Imagine you faced all evils of the world. All the darkness; all the terrors; all the wounds; all the sin.

Everything that destroys human happiness stands before you, and you—perhaps you alone—have the ability to kill it.

All you must do is pick up the sword.

It lays before you, glittering gold, shining with a divine light: a holy sword for a holy purpose.

But you can't pick it up.

You strain; your muscles ache, your body weeps, your spirit snaps, your patience dries, and yet still—

You cannot pick up the sword.

People die before you, slaughtered by the thing you swore to slay; armies march and nations fall and innocents die. But you can do nothing.

Nothing but train, hoping one day to grasp that holy sword.

Such was the heart of Emiya Shirou in the weeks following his arrival in Vale.

Unlimited Blade Works held all the power he needed to destroy the Grimm and what he suspected was their dark heart. The world of swords, centered round that lonely hill, was always with him, but he could never grasp it.

He didn't have enough mana, to put it simply.

His sword skills had drawn close to his future self's level, in those days of exposure during the Fifth Holy Grail War; but the level of development of his Magic Circuits had not undergone the decades of training and strengthening that Archer's had. Nor did he have the backing of a contract with Alaya.

If he wished to unlock his true potential, he needed more. As he had when Rin lent him her crest during the final fight with Gilgamesh—a source of mana which ran out by the end.

So as he walked and talked, doing simple honest work, the thought never left his mind, always lurking in the shadows:

Emiya Shirou needed more power, if he was going to save anyone.

But the power which would come through training alone would take a very long time indeed…

#

There was a murder.

Whispers raced through the taverns, as such vague but morbidly interesting gossip tends to do, till it reached Shirou's ears one late night in early summer.

He had just entered a pub for a quick drink, having finished a few courier runs through the forest, killing any Grimm he found, when the news plopped before him in the form of Sierra, the girl he 'saved'.

It was a quick conversation, all things considered, beginning with Shirou jumping right to the point.

"There've been murders."

"Yes," Sierra said, "the most recent being near a highway in the Emerald Forest." Her face turned dark. "A Beacon student, this time."

Beacon Academy. Shirou had heard the name when he researched Huntsmen training and certification. A prestigious school; the students would have to excel at battle to even enter as a first year.

Which meant the student likely didn't die to Grimm. Not on a well traveled highway to Beacon.

"Murdering a student? More so one hunting Grimm… What motivation would they have? Aren't Grimm the common enemy of everyone?"

"You'd think so, right?" But Sierra tilted her head, frowning. "I've also heard other troubling news recently. Dust shipments being robbed. Terrorism on the rise. Grimm attacking more frequently."

"All starting within the past few weeks?"

"Yes. To be more specific, starting from the attack on Ferentael. Where I met you." She said, giving him a genuine smile. But Shirou wasn't paying attention.

Beginning when I arrived, he thought, his heart chilling. This isn't a coincidence. The Holy Grail did something else when it sent me here. The Grimm were already here, to be sure; but something happened. I sense it's touch-its curses-in every Grimm I see.

And I still don't know why I felt so weak when I first fought them.

Something's not adding up.

"Shirou?"

"Hmm?" He blinked, glancing at Sierra, who had a concerned look as she bent towards him.

"You're not thinking of doing anything rash, are you? There's a killer on the loose. And if they can kill a Beacon student—"

"Don't worry," he said, smiling. "I'll be careful."

Judging by the way she bit her lip as she watched him, she didn't believe him. After a pause, a light seemed to go off in her head, as she suddenly clapped her hands together with a smile. "I know! Let me hire you for a job!"

"Huh?"

"I need an escort to Beacon! There's someone I want to meet there, but the road heads through the Emerald Forest, where Grimm might be lurking. And as I don't know or trust anyone local besides you..." She beamed at him, evidently pleased with her plan.

Shirou gave a sigh. "Certainly, I can help protect you, but all the way to Beacon—"

"I can help you meet some instructors there, you know." She gave him an inquisitive look. "If you want to become a Huntsman."

At the mention of instruction, he paused. There was much he still didn't know of this world, especially regarding whether he had aura. He had tried to unlock it himself, but nothing happened. Not even a stir of his magic circuits.

An instructor could help him learn more about aura. If it mattered so much for Huntsmen, perhaps a secret lay there regarding a way for Shirou to increase his own mana reserves. Reading about it in a book is much different from speaking with a living user of aura to hunt Grimm.

"Sure," he said. A smile lit Sierra's face, leading Shirou to smile in return. "I'll keep you safe."

"Then we leave tomorrow?"

They shook on it. "Tomorrow."

She turned to leave, her silver hair swaying; but she stopped at the door. "I just had a funny thought, Shirou; you never get excited when we talk about anything besides murder and robberies and people needing help. It's like you're attracted to that sort of stuff, huh?" She laughed. "Attracted to despair and suffering."

