caught him off guard, enough for him to take a quick step back and stare at her with a puzzled look.
“I am genuinely starting to question if you are becoming an actual animal because of your Imperial Arm.” It was not even the first time he had dealt with something like this. At this point he was starting to think she was not doing it just to annoy him but because something inside her pushed her toward these odd impulses.
The blonde only grinned at him. “It’s just my way of making sure you will be okay and that no one will come to bother you.”
“I still do not follow how that makes sense to you.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense. The intention behind my actions is the only thing that matters, and you should understand that.”
“That is the problem. I do not,” he muttered with a dry tone. “Anyway, just go back inside. Shoo. Do not make me bring a water bottle and spray your face.”
“I will spray my fist right into your face before you even try that.”
“You really cannot stop saying things that somehow sound even stranger every time. Although I admit it is amusing how quickly you react whenever the idea of getting sprayed comes up. Maybe I should consider it. Would help to keep you under control.”
She let out a noise very close to a cat’s hiss and turned around sharply before heading back into the temporary base. He stood there smirking, more than aware of the new weapon he could use against her if she got too bold again.
“Now then, where were we,” he said to himself as he looked around the hideout they had taken over. It was smaller than the old base but still an impressive structure carved into the side of a mountain, tucked neatly into the landscape as if it wanted to disappear into the rock. The place had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Cobwebs clung to corners, dust layered the floors so heavily that one could press a finger through several layers, and many of the doors looked like they would fall apart if someone closed them too hard. Only the living area and the bathrooms had seen any real cleaning so far.
“It is going to take a while to set everything right,” he thought. In his current condition even basic cleaning had turned into more effort than he wanted to admit, but he intended to deal with the mess later that evening. Before he could return to his tasks he felt another presence step up beside him, followed by a heavy arm wrapping itself around his shoulder. Instinct rushed through him, and when he turned his head he found himself staring at a metal mask that looked like it had crawled straight out of a nightmare. The eyes were covered with crossed metal plates and the place where the mouth should have been held a round device bolted into the mask.
The mask was a Teigu.
“What the…” he started, struggling to break free from the strong grip. The arm held him firmly enough that even pulling away required far more force than expected. Just as he prepared to take more serious measures, the voice behind the mask finally spoke up.
“Boo! Did I scare you? Looks like I did.”
Emiya froze for a moment and slowly blinked at the man, who finally released him. He stepped back, taking a closer look at the slender device strapped to the man’s waist, something shaped like a wand or a tool. Information flickered in his mind about it, but he pushed it aside when he recognized something more surprising than the weapon.
“Bulat?”
Najenda had told him the man had returned, but seeing him like this was another matter entirely. His hairstyle was no longer neatly combed back the way it had been. Instead it fell loosely to his neck without any gel, giving him a strange and unsettling presence almost that reminded him of an Assassin-class Servant he had once crossed paths with in the past.
Or rather, he just looked closer to the image in his wanted poster.
“You look better,” he said simply.
“More than that,” Bulat said, his voice carrying clearly through the green tint of his mask. “I have never felt stronger. Never thought I would ever say that after the last mission, especially considering I lost an arm.” He gave a firm pat to the metallic construct that had replaced the missing limb, the heavy clang echoing with a solid weight that suited his build. The prosthesis was large and reinforced to match his frame, an impressively advanced piece of craftsmanship considering how this world often felt like it was caught somewhere in the middle ages, weapons technology notwithstanding.
“There was this particular Imperial Arm I wanted to try out. It would have more than compensated for me lacking an arm. But something about it felt wrong to me. It did not sit well, did not match my style and nearly gave me another stroke, hahaha! It would have been ironic if I had died there and not at the hands of an Imperial general! But this one? Hahaha, this one fits me like a glove.” He tapped the mask on his face as if to emphasize the point.
Emiya raised an eyebrow, not disagreeing with the idea that compatibility mattered. Every Teigu picked its wielder as much as the wielder picked the Teigu, and those who forced a bond often ended up in pieces or at minimum a hospital. What confused him was why Bulat, someone who once carried Incursio, would choose this particular replacement.
“Want to test it out?”
Emiya shook his head. “As much as I would enjoy that, I am not exactly in the best condition myself right now. If Najenda even sees me jump or hold a sword, she will drag me off in chains and one of her patented iron grips and lock me inside a basement for another month. I would rather avoid discovering how serious she is about that.”
