Dear Mother in Heaven,

Everything is going as planned.

Feedback has been received on my ability to characterize, thus increasing my confidence ever so slightly for later events.
Groundwork has also been laid, albeit in an unusual way, but more importantly…
The readers have been lulled into a false sense of having to wait yet another indeterminable amount of time for the next TRUE update.

Some have felt disappointment at its finest, and have been brought low—doubtless they will be checking back any time soon.
This will weed out the enthusiasts.
Others are simply confused.
…So it is now that I shall strike; swift and like a bolt from the blue, while they look the other way.
A wanderer whose metaphorical quill cannot commit to any one place for too long, jumping around from scene to scene, from idea to idea, from option to option, from genre to genre, from story to story, from truth to lies, from lies to truth.

But Mother…there is something I did not account for:

The actual number of readers themselves.

To entertain less than a hundred is within my grasp—however, the graphs tell of a wholly different story that the "official" numbers do not.
500 the first day, 640 the second.
Something is wrong, Mother.
There are too many of them.
There are too many who have high hopes.
Even so…I cannot let this sway me; I will proceed as planned.
This will be but the first of such disappointments.
The numbers will thin.

When the time comes, they will learn that not everything I say is concrete truth.

Their loyalty will be tested.
Their resolve, challenged.
Then we shall see exactly how much faith they are willing to place in this story.

…But you know, don't you, Mother?

That the setup/exposition is always a total pain in the ass and ACT II is where it's at.
With the end of the next chapter, this horrid ACT I will finally draw to a close.
And then…the show can finally begin.

Yours Truly,
Quill

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Fate/Zero or Puella Magi Madoka Magica, which belong to TYPE-MOON and SHAFT, respectively.

Author's Note: Here you go. Chapter 2…at last.

Don't get your hopes up—personally, I think it's rather anticlimactic after all the trouble I had to go through to finally get this out. :/

Then again, I've read it like, hundreds of times already so I've gotten used to it. Maybe you shouldn't take my word for it, after all. At least I expanded upon the Gilgamesh scene in the Throne of Heroes—this one is much better than in the original draft. :D And the airplane conversation has been revised significantly while also introducing Homura's amusement at being called a 'Heroic Spirit' that wasn't included before. Prior to freaking out over other people freaking out at my choice for Homura's class, that airplane conversation was supposed to be the exposition part where I sort of explain things. :/

…But I freaked out.

So now…it's serving another purpose. Everything has always had a purpose, no matter what you may be thinking otherwise. EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING…Well, mostly everything. 85% of things so far, if I had to put an estimate to it. :B Then again, you can't trust my statistics unless I provide my p-value and significance level, eh?

Ha-ha. Math nerd joke.

(EDIT 11-26-2013: YES, I AM AWARE THAT MY AUTHOR'S NOTES ARE PARTICULARLY LONG IN THIS CHAPTER. REST ASSURED, THE PROBLEM WILL BE REMEDIED IN CHAPTER 3, SO STOP MENTIONING IT. I HAVE EDITED OUT THE PORTIONS IN HERE WITH THE LEAST RELEVANCE, BUT IT IS STILL LENGTHY. ALSO, THIS IS IN CAPS FOR THOSE WHO LIKE TO SKIM THROUGH THESE SORT OF THINGS.

And the reason why I'm making such a fuss over the numbers is because I personally do not believe that this story has reached the point where it deserves those numbers. Not yet. )

Come to think of it…I think Homura and Kiritsugu would actually clash with each other despite their similar skill sets. (Which would potentially nullify all of these father/daughter, mentor/student, badasses-in-arms headcanons…) If/When he finds out about the repetitions, I feel as if the confrontation would go somewhat like this:

HEY, LOOK! A SCENARIO!

"…Akemi Homura."

"Emiya Kiritsugu."

The Magus Killer shifted his Thompson Contender as slightly as he dared, wholly aware of the Desert Eagle's barrel pressed hard against his Adam's apple. It was a miracle he was still able to speak as clearly as he could with the gun so close to him. His Servant glared at him, displeasure evident in her violet eyes at the forced SHAFT head-tilt, with the Contender up against her own neck.

He had a firm grip on her arm, fully aware of her Time Stop's weakness, but if it came to a firefight now…he would definitely be the one lying dead on the floor. Rider could only be killed if her Soul Gem was destroyed; a sound defense mechanism…yet one he somehow forgot in his anger after witnessing the dream cycles. Kiritsugu cursed himself now for forgetting that valuable piece of information—he was aiming at the wrong spot. Even if he managed to shift his gun that far, a bullet would tear through his throat by then…and her Soul Gem would alert her to the use of magic in the air, which would leave Time Alter out of the question if used instead.

