(((CHAPTER 1)))

As if he were awakening from a long dream, he stirred to life, his eyes seeing but not understanding. He took one shaky breath, then several more, his eyes now blinking, framed in an uncomprehending expression. Like a person just revived from drowning, he sat up jerkily, his blood roaring in his ears, his muscles trembling.

"Aggghhh-!"

A scream tore from his mouth, rending the silence that surrounded him. He placed a hand on his head, to stabilize himself, his mind working nonstop to process the many strange stimuli that enveloped it. After a beat, his mind went straight to the self-recognition process.

"I... am..."

That's right. It was a mental exercise, for whenever he awoke, no matter where he was, or whatever condition he might be. His mind sifted through multitudinous streams of information, until he found the fact that was set there from the very beginning.

"I am... Emiya Shirou..."

The name spoken out loud was as a keening bell that rang through his entire body. Suddenly he was no longer the seizing, mindless entity that writhed like a newborn on the grass. He was Emiya Shirou, and by that name he remembered himself.

Emiya Shirou. Enumerate bases-mercenary, magus, comrade, captain, Projection, lover, philanderer, warrior, archer, pilot, killer, accursed-

Countless images, effigies of distant trials, pounded through his brain in lightning speed. He exhaled, and with it he willed his mind clear of all needless distractions. Raw instincts honed from countless battles kicked in, and he looked around himself with a keen, calculating eye. Green, green, grass, shrubs, bushes, trunks, trees: tentative conclusion-

"Forest," he muttered, answering his mind's question of "where". His gaze panned further to the front, and then he froze. His breath literally stopped for that moment of recognition, and he wondered why he'd missed seeing it.

Short, slender frame encased in thick, dress-like armor, gauntlets. Her hair, tied in those distinct tresses. The resemblance was very striking, and he would have cried out her name, the name he had sought to pursue, endlessly, for however long-

But in the next millisecond, his brain recovered enough to discover that while everything else about her physical form was similar, there was something distinctly different about this one from the person he had known.

One glaring difference was that her armor was a shining jet black, instead of the pristine silver he was used to. Even her blue garments were in the same ebony color, as if they had been dipped in thick, cloying ink. Further, great lines of violent red, like veins jutting out from beneath skin, snaked through much of her armor.

And then of course there was her face, looking like it had been drained entirely of color-her skin paler than snow, her hair bleached into a lifeless color. It had a false, wraith-like air to it, so very different from the stern, noble aura his old companion had worn about her.

Her expression was pinched and scowling even as her face turned to regard him. Vainly he sought a sign, any sign of the person he'd known on this one's face, but the stranger soundly frustrated him.

There was no hint at all that this was the Artoria he'd fought with, loved, and lost.

And yet still, as if his mouth had not yet accepted what his mind had, he spoke, addressing the stranger: "...Sa...Saber...?"

"I greet you, my new Master," said the stranger, with a slight tilting of her head. Her voice was low and cold, much like the Saber in his memories, when their compact had been in its infancy. "Servant Saber, at your service."

Shirou, despite knowing what his mind had already deduced, could still not help but rise, his arms outstretched, like a man seeking shelter; and stumble forward. "Saber? Saber..! Is it... is it really you?"

The woman did not blink, but neither did she seem pleased when he grasped her upper arms. She felt solid enough, and warm and soft besides; and not a phantasm conjured by an enemy magus, as a part of his mind had thought. "Indeed, I am a Servant of the Saber class, Master." With a deft motion, she slid from his grasp, taking several steps back. "And though it might be presumptuous of me, please do not take hold of me in such a way again."

"Saber," he repeated, like a fool. There was a slight crease of consternation upon her face.

"Do forgive my presumption again, Master, but are you sure nothing is wrong with your head?" she said coldly. "How many times must I acknowledge this fact for you?"

"But you're Saber aren't you? No, wait, what I meant was..." He turned to the side, sucked in a breath, then continued, "You are Artoria, aren't you?"

Something shifted in her expression. "...Yes. I suppose there is little need to deceive you still. I am the person you say I am. But do refer to me as Saber, Master-or do you want every Master around discovering our weaknesses?"

Shirou frowned. He had spoken the name with the same gentleness as of someone speaking fondly of an old lover. He had uttered it to this one, despite having seen that their physical similarities ended at a point, despite the initial demeanor showing him a starkly different person.