She said so in a joking manner, but a thought lingered in Shirou's mind. Attracted to suffering and despair, indeed—

Just like the Grimm.

Just like Kotomine Kirei.

Just like the Holy Grail...

#

Shirou rose bright and early the next morning, except it wasn't bright at all. Storm clouds hung over the horizon, their color a damp grey, the faint echo of thunder promising a darker day than most.

He met with Sierra and embarked down the path snaking through the woods on the way to Beacon.

Overall, it wasn't supposed to be a long trip; and even if it were, Shirou was sociable enough with Sierra that it would pass quickly with their idle chatter. Even if he wasn't, she would make up for it; quick to laugh, a pleasant face with a sunny smile, silver hair with striking amber eyes—it would be hard to dislike speaking with her. She had a charm of her own.

Hours passed with peaceful chatter, the forest around them filled with the chitters of woodland creatures, till they reached a point in the road about an hour away from Beacon. Close to the area where the Beacon student disappeared and wound up dead.

They heard a noise horribly out of place around a bend in the road ahead.

A long and low creak, it almost sounded like. A whisper.

Sierra stiffened and Shirou paused for a moment, holding a hand back to keep her behind him, and edged forward, his hands extended, ready to grasp projected versions of Kanshou and Bakuya if he called them.

But when he rounded the bend, he saw nothing. An empty road. Furthermore—

The woods had fallen silent.

Silence has always had the special quality of being either too empty or too full: a silence pregnant with meaning or a silence empty of meaning; a silence which speaks louder than words, or a silence merely an absence of words.

A silence of a lack of a presence—or a silence of something watching you.

Shirou had the feeling he and Sierra were not alone.

"Shirou?" Sierra whispered, her voice taut with anxiety; "is everything alright?"

"It's nothing," he said, with a pause; "—nothing at all."

With a cautious, slow gait, Shirou advanced around the bend and down the forest road, Sierra close behind.

Only when they approached the heart of the forest did Shirou stop, and only then to shiver; for the forest's heart had about it the air of a place both too dangerous to be in and too important not to be. The shadows whispered and swayed, as if possessed by dark spirits; but they were certainly wicked spirits he had to face. The clouds above had long since turned a dark grey, shadowing the threatening and deadly mood of the forest; and yet the darkness present, Shirou felt, would be little compared to the darkness which would come to be, if he did not seek to stop it.

Something was present, here in the darkness. Something terrible and cloaked in shadows; but also something important to him. To his destiny.

To his fate.

He could hear, almost like a whisper, a tune—or, perhaps, not a sound at all, but a calling, a pull, a draw of his heart; but one that sounded like a singular, faraway chime in a melody so ancient he couldn't recognize—coming from something he could glimpse, not far in the distance.

A clearing in the middle of the woods.

When he started veering away from the path, Sierra whispered, in a panicked tone: "Shirou? Why we are leaving the road? Shirou!"

"There's…" Shirou paused. Rationally speaking, they were in a bad position. Night was near, and they were not far from Beacon, but there was no doubt of what they felt: a blanket of stillness over a forest full of terrors. The calm before the storm.

Something terrible was coming.

Steeling his resolve, he glanced back at the girl.

"We have to fight."

She shivered, and Shirou winced. This was the last thing he wished; to frighten and endanger. He only wanted to protect her. To save her.

But it couldn't be helped, so to speak. Leaving her alone would be as good as killing her, and as much as his reason considered moving past this clearing—running for the nearest city—his intuition, his heart, called him to it.

And whatever lay there was waiting for him.

Simply running past it may spare her from immediate danger—or it might cause the thing to chase after them, which could endanger more lives.

Or, perhaps—

The thing itself needed saving.

Either way, his path was clear.

"Alright," she said with a whisper. Shirou nodded, giving her a slight smile and reassuring pat on the shoulder, before moving off the road towards the clearing.

Breaking through the slight underbrush, they emerged in the clearing: a simple circle of grass undisturbed.

Someone was waiting.

The form was a shadow, humanoid and familiar, but unfocused. It stood with a haughty smile and bloodied hands, and only after it began to move towards Shirou did he recognize it.

"Kotomine," he said, his eyes narrowing.

The shadow figure laughed, the sound as mocking as ever. "Rejoice, boy. Your wish to see me again has been granted."

"I never wished that!"

"Don't lie," he said; "lying does not become a hero of Justice. In your heart of hearts, Emiya Shirou: you like me." He smirked. "But such a thing is irrelevant. I didn't call you here to chat."

"Then for what?"

"To fight." And with those words, the shadow Kirei leapt towards Shirou, bloodied hands extended.

With a shout, Shirou's hands blazed with blue lightning; and Kanshou and Bakuya flew up to meet Kirei, their blades clashing against his hands with shrieks of steel.

"Do you believe you can best me?"