That is so not fair, Kiritsugu couldn't help but think to himself despite the situation at hand.

"You doomedcountless worlds, all for the sake of one middle school girl."

The Desert Eagle jammed deeper into his neck, yet his cold, disdainful gaze did not waver in spite of the pain.

"The scales are…tipped the wrong way…in the worst way…possible," he continued, his voice strained. "You would sacrifice a thousand…BILLIONS, even…to save one!"

"And you would sacrifice one to save a thousand, even if it is your own wife," Rider hissed back, violet eyes glinting dangerously with the intense fire that had kept her fighting against Walpurgis Night for a thousand years. "If Madoka was that one, my choice would be clear."

Like a flame…'Homura' is definitely an apt name, he admitted begrudgingly, feeling the anger rising again at her affirmation of such a ridiculous path.

"You are no hero."

"I never said I was. And I never thought of myself as one, either."

The Servant's finger twitched against the trigger, and he could almost imagine his death playing out in her mind. Damn her Independent Action…!

"However…Madoka turned into a Goddess in the end, thanks to my repetitions. Without Her, young girls like your daughter would suffer a fate far worse than death," Rider said calmly, though her eyes betrayed her desire to kill him. "From what Irisviel has told me of her, she would be an appealing candidate for Kyubey."

Kiritsugu's eyes widened. "You…You can't mean…! That Illya would—!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's contracted already. It must get awfully lonesome in that castle…and she certainly loves her parents, doesn't she? What she wouldn't give for the opportunity to help them finish their work quickly and return for her…"

END SCENARIO

...Huh. That was supposed to end at "I never said I was. And I never thought of myself as one, either", but, uh…I guess I got carried away. xD And here I was trying to shorten my A/N compared to last time…I guess that's not happening. This one's at 6 compared to the previous 3.

You'll have to bear with me.

Anyway, that Intermission was supposed to be written as an April Fool's joke MONTHS ago, thereby no longer serving its original purpose, but having been too lengthy to just sit on my laptop gathering dust. :/ It's my fault I pushed it off to the side for too long—accidentally increasing anxiety for the next chapter—but by the time I posted it, Chapter 2: Connect was a third of the way done. Now you'll get what you've actually been waiting for.

…And then I created Down to Zero We Go, so I probably could have posted there instead…but I think I'll just keep it here for you to look over later. Just dismiss the other world lines after my second Author's Note and you should be good.

Assuming you're still around for it.

But something to get out of the way first…as one reviewer has mentioned, it would be nice to see a serious story with this crossover. I'll be honest now, too—I would very much like to write it that way. Unfortunately, given my absolutely horrible attempts to understand the Fate/ wikia and the intricate workings of the Nasuverse beyond Fate/Zero (the only one I've seen), as well as witnessing the vicious way Fate/ fans have attacked those not as well-versed/not as quick to catch on as they are…this idea, this fanfic, had to become crack for the sake of protecting my self-esteem.

It's a safety net for me, essentially. If something would not work in canon, I could just play it off by calling it crack. AU could probably work, as well. It's as simple as that; just a shield to hide behind. A wholly selfish reason.

However, if you guys—like this reviewer—would ALSO like to see a serious story for The Bullets of My Gun, the crackish elements that must remain will be Homura's aria for her Unlimited Firearms NP (the whole thing that started this fic), references to Kyouko's shenanigans in her journey to gain entry to the Throne (with Sayaka cleaning up after her), and above all, staying true to A.M.'s true, crackish reason for stealing Homura away.

Basically, what I already have planned out, but now without the pressure of adding in something crazy/WTF-inducing all the time, which will be a huge relief. Because what I've learned from all those omakes is that writing long-term crack would be a lot harder, and with my writing style, it's only a matter of time before I go back to writing seriously. However, I've grown fond of those crack moments I envisioned in my head, so they will probably be available at Down to Zero We Go.

Waver and Saber's time in England was not going to be mentioned in the original draft—save for references to the Prime Minister and the Queen—and that will still hold true now. If you would like to know, it will definitely be silly and will be in Down to Zero We Go, as opposed to my original intention for it to be its own separate fic. Going back and revising their scene in Chapter 1: Point Zero is too troublesome as well in the main fic, so that revision is also going to be found there, hopefully soon if I can get off my lazy ass and type shit already.