“Ah.” Bulat let out a disappointed sigh that vibrated through his mask. “That explains why she was mumbling darkly earlier this morning. I was wondering why she asked me to fetch her some chains.”
A chill travelled down Emiya’s spine. He had said it as a joke earlier, never intending for it to be taken literally. The idea that Najenda might be entirely serious unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. “You are joining the group again, then?”
Bulat shrugged. “Wasn’t my spot taken by the newcomer? I spoke with her for a bit. Nice girl. Fits the image of an assassin perfectly with the Teigu she carries. Perfect for spywork too, which I have to admit was sorely needed as we already have plenty of heavy hitters.”
“Somehow I doubt anyone here will try to stop you from returning. Our group is not exactly built on fixed numbers. If there is space, we make space. If we need more, we adjust.”
“Yes, but not yet,” Bulat replied. “I am still nowhere near a level I am satisfied with before I can return to field work. I know I can push myself further. I know I have to push further before I can stand anywhere close to where I used to be.”
Reaching the same level as when he wielded Incursio was… safe to say a monumental task. Not impossible, but the amount of dedication required for such a climb would break most people long before they even reached the halfway point. But Bulat carried a particular kind of stubbornness, and with this particular Teigu, the possibility no longer sounded unreasonable.
“I know it’s a bit selfish for me to ask you something like this right after you’ve barely recovered from your own injuries,” Bulat continued, rubbing the back of his head in a slightly sheepish way that clashed with his imposing frame. “But when you have the time, I want to request something. Could you lend me one of your weapons?”
“Let me guess, a spear?”
“Yup.”
“Humph,” Emiya’s smile came without hesitation. “Of course. But I should warn you that it might not be as durable as the one you used before.”
“I don’t mind, and I highly doubt that given what I heard from the others. Besides, it will only be for a short while. The Revolutionary Army promised to send me a prototype they have been working on; in the meanwhile I just need something that won't break easily. Nothing fancy.”
That caught his attention. He doubted it was another Teigu since not even the Revolutionary Army could recreate them, not to mention that wielding two Teigus simultaneously was a death sentence, but Bulat’s confidence made him curious.
“In any case, I am about to go have a small sparring session with Akame. Come, join me and have a look at how things will go. I wouldn't mind advice on how I can improve.”
After that, both men walked toward a broad clearing where several members of the group were already gathered, most likely waiting for Bulat and Akame to begin. At the center stood Akame, her posture relaxed for today, bandages were wrapped around her body much like the others, though she seemed far less injured compared to everyone aside from Leone, whose Teigu included a healing factor. Most of her bandages had probably been applied for wounds that occurred before the bombs had gone off. Sheele was somehow dozing upright as if sleep could cling to her even in the middle of a crowd. Chelsea lingered nearby with a casual expression, and Lubbock appeared to be in decent condition despite everything that had happened.
"Alright then people! Sorry to keep you waiting! Let's get this started!" Bulat called out, stepping forward while Akame met his gaze. The black-haired woman had already unsheathed her sword, her eyes steady as she took her stance. Emiya moved to sit beside a figure whose face remained completely concealed beneath the hood of his cloak.
One of the other man’s hands was wrapped in plaster, and his other hand rested on a walking stick. A few strands of brown hair slipped out from under the hood, enough for Emiya to identify him. He was watching the clearing intently before giving Emiya a brief, almost shy greeting.
"Hey…" Tatsumi muttered awkwardly, his tone nearly guilty as he looked away. The reaction earned an eye roll from Emiya as he settled beside him. The brown-haired former soldier hesitated a moment, then tried again. "About what happened back then with Seryu… I… well I—"
"I don't care," Emiya said, cutting him off as the sparring match began. The fight opened without theatrics, both Akame and Bulat taking their time, testing each other with simple exchanges. The man used a basic spear and handled it with just one hand; making it clear he was still not used to fighting with his prosthetic. It should have been awkward, yet he moved it with surprising ease that the weapon seemed weightless. He met Akame’s attacks several times, managing to hold his ground despite his disadvantages.
Whether it be by parrying or dodging.