It was, of course, something to be expected. His heart had desired for a hint of the old Saber, the softened gaze, the warm smile-none of it showed on this stranger's face. He decided then and there: there were similarities in shape and size, but this was definitely not his Saber.

Having reached that conclusion, he straightened, his mind now returning to busily analyzing his current situation. He looked around, seeing nothing different from his previous assessment. They appeared to be in a forest clearing somewhere, though finding the exact location would be difficult. He knew of talented people who could pinpoint locations through analysis of the surrounding flora along with the weather-his expertise only lay with the arrangement of the stars above and finding his relative position, and it wasn't nighttime yet.

"Right..." he said, his breathing coming back to normal. "Right." As he was in no immediate danger, he looked down and saw that there was nothing else in this clearing other than him, the clothes on his back (civilian jeans and jacket), and the black-armored not-Saber. He felt a sense of loss-as far as he could recall his traveling bag had been like a child to him, and had been more of a pillow buddy than Rin had ever been.

He was thus left without much of the tools of his trade, like his trusty peacemaker, his emergency knives, and the small cybernetic tool wired to his ears that had acted as an electronic communications hub. He felt quite naked without these tools, but at least he still had his body. Thus, he next flexed his fingers, testing the magecraft he had specifically honed for his work.

"Trace, on."

The black Saber watched with detached interest as his favorite blade appeared in a haze of blue and white, gripped firmly in his hand like it had never left. He hefted the katana, testing its edge-for now it appeared that magecraft was still possible, so at least he wasn't completely crippled yet. And so...

He gasped, as something caught his eye. The hand holding his newly Projected blade had bright-red markings on its back, symbols that he had not thought would ever appear on his skin again. He banished his blade, and examined the markings.

"That is the proof that you are a Master," Saber explained.

"I know," he murmured, touching the tattoo gingerly. Whoever had seen fit to bring him here had also given him a Command Spell of all things, though to his eyes he wasn't sure how much of it there was. The design was markedly different from the one he'd had on the Holy Grail War, but the overall feel and appearance was unmistakably and hauntingly familiar, and quite menacing. Suddenly, old feelings of tension and dread arose, compounded by the altered appearance of his old friend.

So. He compiled all that he had experienced in his brain, and he restated it again, for clarity. It was a mind-technique drilled into him by Rin from the very start, a lesson he had yet to grasp fully.

Unknown location. No tools. Command spell: unknown quantity, purpose. His eyes narrowed, and appraised the Servant who'd called herself his. He didn't know much about the mechanics of the whole thing, but he was pretty sure summoning a Servant outside the Grail War was an exorbitant and impractical process. And he was completely sure that it hadn't been him who'd done it, for he was less than a third-rate magus.

Though he couldn't be sure... what had he been doing just before he'd- regained consciousness? Alarmingly, he had no memory whatsoever of the past twenty-four hours, no, make that a full week. The last thing he recalled was some task he had to do, some vague mission with details he could not recall. Neither could he determine when and where he'd been before he'd been dragged here.

The lack of memory was alarming, but at least it gave him something to work towards solving. For now, he could not afford to woolgather; he turned back towards Saber and firmly asked, "Do you have any idea about what brought you here? Who summoned you? Did I summon you?"

"I came in response to you, and only you, Master," the altered Saber said. The words would have definitely made him blush-had it come from his lover.

"Just now?" he pressed. "I don't recall drawing a circle to summon you."

She shrugged. "I do not care much for the details; that is your work, magus. The fact remains that I was summoned, and that you are the Master." Then she frowned. "Though apparently you seem to hold doubts..."

"No no, no doubts," he said hastily, averting his eyes from the Servant's steely gaze. No need to antagonize a Servant, particularly if it was acting like this. He could not hope to defeat a Servant, no matter how more skilled he was than the average person. And he was sure to be unable to defeat this Servant, if she held but an ounce of the strength of the one he'd loved.

"Trace, on," he mumbled, testing to see if he was stuck in some simulacra. He cast his gaze on the grass, and found nothing faked about them. So too did he find the trees genuine, as were the little rocks and boulders scattered all over. By all regards, it was a perfectly normal forest clearing, with nothing special or even artificial about it. If this were a simulacrum, then he'd need to go forward and do something else to test it.

He went back to regard his so-called Servant. She exerted an enormous pressure, even to Shirou, who'd been generally used to magus, who under the right circumstances would unleash some sort of destructive chicanery hitherto unheard of at the wave of a hand. The only difference here was that a Servant had vastly more potential to cause havoc.