Shit.

Hey, look. I typed 'shit'.

The fake next episode previews will also still remain, as there's no way in hell I can give a preview if I haven't even gotten to writing the next chapter yet.

So…continue as is? Or make it a bit more serious? There's not much difference, actually. It just still won't be as good as you think it'll be if I make it 'serious', which is why I'm honestly surprised that there are that many people keeping an eyes out for this—85 Favourites and 126 Follows to date, with over 400 views within the hour of posting it, only to jump to 640 the next day. Those numbers seriously SHOULD NOT be at, or approaching, triple digits. All joking aside, your expectations are far, far, far too high for this fic, and if you would like to save yourself from future disappointment…turn back now. Turn back now before you get too attached. Please read something else—there's plenty to choose from. The pressure is on for me to write something huge and great, and that is freaking me out because I can't.

I simply don't have enough experience. This is my third fanfic on this site, and aside from Birds of a Feather that I posted shortly before The Bullets of My Gun's Prologue way back when…my last upload was from 2008 (which I now keep despite its horridness to remind me of how utterly hopeless I was back then—now I'm a step above that).

So…just go read something else. Seriously. Unless you actually want to stick around for this train-wreck, then fine by me. Just know that I warned you.

Your responses will determine the nature of Chapter 3. And given how only a few people have given feedback to my idea, Homura's Time Stops will be a Personal Skill (so no complaining) and Wheel of Samsara/For You, a Thousand Years WILL be an NP at EX rank, capped at 24 hours with only one use. Sorry, PlatypusTheThird, but I feel that also making the Time Stops an NP would be giving her too many NPs already—I just realized that, after posing my questions…which kinda renders everything null and void.

(If it isn't obvious by now, my organizational skills are not the best and I'm a bit of a scatterbrain.)

Do remember that she has Wings of Fate/Fighting for You Wherever You Are and Unlimited Firearms/I Have Amassed Over a Thousand Firearms as NPs already. I think 3 would probably be an okay number—especially if the third is a one-time thing—but 4 would be too much. (Unless it's not…? Cu Chulainn's mentor over in Nerve Damage has like, 4 of them at A+ or EX rank. :/ ) Otherwise, that would've been a great idea you proposed.

I wonder what I would've called that Personal Skill you suggested…

…If it was a Noble Phantasm, I would have called it Master of Time/Living in the Space Between Moments, if you cared to know. The Personal Skill itself in this fic will be called Master of Time, because A Certain Different Series has already laid claim to "Time Lord".

Actually…you know what? Let's NOT label things in this fic. I'm just going to type how I've envisioned the story to go all along in my head, free of all these constraints associated with labeling things, and you can decide for yourself whether or not it's crack, serious, or some sort of flavor in between. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Hell, you can even call it "ASDFJKL;" or "what-the-hell-has-Quill-written-now?!" for all I care.

Although, honestly…I definitely think this will remain crack anyway. The purpose behind this story was for Homura to do an Unlimited Blade Works parody, using a modified aria—there is no way that can be done in a serious fic. So basically…forget what I was saying earlier. :| If you won't be happy with how things will turn out later (especially the next chapter), then you can just leave. Hell, you can even leave right now. I'm not forcing you to read anything—remember that when Chapter 3 comes around. If you're going to be disgruntled, write your own damn fanfic.

I'm just tired of angry PMs in my inbox.

I place myself in Your hands now, Madokami. If I shall succumb to the Flames cast by the Haters…then so be it. At least I can burn with no regrets regarding my writing.

…I just want ACT I to be over. ;_; I gotta get Caster's stuff out before The Rebellion Story comes out for us in December, so I can say "HA! CALLED IT!" if indeed the theory I just came up with my friend is true. Unfortunately, if we ARE right, we will be in utter despair because that is simply too cruel after all that she went through.

Also, please do not provide any spoilers for that should you decide to review. I have heard of things—things that I definitely agree will divide the wonderful PMMM fandom—but I will wait until I see the movie myself before judging. Even then, I have a feeling I'd have to re-watch it several times before things start to make sense, or before I'd be able to come into terms with what happens.

And on that note…Enjoy the anticlimactic second chapter.

The Bullets of My Gun
Chapter 2: Connect

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

To tomorrow, to a nostalgic yesterday…
A small promise bound by our fingers will be fulfilled.

…At the end of Time.