Even so, the moments where his single-arm grip failed to keep up started to add up little by little, and Emiya could see exactly how each small misstep grew on him.
"I already told you back then," he continued, his eyes following Akame’s footwork. "That was your decision to make, and I would go along with whatever you chose. Honestly, I can't say I would have made the same choice, but that’s besides the point. I’m not even sure I could have kept her alive, even if I felt the same way you did back then."
He remembered a similar mistake he had made once, and in Tatsumi’s position he would not have repeated it. Even so, the girl was not Esdeath. She was crippled, not only from the wounds from the battle but also from all the modifications forced onto her body. For reasons they still did not fully understand, the modifications had stopped functioning. The doctor had probably disabled them after triggering the deadman’s switch connected to all his subordinates. Even with her Teigu, she no longer posed much danger since that dog had also become unresponsive. Emiya watched the clash ahead as Akame adjusted her stance, her blade catching the sunlight.
"What happens now?"
"I plan to focus more on my friends, on keeping them safe, and on giving them a better future," Tatsumi said with clear conviction. "After thinking about everything that happened, this world will never be peaceful as long as people like the Prime Minister and his cronies are still in power. So one way or another, I want to see each one of them fall. I want that brat of an Emperor off his throne for good, and I want Honest buried six feet underground where he can do no more harm to anyone ever again. I want proper justice… not whatever version Seryu kept believing in."
"You're sounding very similar to a certain someone right now," he said, though he kept his attention on Bulat’s spear as it narrowly avoided a clean counter.
"She’s been too blinded by their lies," Tatsumi replied. "I don’t see the point in trying to change her mind any more than I already have. I won’t risk another attempt only to fail. I’ve done everything I could, and I’m ready to take my hands out of this matter completely."
“It does not look like that to me. You spared her life, after all, despite all she’s done”
The brown-haired assassin took a deep breath. “When trying to use words to convince her of the truth fails, then I will take her dreams and ideals on what the Empire could become and turn them into something she can witness for herself. I will help the others build a peaceful world where innocent people are not dragged off the streets and treated as playthings by the corrupt higher-ups, where they are not tortured or killed without reason and random soldiers are forced to pay the price as a scapegoat. I will make sure that those who commit evil face the consequences of their actions.”
“Our side has also done plenty of evil,” Emiya said. He knew the boy was not walking the same doomed path as a certain fool from the past, yet the direction was still one that rarely led to anything good. “Even if it’s to strike down a greater evil, that does not make us heroes.”
“I know. I have done horrible things and I will do even more things in the future that are far from good. But if that is the price for the world I want, then I will pay it without complaint. I am not aiming to be a hero. I am an assassin now, through and through.”
“…Interesting,” was all Emiya said.
His attention returned to the clash in front of him, the rhythm of steel and force slowly rising in intensity. The fight had grown more intense, but still a strange balance that those two managed to be maintained. Akame wielded her real blade, and even though a single shallow cut could kill her opponent, there was a clear amount of trust between them. Neither intended to cross that final line. And to his credit, Bulat managed to keep up, matching her pace with steady footwork and careful strikes. He was not trying to overpower her, but seemed to be fighting a slow battle of endurance, waiting for exhaustion to reach her first.
“He is going to lose,” Emiya said. He shifted the subject easily, watching Tatsumi return his focus to the arena just like the rest of the gathered group.
“You think so? I still don’t know what Teigu he uses now, but for him to fight this well against Akame after everything he went through, his recovery must have gone well.”
“No. It is the opposite,” Emiya answered with a tone that carried none of its usual steadiness. “He has not recovered. His body is barely staying upright.”
“Really?” the boy said. The confusion was clear in his expression. From where he stood, the fight seemed almost even. Both sides appeared matched in speed and force, neither giving unnecessary openings.
“Akame is holding back,” Emiya said. “And Bulat has been pushing his body and Teigu far beyond what he should in his condition. He ran out of energy a long time ago. The only reason his body is still fighting is because he refuses to fall.”
Just as he finished speaking, the battle shifted. The exchange that had gone on for what felt like a long stretch suddenly changed direction. Akame moved with a sharp burst of motion, closing the distance in a blink. Her blade came down and pinned Bulat’s spear against the ground while her left hand shot forward. She grabbed the edge of the mask and tore it away, revealing his face to everyone for the first time since the fight began. A clear look of defeat washed over him the moment the mask left his skin.
