DISCLAIMER: I own nothing from Type Moon and ATLUS's Persona franchise.

He disliked bullies.

The kind of people who preyed on the weak of will and heart in order to satiate the insecurities that lay beneath their thick skins—he didn't really care if they preyed on him, sooner or later they got tired of him, anyway. But the thing was, it was a different experience altogether when he witnessed it happening to another who didn't have it in them to fend off for themselves.

Moreso than his dislike, he hated those who would strike women.

Of course, it wasn't to say that those of the opposite gender were, as stereotypically depicted, frail and defenseless. No, he had a much higher opinion of the female type. However, to debase one's self into striking down a woman who would stand firm for what she believed in and protected with all her strength made his blood boil, and such an act that was lacking the physical and was compensated with venomous words spoken with no hint of respect at all would probably have him resort to a little more… strong-armed method of retaliation.

It was because of these two abhorrences that he found himself sickened to the pit of his stomach with the existence of Shinji Matou.

The boy was his classmate, and he was quite familiar already with the loudmouthed and arrogant teenager. And just as with so many of this typical kind who were filled with more hot air than the Solar System's sun, he completely ignored their presence and decided that it would do no good to interact with them. Then again, he ignored mostly everyone, but he exerted an extra effort in indifference when it came to people like the pompous Matou. Plus, the fangirls were irritants as well, so that was extra motivation on his part.

However, the month-long time he had ignored the boy and whatever further days would be spent in doing the same thing had all been shot to hell the day he spotted Shinji stomping and verbally abusing a female student behind the campus.

He wasn't so usually reckless or violent. He had patience in spades, and even moreso of tolerance and restraint. It wasn't really him to act out like some hero straight out of a comic book. However, hearing the poor girl crying out and profusely apologizing for something she may or may not have done (it was Shinji, so he would rather assume the latter) made him see red. It reminded him so much of her—and so much of the time they had been together. Spotting a rock the size of his fist, he picked it up without further preamble and pulled his arm back.

Their lesson on Physics earlier that day tackled the relationship between force, mass, and acceleration. It was a thing of beauty, what Newton described in his Principia's Second Law—though an object's mass may be small, a greater acceleration caused a directly proportional increase in the force, thus resulting to a net force greater all in all. This was one of the principles that acted behind bullets and all sorts of projectiles.

Now, with a rock of quite the adequate size in hand, it was only a matter of how strong he should throw it in order to achieve an acceptable speed and force that it would teach Shinji Matou a lesson he won't soon forget. Of course, that meant that he should learn not to pass on bullying over to the next generation of Matous.

For a moment, his eyes burned azure, and in his mind was the clear picture of a man who had been quite the sharpshooter in a time of strife many were so acquainted with. After all, this man would have both the accuracy, cunning, strength and luck needed to have put down Goliath and give him his mythical claim-to-fame. Eyeing his target, he made sure that he wouldn't miss; his arm arced forward, and the stone flew the distance between him and Shinji.

A second later, Shinji's crotch was promptly reacquainted with Newton's Law of Acceleration, along with the necessary message to be sent over the next ten Matou generations concerning abuse over others.

He made his way over to the scene, pausing to shoot a dirty look towards the groaning boy's way. He then approached the girl cowering over to the side, whose teary eyes looked over his way as he neared. Without warning, he pulled her hand and quickly guided her away from the scene. The bruises the girl had definitely needed treating, and so did her bleeding lip and nose.

And there was nowhere better than his least favorite place in school. He's always had a love-hate relationships with infirmaries, after all.

"Yuuki, you son of a bitch!"

He sighed. This was not how he wanted his morning to start. Perhaps the boy was actually immune to any and all kinds of advances that would wish him to think twice about how he treats other people. That kind of problem was something he had no desire to cure, when the subject was actually beyond redemption already.

Wow, was it really like him to be so cynical about humanity? Then again, his benevolence for the race likes to take a backseat when it came to people like the abusive teen rapidly approaching him.

Despite his blatant dislike for anything Shinji Matou represented, to the forefront of the encounter came his restraint and abject politeness (even for people who did not deserve his courtesy). It would not do, after all, to cause a scene with so many people pouring into the school. Then again, if the other boy definitely started something, he would make sure he'd be the one to end it.

The footsteps halted behind him, and he let out a breath before turning to face Shinji. His muscles tensed, no doubt preparing for any and all sorts of retaliation available in the boy's arsenal (which was just hot air), and the beginnings of [Null Strike] already working on the surface of his skin.

"Matou."

"All smug, are we now, you pathetic lowlife!? Think I didn't see you yesterday? Well guess what, pal! I'm about to make life living hell for you!"