Gilgamesh casually strolled down the Throne of Heroes, heading for the area designated for those departing back to the Mongrel Plane. Already, four lesser beings had been whisked away—a stray with a white skull mask, a pup with armor that did no gleam as brilliantly as his, a dog in a skintight dark green bodysuit, and a rabid mutt clad in dark armor corrupted enough to make his nose wrinkle in disgust.

Mongrels. All of them.

He. Was. KING.

With absolute confidence in himself, the King of Heroes threw his head back in an amused laugh, pitying the poor sods who thought themselves worthy to squabble over his treasure. Could you imagine such a ridiculous notion? There were none who could hold a candle to him, and yet those fools still believed they held the most miniscule of chances!

What an amusing joke!

Gilgamesh's grin nearly split his face as he spread his arms wide before the glowing portal, basking for a moment at the thought of gracing the Mongrel Plane with his presence once more.

"I shall—"

"Excuse me! Coming through!"

"Wha—?"

Utterly startled, Gilgamesh stumbled backwards in a fashion wholly unbefitting for a king of his stature. Burning with indignation and murder of the highest degree, he opened his mouth to angrily reprimand this mon…grel?

Crimson eyes softly tinged with pink glanced back at him over a petite shoulder, framed by pink hair done up in pigtails and held in place by simple red ribbons. The girl—whoever she was—wore a frilly costume that emphasized her youth and sweet innocence, radiating an aura of hope that seemed to calm even the raging inferno that was his anger. She clutched a rosewood bow tightly in her left hand, the weapon oozing with a profound power that made his hackles rise slightly even in his—embarrassingly enough—brief moment of adoration.

The girl gave a small, apologetic smile, which made his conceited heart sigh blissfully in admiration.

…And then she was gone.

And with her, his heart.

…A Heroic Spirit, huh?

Homura felt the urge to laugh, but with Irisviel sitting beside her on the Einzberns' private jet, she settled for a faint, amused smile instead.

The Holy Grail must have a twisted sense of humor. I'm no hero—I couldn't even save Madoka or keep her from contracting with that damned Incubator. And with all of those worlds I left to burn…I could've cared less about their fate in the end. My battlefield existed somewhere else by then.

…You can't have a hero who fails all the time at protecting even one person—you can't call them that.

And even now…I still can't protect her.

Her smile vanished, to be replaced by a troubled frown as she turned her gaze to the plane's window, watching the clouds drift by as their plane sped to Japan for the Holy Grail War. Violet eyes searched longingly above, hoping to catch even a brief glimpse of that pink-haired Goddess, high as she was in a domain one step away from heaven…It was cruel; so cruel.

To be so close, yet so far…she couldn't help but think to herself, feeling that familiar twist in her heart as the clouds yielded absolutely nothing, not even the pinkish tint she sometimes thought was there for the briefest of moments. But unlike before, Time and Space separate us now—She has a duty to attend to. So even if She takes me away—

Homura stiffened as her blood ran cold, remembering why she was in this Holy Grail War in the first place.

Emiya Kiritsugu had been in need of a Servant…and the Holy Grail had answered his call.

Quite sadistically, she might add.

Scowling furiously and burning with a hatred as hot as a thousand splendid suns, the former time traveler broke her seat's armrest with how hard she was gripping it, sending the pieces dangerously flying in all directions and waking Irisviel from her nap. It was, after all, hard to stay asleep when a metal sliver was suddenly lodged an inch away from your ear.

"Huh…? Ah! Ri—Rider?!"

Why the HELL did you bring me here?! Homura asked for the umpteenth time, violently forcing her way through the connection she held with the Grail as a Servant to address it directly. Under normal circumstances, such a thing wouldn't be possible, as the Grail shouldn't intervene with the War's participants.

Then again, a Heroic Spirit who had lived 1,200 years prior to receiving recognition by the Throne of Heroes shouldn't be possible, either.

…Even if she had technically been reliving the same month over and over and over again for most of that time.

Unfortunately…she got the same response as always:

Shut up. Shits and giggles. Fight in the damn War.

…To which the Grail forced her back out.

Again.

"Rider?"

Irisviel's touch was light on her arm, and her voice was soft and cautious, to be used when dealing with something dangerous and volatile; something that could lash out at a moment's notice, like an animal backed into a corner. At the thought of scaring her, Homura felt a twinge of regret for breaking the armrest, if only because her faux Master reminded her so much of Madoka that it…that it…

"'Homura' is fine."