His hands held against the steel for a moment before withdrawing and whipping out again, fast and rapid like snakes. This time, they converged on Kanshou swinging upwards and struck it hard enough to shatter the projected blade. Shirou slid back, blinking at his hand with surprise—abruptly covered in blood. Only after a moment did he realize it wasn't his own.

Such power!

"Wait—that blood… Were you the murderer in the recent killings?!"

The fake priest didn't respond, sprinting towards Shirou again. With another projection filling the place of the past, the twin blades swept to meet him, only for both to be shattered.

"Hmph," said Kirei. "You do not have enough, it seems. You lack power behind your swords."

"Nonsense!"

The priest only smiled. "Power is not a thing gained easily, boy. It's no fault of yours; you simply don't have enough. Curse your father for letting none of his magic slip into your hands before he died."

They clashed again, fake steel clashing against hands masquerading as steel. A fake hero against a fake priest.

"Have you ever wondered," murmured the priest, his eyelids heavy, his gaze intense, right in front of Shirou's face, "at the power you would have had from the Grail?"

Shirou snarled, pushing forward, knocking the priest back a step. "There was no power to be had. That Grail—there was nothing left but curses."

"And are not curses power?" Laughed the priest, sliding by Shirou's slashes with a simple grace. Almost like a dance, effortlessly dodging every strike. "Kiritsugu knew that best of all. Why else would he center his life around them? A life spent fighting the curses of Man, sacrificing everything to attain his ideal world, free of this power which he had no other way to defeat."

Shirou slowed to take a breath, keeping a grip on his swords through sweaty hands.

Am I this tired already?

"You lie."

With a sudden burst, Kirei's shadowed form rushed forward, hands like twin rapiers, thrusting towards his neck and abdomen. Shirou lifted a hand, focusing on the impenetrable shield once more, Rho Aias—

Only the first pedal appeared, shattered once more by the fake priest. Shirou stepped back, gasping.

Why do I have so little mana? Why now?! I've been able to do so much more, but ever since that disastrous fight at Ferentael—

"I do not lie, Emiya Shirou," said the priest, his mocking laugh highlighting the deep tones of his voice. "You were reforged in the Fuyuki Fire because of curses. You sought to be a hero of justice because of curses. You even found your wish, only possible due to the existence of curses, only born because of Kiritsugu's experience of curses. Everything you are and everything you want to become begins and ends with All Evils of the World."

Shirou knew he was in a bad position. For some reason unknown to him, he was weak; weaker than he ought to be. Weak as he was when he first arrived in this world. He was tired; empty of mana; barely hanging on, physically.

But he couldn't let that insult stand.

"Kiritsugu didn't save me because of curses." The words empowered him, rekindling a fire ever burning in the depths of his heart. "Kiritsugu wasn't happy because of the curses. Kiritsugu didn't choose his ideal because of the curses! He chose them because of something beautiful—something he wanted to protect! Something he wanted to save!"

If there were a single moment at the heart of Unlimited Blade Works, it would be that moment: the tearful, heartfelt smile of Kiritsugu upon saving Emiya Shirou.

"And yet," said the priest, "he could only save you because of the power he gained fighting curses; and you could only be saved because all evils of the world caused the Fuyuki Fire to begin with."

"Saving people isn't wrong."

"But you can't save anyone without the power to do so." The priest laughed. "After all—

"Could I not kill you this instant?"

The priest rushed forward with a relentless assault. Shirou threw himself into the defense, passing the point where he had nothing, drawing on his own body to fuel his most desperate defense.

Swords spawned, only to be immediately lost; a barrage of punches yielded a shower of shattered projected steel. Shirou's defense slowed, and his heart began to sink.

"Shirou."

A voice behind him. With a slowly registering shock, he recalled that he had someone else there: Sierra. The one he was escorting. Some part of his mind thought on how absurd it was that only now she chose to speak or react, but the thought was soon lost in the frenzy.

"You can't win this as you are," she said, her voice soft. "The priest is right; you're holding yourself back."

"It's not holding yourself back to reject the curses of Anra Mainiiu!" Shirou cried out, fighting against the tide of force from Kirei's attacks. "What power is there in a corrupted Grail? Who can such a thing save?!"

"It's not the Grail I was speaking about," she said. "It's the fact you never accept what is necessary."

The priest began to laugh.

Sierra's voice, like silk, continued to speak as if she was singing. "You cannot save everyone, Emiya Shirou. Salvation requires sacrifice; and from sacrifice comes power."

"What do you mean?!"

"She means the same thing Kiritsugu did," Kirei said. "He did whatever it took to save the world."

With a final barrage, the final of his swords shattered, and Shirou fell back. The priest stepped forward, looming over him.

"You do not have that same resolve."