If the lad thought he would be intimidated by such an overly cliched line pulled out of some nameless gangster's rectal hole, then Shinji would have to settle for bitter disappointment.

"And why would you be doing that, Shinji?"

Quite out of the left field came Shirou Emiya, the only name he seemed to be able to recall out of his many classmates. Perhaps it was because the impressionable young man was the only one who ever bothered trying to strike up a conversation with him, no matter how menial it was. Since the Fake Janitor was courteous enough, civil, and possessed a maturity that singled him out of the rest, he returned the gestures with sincerity and ample respect, and to that end Emiya had been also quite the comfortable company.

Especially during lunch time. The lad can definitely cook—it was reminiscent of the talents of a certain beanie-wearing upperclassman.

"Oh, Emiya! Cavalry came at the right time, I suppose. See here, this bastard thinks he could just go ahead and lob a rock at me! Now, help me relay the story to a teacher, and we'll see to getting this piece of trash getting his ass handed to him!"

Though he knew Emiya was friends (to an extent) with the prickly Matou, the way the redhead looked over to him with eyes filled with disbelief told of a wariness along that relationship. "Is this true, Yuuki-san? Did you injure Shinji on purpose yesterday?"

Matou had the gall to look all smug on him. "Yes, go ahead and tell us just how you attacked your betters, eh Yuuki?"

The bluenette pretended to look shocked. Just a wee bit. And drip a fine helping of sarcasm all over his words, too. "Oh, I'm sorry for stoning you. It just didn't seem right that you were beating up your little sister."

Students who were passing by and witnessing the situation were looking on pointedly, whispering among themselves as to the words he had said quite much louder as compared to the rest of his sentence. Well, the mischief alight behind his steely eyes clearly showed that he had one-upped the Matou on that one, and the dawning realization on the repercussions of that single phrase made Shinji pale.

"Sakura was…?! Is this true, Shinji?!"

Even the normally calm Emiya was bristled, and dark clouds that were his expression belied the storm swirling behind his eyes.

"H-He's obviously lying, you idiot! Of course he'd be making up some excuse to try and attack me like that!"

Ah. The cornered rat squirms to the last. Another blow would be needed, it seems. "Then you wouldn't mind if we go and visit her later, do you Emiya-san? If it helps, we can also talk to the teacher handling the infirmary—after all, she helped me fix up Sakura-san's wounds."

"I don't mind. Definitely, I'll accompany you later." Steel crept from behind Emiya's words, and the cold look he was giving Shinji did not, in any way, make the situation better for the Matou.

"… Don't think this is over, Yuuki! You little shit! You'll see, you'll see." Shinji had already retreated and briskly paced towards the school, all the more eager to put a distance between them. The venom behind his parting words assured vengeance, but the bluenette did not care—whatever petty way of getting back the Matou had, he had already seen other things that he was sure Shinji's revenge would not even pale in comparison with.

"To think that after all this time, Sakura really was… shit. I messed up bad." Hm? What was this? Emiya didn't seem the type to be so disturbed like this. Perhaps his relationship with the younger Matou held more substance to draw this kind of distress from him.

"Yuuki-san, thanks for seeing to Sakura."

It was quite perplexing, to say the least, that someone with no blood relationship to the girl would be the one to present such concern over her welfare. Then again, these kinds of familial situations did persist, even if all too uncommon in society. Well, whatever their relationship was, it spoke volumes of Emiya's character that he would value such a bond.

And he could respect that, in all honesty. After all, it was one of the things he'd sacrificed his life for—a virtue that he himself was all too familiar with.

As much as he told Emiya to stop thanking him for having done the right thing, he could not refuse so easily the phrase "treat you to lunch" when it came out of the boy's mouth. Normally, he was averse to the notion of being repaid for having been the samaritan, but it would be a cold day in Hell for him to refuse the homemade meal made by a fine young man of his age with talents in the kitchen no less.

The short visit to Sakura after classes would not be such a trifling matter, too.

The idea of Shirou Emiya as oblivious to women was something he found quite amusing.

The way the soft-spoken girl seemed to want to melt just from eye-contact alone; her cheeks alit with a touch of pink; her eyes dancing with mirth and wonder—it was all body language with women, as they were the more subtle of the sexes when it came to affection, after all.

He didn't fancy himself to be an expert when it came to understanding people—women, especially!—but there were just things that he knew. As humiliating as it was on his part, it had taken him a fair bit of time to realize that he had become the object of affection for four of his female teammates (Aigis definitely counted as one). But then again, he should have expected it. Igor himself had drilled into his head that though Social Links gave him strength, it would be quite unwise for him to treat the feelings that followed as some byproduct of the process. In fact, the attendant made it clear to him that socializing was the process, and that the Links were the byproducts instead.