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she inwardly—but nonetheless viciously—cursed herself for letting her sentiments take over in a moment of weakness. She's not Madoka, you heartsick fool…

"Homu…ra," Irisviel began again, hesitating over her real name as her brow furrowed worriedly. "Is something the matter? Airsickness?"

Can a Servant even get airsick? Homura couldn't help but wonder as she gently brushed off the Einzbern's hand. "I'm fine, Irisviel. I've crashed jets into an enemy's face—while I do not exactly relish the act of falling several hundred feet, heights do not scare me." She sighed heavily, running a hand through her long dark hair and combing out any tangles she may have had from napping earlier. "It's just…I should not be here."

"Did you…not plan to be here?" Irisviel's worried frown was much too similar to Madoka's version. Distressingly so.

In spite of that, Homura could not keep the hateful scowl from forming on her face at the memory of that night…of that horrible separation. "Do I look like King Arthur to you? And as a Servant—Rider is a far cry from what should be my optimal class. Assassin or Archer, I can understand, and maybe even Caster…but Rider of all things? I shouldn't have qualified, not even with the gas tanker."

The Einzbern's frown deepened as the wheels turned in her head. "So what you're saying is…"

"Something else is at work. Or in other words, the Holy Grail itself," Homura muttered, crossing her arms. "In which case, you shouldn't assume the rules will be the same for this War. There's no telling what will happen, so you must stay vigilant at all times. I doubt even your husband will be able to stay ahead of the game, for all his strategic planning."

Irisviel nodded in agreement, her lips curling into a small, sad smile as she settled back into her seat, careful to stay clear of the metal splinter sticking out of the headrest like a dagger. Her crimson eyes, rich as wine, searched hers with undisguised curiosity. "You know…You don't speak like someone your age should. Has life really gotten that hard in the future?"

The future…A future beyond Walpurgis Night, which I never got to see. A future with—

"Mine was," Homura answered evenly, trying to decide how much she should reveal. Her true age was definitely out of the question—that would be a bit…too much for Irisviel to wrap her mind around. "This may surprise you to know this…but I was what you would call a 'Magical Girl' in my lifetime. Alternatively, we were known as Puellae Magi. We referred to ourselves as such."

Irisviel giggled, clear and bright, like the tinkling of bells. The ache in her heart eased a little at that—Madoka's laugh rang with a far purer sound, which always made her heart leap to her throat. "A Magical Girl? Perhaps I should have given you something different to wear, then!"

Earlier, the Einzbern had given her a French Continental black suit, tailored specifically for her, and chosen to balance her own outfit, which was predominantly white. Of course, that was after she had made her try on countless other clothes to wear…However, the red ribbon in her hair stayed despite the stark contrast to her black color scheme—intuitively, Irisviel must have known that to part her from it was to ask for death of the most violent kind.

"Are you sure I won't stand out, Irisviel?" Homura had asked then as she eyed herself critically in the mirror, tugging uncertainly at her tie. "Perhaps it would've been better if I wore a school uniform instead."

"Well, with this, you look like a young Mafia boss! At least people will know to stay clear, right?" Irisviel had piped up optimistically, smiling brightly before giving way to a contemplative frown. "Although…I can't help but feel as if someone else should be wearing this, too."

"I feel that as well." It was an utterly strange feeling she had never encountered before, with all of her repetitions in Time...and she was quite familiar with déjà vu, mostly because she was the one causing it.

Halfway across the world, a certain blond—coincidentally dressed in a black suit as well—sneezed, earning a concerned look from the Queen and a few hushed words of warning from the dark-haired boy beside her.

Something different to wear, hm? I doubt Kyubey would want his Puellae Magi to fight in suits—that wouldn't contribute well to convincing young girls to contract. He'd want them to wear cute outfits to better advance his sales pitch…

Homura's lips quirked into a wry smile as she began her familiar lecture on the truth behind being a Puella Magi. "Irisviel…being a Puella Magi isn't like what anime depicts us as. Kindness turns to naivety, courage becomes foolhardiness, and dedication has no reward. To fight our enemies was to walk with death, and what awaited us at the very end of our task was a fate worse than what death could possibly offer." She absently fingered the ring on her hand, safe beneath her gloves. "If a Puella Magi's source of power became too corrupted from overuse, or if she gave into despair…she would become the very enemy she had sworn to fight—a Witch. Monsters that would give nightmares to children and adults alike."