"To destroy the darkness, so the innocent may live," Sierra said in so lyrical a manner as to be really singing. "To defeat all evils of the world to save the world. You want to save everyone; but some of those who you want to save are the very evils which mean others need saving. If you really want to save the world, you have to be ready to kill those who oppress it."

As the girl's words fell on his ears and the priest's shadow moved to pierce his heart, Shirou thought back to Kiritsugu. To the ideal he wanted.

Everyone should be saved. That was the beautiful ideal whose beauty pierced his heart and set it aflame. A love for everyone. A longing for the happiness of everyone.

But he thought also of Archer: his future self, jaded by his own ideal, which he never achieved. No matter how much blood he shed.

He closed his eyes, and made a choice.

—if he died now, he would have gained nothing over Archer's state.

No one would be saved.

So even if it meant some lives couldn't be saved—even if it meant he risked a future where he became Archer—he had to steel his heart to do what must be done.

Those who oppose human happiness should be forced to stop.

That, at least, was something he could agree with, in absence of a better answer. Such was the way he had already been acting in the Holy Grail War; but he did not wish to take any life.

Yet if Archer is any indication, such was not a future he could sustain.

Shirou opened his eyes and looked at the shadow Kirei.

I do like him, he realized, after a shocked moment. I hated him because I liked him. He was so much like me—a man living a fake heroic life, whether that of a fake hero or a fake priest, but with a broken reason. Without understanding the reason.

But he's threatening my life, and likely took the lives of others.

Therefore, there's only one answer left.

With a deep breath, Shirou drew all the energy he had left and forced himself off the ground, his hands converging on the forming image of a Noble Phantasm.

"I will kill you, Kotomine Kirei."

The priest's eyes seemed to light aflame, and a smile spread over his face.

"Finally."

And the true fight began.

It was as if a switch had been flicked; Shirou was no longer tired, not nearly as much. Power seemed to soak into his veins, slowly but steadily feeding his projections.

He felt alive. As he did when he fought with Rin's magic crest implanted on his arm when fighting Gilgamesh.

At the same time, the shadows stripped away from Kotomine, revealing his full, natural figure.

When Kirei leaped for him again, Shirou lifted a hand and closed his eyes, recalling the great impenetrable shield, and with a shout:

"Rho Aias!"

The shield unfurled in its full glory before him, blocking the strikes which had the priest's full strength behind them. In an instant after, the shield was down, and Shirou clove forward with strikes from Kanshou and Bakuya, the edges sharp and structure firm. Kirei's counter strikes failed to shatter, or even shake, the swords in their full glory.

The close combat battle rose to a hum, the constant thrash of swords against hands a symphony of violence; but this time, Shirou had the advantage. He landed a cut on Kirei's arm, who flinched back, a red hissing line burning in the now moonlit night.

When the priest leaped back, Shirou took the advantage: letting the married swords fade into motes of light, he projected Archer's bow and followed his future self's inclination.

"You're not getting away to hurt anyone else," he said, closing his eyes, imagining the Rainbow Sword Caladbolg, projecting a weapon of such power as to render mountains, but twisted into a second form: a deadly arrow.

And since the arrow would be destroyed, it was a Broken Phantasm: a weapon against which there is no defense.

With a boom and flash of light, he fired.

The moment seemed to slow in time: Kirei mid-air, the arrow pulsing with an otherworldly power, and the impact which sent a wave of force whipping through the treetops and washing over Shirou, nearly knocking him over.

The shot took what power he had left out of him. Barely keeping himself aright, his eyes swept the battlefield.

Kirei was gone; and for lack of a body, Shirou wondered whether he really was dead.

But, at any rate, Shirou had won.

He collapsed on the ground. He heard the light footfalls of Sierra approach him, before lifting him up with a breath and turning his face to meet her eyes and gentle smile.

"You did well," she said, her voice a whisper. "You won. And you saved me again." She blushed lightly. "But now we need to get back to a city. Don't worry; I heard some caravan nearby on the road. They'll help us, I'm sure. I can get us the rest of the way. Go to sleep, for now."

Shirou could only smile, before sleep took him over, a pleasant darkness to let him rest, the sight of Sierra helping him back to the road giving him a measure of peace.

But for a moment, it seemed like her eyes weren't amber, but red; and her hair not silver, but white.

#

A/N: I'm back. God willing, I'll write more often.

Here is a link to the 'ancient melody' I mentioned this story (on a music sharing site called instaudio; you can also just Google it and search for "Ancient Melody" on the instaudio home page search bar to find it if you prefer not to try the link):

instaud (insert dot here) io (insert / here) 2vjm

Enjoy it if you'd like.

Short note: apologies for likely excess focus on Shirou's ideals and the internal struggle. In a perfect world, I would have better pacing.

This is not a perfect world.

I thought this chapter was more than 4k words; I was mistaken. Most unfortunate. We will see if that can be improved next chapter.

Till next time.