Luckily enough, he was able to live through quite a difficult time.

Now, here was a boy completely unaware of romantic cues and telltale signs. Perhaps it was inexperience, perhaps he just ignored it, perhaps it wasn't just meant to be—whatever the reason was, clearly Emiya was not the kind of guy to read between the lines or over-assume the aspects of his relationship with another.

If not for the fact that he sort of considered Emiya as a friend (in a weird way), he would have already poked fun at the situation and try to embarrass the two of them. Yet it was ultimately something about the Matou girl that told him not to do—there was something holding her back from completely reaching out to Emiya, something that she was desperate to hide deep underneath the shadows of her heart.

Much as he wanted to help her, he decided that he would not—sometimes, the only people capable of unraveling one's darkness would be his or her own self. Clearly, this was Sakura's battle. And the best he could do was cheer her on.

Well, he could do a bit of this and a little of that. Parasites were such nasty things, especially if left to fester on their own without intervention. Why, he remembered getting sick once from a particularly nasty hookworm, and he would not wish for it to happen to anyone else.

And by anyone else, it excluded Shinji Matou.

Because it seemed like he was impeding in quite a tender moment between the smitten Sakura and a particularly dense block of uranium, he decided to leave them to their devices quietly. But once he was out of the infirmary, an aura of hostility blasted its way throughout the hall and rolled over him in waves—the malice continued to intensify, and a noticeable (albeit as bothersome as a mosquito bite) drain in his magical reserves became apparent.

His immediate response was to call forth a war god to mind, and soon enough his body began restoring what was sucked out. [Victory Cry] was useful like that, he supposed. The drain was no problem at all, however the issue lay within the fact that there were hundreds of normal humans within the school premises.

This would not do at all.

If he had stayed in the hall a little longer, he would have spotted a certain twin-tailed idol approaching the infirmary with clear hostility behind a mask of indifference.

"Oh? You? Hahahaha! I didn't expect you to be here, but man, isn't this some great opportunity!"

He was a little disappointed that Shinji was all he found in what he tracked as the focal point of this entire affair. However, the ominous, tattered book in the Matou's hand captured his attention the moment he noticed it.

Spite marred his features. The lad was sure that the Matou elder sibling had found the situation as something to exploit to exact a form of vengeance for his interference in what was supposed to be "family business."

"Rider! Come on out; I've got a live one for you! Take your time and make sure it's every bit as painful as you can possibly dish out."

"… As you wish, Master."

Like she was some magician's trick, the lithe frame of a buxom woman appeared out of thin air to impale the lad with what seemed like nails held by links of steel. There was a snake-like quality to the way her limbs coiled to strike, and even the speed at which they moved bore inclinations to it.

To her surprise, however, she was the one who felt pain burn through her right shoulder when the nails hit their mark. The blind-folded woman jumped back, pausing to touch the fresh flow of crimson now dripping down her own shoulder.

[Repel Pierce] never disappoints.

"What the hell are you doing Rider?! Get going and make him beg for mercy!"

This time, before the woman could move, the blue-haired lad was already upon her—halberd in hand, literally manifested from out of nowhere. As she moved to parry and dodge each blow to the best of her ability, the speeds at which he struck resembled clearly a master of his craft.

At that moment, Makoto Yuuki sat back from the depths of his soul.

At that moment, the war god Chi-You rampaged with the force of thousands of men thrust upon the desolate landscape of war.

Furniture was demolished. Walls were scarred and torn apart. The floor was littered with debris and cracks. With surgical precision, the halberd struck and struck—every stroke was one with intention to maim, to destroy, to kill. Clear surprise was what the blind-folded women sported about her mien, and her baffled state could only generate a single thought: just who was it that they had made the mistake of crossing?

He wasn't keen on the idea of fighting a woman—but it was a different thing altogether when the woman in question had the ability to possibly maim, disembowel, and kill him. In no particular order.

As the nails sailed through the air to impale him once more, he met them head on and swatted the nuisances out of the air. His eyes—steel orbs that ignored the existence of the powerful being within that room—kept within sight the flustered idiot that commanded the bewitching femme fatale. Shinji was in the process of hastily removing his presence from the classroom, with no intentions of being held in the crossfire between two supernatural beings. Before he could drag the lad back in, however, the woman had blocked his line of sight and bought the time needed for the boy to escape.