Akame stepped back and delivered a single punch to his stomach. It did not seem powerful, yet the result was immediate. His entire frame trembled as though every muscle had reached its limit at once. Blood streamed down his face and he crumpled to the ground with a loud thud, folding like a collapsing stack of cards.
“Bulat!” Tatsumi called out and rushed to his side.
The former Servant of the Bow followed calmly, his eyes shifting from the fallen man to the mask lying at his feet. Proceeding to then pick it up and giving it a closer look.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did one of your wounds open back up?” Tatsumi asked, trying to lift Bulat slightly to see if he was still conscious.
"Hahaha, n-no… cough! Ugh, nothing like that," he said with a large grin spread across his face. "I just overestimated myself for a bit. That was a good fight, Akame. Sorry I couldn't make you go all out like I used to before."
"It's okay, I had fun," the woman answered while kneeling beside him, her hand settling on his forehead and giving the man several head pats. “You were surprisingly dangerous… I couldn't read your movements like before.”
"I tried. You really get a huge rush from the enhancement."
"Enhancement?" Tatsumi blinked at that word, the confusion obvious enough that he turned instinctively toward the one person who always seemed to have the clearest explanations.
Emiya stood a short distance away, studying the mask in his hands. When he noticed the glance aimed at him from across the group, he raised an eyebrow. "All of you already know what this is. Why look at me?"
"Well you're the explanation guy, our personal dictionary and walking history book, so it's better if you tell him rather than us," Lubbock said with a shrug. Sheele tilted her head a little, eyes narrowing in mild puzzlement.
"I don't know what it is."
"I just literally told you three times in the past hour!" Lubbock exclaimed.
"Oh. I forgot."
Seeing how the back-and-forth was turning in circles, Emiya simply decided to take control of the situation and turned his full attention toward Tatsumi. "What you see here is Bulat's usual physical state. He did not collapse because Akame inflicted any significant damage. His body simply cannot maintain the same movement it normally could after being pushed to that level, even with all the resting he has done."
"Eh? But he was just fighting against her so ferociously that he didn't even look weakened!" Tatsumi said, his voice rising in disbelief. Emiya lifted the mask he held, its surface catching the light.
"It is because of this mask. Balzac. It is quite an interesting Imperial Arm because it offers no offensive or defensive abilities. Instead, it acts as a support tool that affects only its host. When worn, it forces the user to reach their current physical and mental peak. That was what he meant by the enhancement."
It was much like some forms of enhancement Magecraft, the sort that did not carry the danger of overloading a limb with magical energy and causing it to explode if performed incorrectly. In this world, the term covered many methods, but this particular one surpassed the usual approach because it strengthened not just the body but the mind as well. With both sharpened, Bulat had been able to read Akame's movements rather easily, deflecting and parrying with instincts almost too quick to follow.
But that did not mean he would be able to keep up since the difference in skills and stamina, along with the fact that he had yet to fully adapt to his new prosthetic arm. He had even thrown out believable feints, something his previous self in his prime would have done only after considerable focus. In the right hands, Balzac would be a frightening tool.
It fully unlocked one's physical and mental capabilities at their present limit.
"I still have a long way to go then," Bulat said as Emiya handed him back the mask. The familiar weight settled into his hands before he placed it over his face again. The effect was immediate. A thrum of strength pulsed through him and he rose to his feet effortlessly, bouncing lightly to test the renewed power running through his limbs. "I'll keep playing with this for a while. Tatsumi, I hope you're ready to join me again for our regular exercises and training routine. This time I will be much stricter with you and with myself."
"Yes, Aniki!" Tatsumi replied cheerfully. He then turned toward Emiya with a bright grin. "Want to join as well?"
He gave that offer some thought. Right now, he felt his body would definitely benefit from some very light exercise rather than staying glued to a bed.
"Sure."
Comments
SsanghwaSilver
Nice peaceful chapter. Just my own opinion. But mercy kill Seryu already. Some characters I care little for redemption. For example the game Injustice version of Superman. I wouldn't protest if such people were redeemed but I prefer them to just simply end.
Nerozaz
And done. Finally read it all. This is a fun little crossover. Will be interesting to see where it goes.