"Is there something you find disagreeable, Master?" the Servant asked.

Deciding to take on the role, even if he was reluctant to be drawn in to this kind of mess yet again, Shirou shifted to his customary combat mindset. "I'll be frank, Saber. I am totally unsure about our current situation, and I don't like lacking any sort of information or resources to illuminate us. Therefore, we should move on, without delay, to investigate. I hope you understand." There, that wasn't too commanding, but neither was it "soft", as Rin or Illya would have derided.

Saber nodded. "I agree. Lead the way, then, Master. I shall support you from the side, and I shall protect you from any danger."

I shall protect you, as is my vow, a phantom voice said in his head. Shirou smiled crookedly. Then he stepped over towards the edge of the clearing. He sensed Saber follow. He Projected a small nail, and dropped it near a certain tree-if there was something labyrinthine about this place then a marker would suffice to keep him guided. The nail, built from his circuits, would sustain itself for a while, and would be illuminated to his senses even through thick overgrowth.

The sky was cloudy, with small patches of blue peeking through the gaps. There was no hint of a coming rain, which would have become a problem for him. He took a breath, and again marveled at the sweet, almost fresh scent of air-quite unlike the places he was used to. A world untouched by blood and steel-now that was remarkable.

They came upon a pathway through the forest, which Shirou guessed to have actually been made by humans, which hopefully meant there was a settlement close. Deciding to at least be prudent, he had Saber dematerialize into spirit form and hover near the edge, giving the appearance of him walking alone on the road. He didn't want to mention to the black Saber that this was also to not unnerve any human who might happen to see her.

They had not traveled much farther, and Shirou had yet to break a sweat, when he heard voices from one part of the path. Human voices. He dropped prone instantly, and crept his way towards the source, while sharpening his senses to make out the indistinct words. He was tempted to reinforce his senses, but refrained, knowing from bitter experience how a magus could pick apart even the weakest effort to reinforce.

He slowly made his way through the underbrush, careful to keep another eye on Saber, whose invisible form had followed along. She was just as alert as him, and this gave him a dash of confidence to move even closer.

Now that the voices were getting more and more distinct, Shirou couldn't help but cock his head. Was it just his imagination, or did the voices actually sound very much familiar? He carefully pushed through the last bit of undergrowth to take a peek, and then his eyes couldn't help but bug out from surprise.

"You are sure the signal came from here?" said the person a few feet in front of him, in a voice that sounded very much like an old friend's: Rin Tohsaka. She crouched, her back to him, near a fallen tree trunk. She wore clothes of crimson and black, which was very familiar of course; and then there was her wavy black hair, tied into the hairstyle she'd used in high school. The last bit of the puzzle would be her face, but he couldn't see it yet.

"Please be sure to check your calibrations," the unknown, possibly-Rin continued. "You cannot expect me to walk through this part of the labyrinth and search every nook and cranny!" By the tone of her voice (and the fact that no one else was here) she was probably talking through some sort of communicator, most likely a phone. "Hello? Hello! Damn!"

The figure rose, and turned around, and Shirou's breath hitched up. The beautiful face that greeted him was almost certainly the one belonging to his treasured friend and mentor. Clear blue eyes, oval-shaped face, and the pout that he could always count to appear whenever he teased her just right. And then of course there was her twin-tailled hairstyle, which he'd noted before, and which he was surprised to see her wearing now, when she'd been accustomed to a different style as far as he recalled.

Such was his surprise that he quite forgot himself, standing up from the bushes and exclaiming, only realizing too late that it was perhaps a most stupid thing to do. His split-second recrimination was proven right when a tall figure materialized at Rin's side, wearing a familiar red coat that dominated its body.

He locked eyes with Rin, and was confused to see there was no sort of recognition in her gaze, like she were looking at a complete stranger. He couldn't dwell on that thought, however, as a lot of things began happening a mere microsecond after the figure appeared.

In sequence events progressed, too fast for Shirou to comprehend, almost blur-like to his eyes, like so:

While his eyes had fixated on Rin, the red-coated figure had dashed forward, its arms crossed in front of it. It didn't need to be said that it was charging straight for him.

Then Shirou moved, backward, though his body was unable to process the speed with which the figure had moved, too fast for his normal senses to process, entirely too fast for any sort of reinforcement to make any difference. The figure would reach him in less than a second, and then...