"As despicable as he is, I cannot allow you to harm my Master."

There was something in her tone that confessed how much she wanted to maim Shinji, but to be able to hold back like so spoke of reasons that stopped her from doing so.

And without shame, he threw the question. Subtlety just wasn't quite him, even if he could pull it off, too.

"Of course I am bound to him. He is my Master, and I, Rider, am his Servant."

Without preamble, she blitzed him once more, her movements quicker than before and more aggressive. Perhaps it was because her… Master (?) was no longer in the room that she could focus more on offense and less on defense—clearly, this meant that her performance from earlier truly was not her full strength, and whatever happened from here on out had to be assessed with utmost scrutiny and caution.

Her quick movements offered him no quarters, and slowly he was being backed literally into a corner of the room. As much as Chi You's passive gave him immunity from the woman's weapon, it did not mean that he felt nothing from such blows. It was a testament to her strength that each time the nails hit home, he felt his muscles strain and his bones creak. Whatever existence this Servant was, it was clearly no joke—it was most likely on the level, maybe higher even, of the stronger Shadows from Tartarus.

Perhaps even an actual Persona itself.

He took advantage of the chains moving across his line of sight and skewered the gaps with his weapon. He tangled the length of on the shaft of the halberd, and gathered what titanic Strength the war god had as he jumped out the window and pulled; the woman was dragged along for the ride, where they ended up in the back area of the school.

The classroom offered him no combative advantages with the Persona of his choosing. It was small, and had significantly little room to swing his halberd freely and with ease—something was always bound to get in the way of his weapon, even if it was just a chair, and it would reduce his momentum and his movement's precision. In battle, such a thing was costly.

There was also the woman's weapon. As long as he was in a confined space, she had the capacity to control whatever large area was left to her devices with the deft manner she made the nails snake through the air.

Even if a more open space increased the woman's advantage with both the larger area and the coverage from the trees, it didn't mean that he was crippled in the choice of the battlefield. No—just as she had a better place to fight, so too did he.

And just before he landed on his feet, the halberd vanished along with Chi You's presence, replaced by the courageous and battle-hardy Hound of Ulster. In his hand appeared the pristine spear that had fought battles of epic proportions and left a mark in history as one of the more remarkable weapons of an Age mortals now come to know as but myth and fantasy.

Gae Bolg.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, the excitement of battle filling him as Cu Chulainn surfaced from within his psyche. The whistling tendrils of the elemental [Garu] wrapped around the spear, indicative of the roaring tempests it could unleash in its wake.

Although Ireland's Child of Light was no god of the likes of Chi You and a slew of many more, heroes of old were no slouches when it came to battle. However, the choice of Persona in this case had to consider the battlefield of his choosing. In a scape such as Homurahara Academy, it was more prudent to make use of a Persona who didn't turn battlefields into smoldering ruins when their full powers were unleashed—and a war god definitely was capable of such a feat.

"… Oh? Something about you has changed."

Rider's voice echoed all over from the grove of trees, her tone with a slight lilt of curiosity to it. No, perhaps curiosity wasn't the right word for it—wariness, perhaps? Outright caution? Whatever it was, he knew that she would take no chances when an unknown opponent has changed methods of combat.

At the peak of the boiling energy that bubbled within his body, he rushed forward, spear set to dig right into his target. While the nuisance of Gae Bolg's power lay with the twisting of causality so that it may strike true the heart, the boy was not aiming for his enemy's vitals. He had in sight her limbs; while possibly more dangerous to leave alive, prudence required that he satisfy his curiosity on the arrangement between whatever this woman was and Shinji Matou.

His ears picked up the clinking of chains in the air, and he knew that once he got into her range, she was looking to enclose him into some form of death zone. Of course, he'd already accounted for the possibility, and Cu Chulainn was experienced enough to drive his physical body into realms of inhumane reflexes to land first blood in this exchange.

"Wait, Yuuki-san!"

Emiya's voice registered too late with his hearing, and everything else was drowned out by the sickening squelch that followed, and the spray of crimson that flew in the air.

Hey there.

This account is not mine originally, and was created by a dear friend who's passed away last year. In order to keep alive his memory, and the push he gave my ass to start writing, I'll be churning out works here. It might feel wrong for some of you, but please do bear with me-this is the most I feel like I can do to at least honor his memory.

The Fate franchise is by no means a walk in the park to explore in terms of lore-heavy ones, but I do hope that by challenging myself here through character exploration and experimenting on combat, it'll pave the way for me to get more of the ideas I have been working on with Gabriel/Colorful Crime when he was still around.

I'll see you guys around.