But appearing in a flash of black and crimson, Saber then materialized at his side. His wide eyes had yet to comprehend her sudden appearance, nor less the black blade she wielded in her hand, when she stepped forward and swung it, intercepting the charging figure with a strong, downward slash.

There came the sound of a blade shredding through meat. The figure made a pained grunt, and thus time resumed its normal motions for Shirou.

"Wha-" he began, watching blankly as the red-coated figure stumbled backward, its expression unable to be seen behind its black mask, a great bloody gash neatly draped over the front of its body like a decorative sash. He then realized that the figure wielded two curved blades, black-and-white, the images of which immediately superimposed itself on his eyelids; and he cried, as if he'd looked directly at the sun, information downloading into his brain even without his say-so.

As he struggled, he heard Rin cry, "Archer!", a cry of distress that jerked him free from the paralyzing funk, just in time to notice Saber's implacable charge forward. With the opposition dismantled, the way was clear, and Saber had cleared her own path to the next target. Her blade was raised, a black-edged thing wreathed in smoke, and Shirou knew where it would cut next. Saber stepped around the fallen enemy and charged with implacable purpose, even as Shirou nearly fell over in his haste, his arm held out as if he could physically grab Saber by her clothes.

"Saber, stop!" he yelled, his voice thundering furiously in his ears. In that instant, Saber halted, to his relief.

"...Master."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Good. "Oh good..." he gasped, unable to believe his Servant had just attempted to kill someone who looked like his friend. His gaze went towards the Rin look-alike, who looked from him to Saber with wide eyes, then to the fallen figure, whose form was suffused with light. A moment later, the figure's form flashed, and it disappeared, as if it had never been.

"Th-th-Archer..." Rin breathed.

"Master, do you wish to parlay with Rin beforehand?" said Saber, who, though looking at him still had her blade poised to decapitate Rin.

"N-I mean, yes, yes of course, Saber!" Shirou exclaimed. "And also... yes, stand down, stand down. There's no need for that."

Saber scowled. Shirou well understood the skepticism, having faced his fair share of enemies, but of course he could not just have any other person just killed like that. The other one who disappeared was an unfortunate, horrifying happenstance, and one which he would have to make up to this person, if she were amenable.

"My apologies, Rin," Shirou said, approaching Rin and bowing. Rin stared at him, and he could see that she didn't recognize him at all. "I fear we have started on the wrong-"

"Haah!"

This time he could see the attack coming, and he leaned backward as the couple of magical bullets whizzed by him. The stench of burnt ozone stung in his nose.

"You wretch!" Saber cried.

"Saber, stop!" Shirou said, running quickly to interpose himself between Rin and her.

"Master, the magus clearly attacked you."

"Yes, I know-" He sensed Rin muttering something under her breath, which was usually a bad sign. It was a wind-up to some big magecraft, and Shirou couldn't have that; not if Saber was determined to lop off her head. "Trace, on," he said desperately, forming a thick set of chains. In the next moment, he'd flung it at Rin, who squawked as the chains moved as if possessed, binding her throat and body within a second.

The magical object was a replica of an artifact he'd glimpsed in a long-forgotten tomb, a Mystic Code of significant utility. His replica moved of its own volition, and could be directed to do anything the owner needed. For now, it silenced Rin, as the chains wrapped over her mouth. Of course, now it looked like he'd captured the woman, and was ready to do whatever he wanted with her.

Yet Saber still looked dissatisfied despite Rin being restrained, looking at the prisoner like a pig about to be slaughtered; even as the Rin lookalike glared daggers at him, clearly promising overwhelming retribution for whatever he was planning to do to her.

Shirou couldn't help but sigh, and felt very, very tired. A disapproving Servant on the left, and a presumed enemy Rin lookalike on his right; neither of which were very happy with him. Though he'd tried, he was sure he hadn't made a good first impression, in this strange new world. And judging by his luck, he could expect more of the inexplicable to come.

Shurpuff says: Slowly starving to death, and yet I find time to make this.

Hello, to old readers. Sorry for being out of touch for a long time, I've gone through a lot of crises, and I'm still not out of it. It is not a lie to say if I don't publish again, that will have been the last you hear of me. I'm seriously contemplating one of those crowdfunding things like P-eon, just to help, but I don't know how popular that'll be.

To new readers: Enjoy!