Irisviel's crimson eyes widened as she put two and two together. "Mahou…Shoujo…'Magical Girl,'" she whispered. "Majo…'Witch.'" Inwardly, Homura had to admit she was impressed by her grasp of the Japanese language, despite being a German native.

Homura nodded, curling her hands into fists in an effort to keep them from shaking in anger. "There was a creature called Kyubey—one I came to know as the Incubator. I suppose in stereotypical Magical Girl terms, he was the cute, helpful mascot. He approached young girls with an offer, a contract, to grant their most heartfelt wish, in exchange for a lifetime of battle against Witches."

Irisviel fiddled nervously with her hands, brow furrowed. "But why would these girls contract with this Kyubey? Don't they know what's in store for them?"

Her hands began to drum a rhythm on her knees in an effort to keep her fury towards that damned plush toy in check. "That's the catch—he doesn't tell them the full details behind the contract. They become Puellae Magi without ever knowing the horrible truth behind the monsters they fight. And those that do…"

A memory flashed through her mind—of ribbons binding her tightly; of tears running from golden eyes; of the heart-wrenching sobs from a girl in pink.

"They become Witches. Simple as that."

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock. Tick, tock…

Tick, tock…

Tick—

Homura flinched, immediately curling her hands back into fists—she had been absently following the steady pace of a clock's hand, counting the time…Forever to be ruled by Time. Its sands were ingrained into her very soul; its metronomic ticking and tocking a distant rhythm her ears would always tune into; its numbers swimming before her eyes as seconds blurred into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, years into decades, decades into centuries, centuries into—!

"Homura!"

"Homura-chan!"

…Since when was she face-to-face with Irisviel…?

The Einzbern's face was mere inches from hers; crimson eyes filled with alarm and concern as her hands gripped her shoulders tightly with a strength she would never have guessed. Homura's distant gaze focused sharply, suddenly noting that no one should have been able to get that close without her noticing. Not unless she…

This time-shield will be the death of me, I swear…

From what she had been able to gather on her faux Master, Irisviel was generally a very cheerful, very warm and bright person. Quick to tease, (relatively) slow to anger, a heart full of compassion, and filled with a childish air that contrasted with the maturity she displayed when being a mother.

…She was being a mother right now. Very much so.

"Homura…if those girls gave into their despair over the truth and became Witches…then why haven't you if you know about them?" Irisviel's voice was low and curt, uncharacteristically so. "How old were you when you contracted?"

This, she could answer quite fine. "I was fourteen when Kyubey approached me."

"And how old were you when you died?" Her voice was strangely strained.

Physically? "Fourteen, maybe fifteen." The words slipped through her lips easily, like quicksilver.

It was a mistake to meet the Einzbern's gaze. An utter mistake.

"Liar," Irisviel whispered softly, eyes narrowing, attempting to discern the truth in her gaze.

Crimson…Much too close. Far too close. A darker shade than what should be there. A richer shade. A lighter shade. Tinged softly with crimson. Something pink—

"Does it really matter?" Homura said brusquely, scowling as she easily shrugged off the Einzbern's grip and straightened out any wrinkles in her suit, brushing off any remains from the armrest incident earlier. According to the screen at the front of the cabin, they were due to land in Japan in roughly an hour…It would not be good to get caught in security with a metal shard.

1 hour, 3 minutes, 46 seconds and 23 milliseconds, to be exact…Not soon enough, either way.

"I will win this war as quickly as I can. That is all that matters."

Irisviel bit her lip, accepting that that was all she would be getting out of the stoic Servant, and shifted so that she was sitting comfortably in her seat again. One of the maids Jubstacheit sent with them stopped by to ask if they wanted a drink, but one look at the ruined armrest sent her hurriedly scurrying away, hastily bowing as she retreated. Neither of them paid her much attention—they probably didn't even see or hear her.

Such is the life of background characters.

The Einzbern sighed heavily, threading a hand through her silvery hair to comb out the tangles as she gazed thoughtfully at the screen, where their plane was steadily approaching Japan. "You and Kiritsugu…both have the same air about you. But…I don't think you'll get along as well as I hope you will."

"I thought our shooting session earlier was proof of that."

Irisviel managed a smile at that, and Homura was relieved to feel the tension slowly dissipating. She did not relish another round of interrogations, no matter how concerned the Einzbern was for her—to ask any more questions was to get closer, and to get closer meant making it difficult to part. "He still has his pride as a marksman to uphold, Homura. Couldn't you have gone easy on him?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, relishing the memory of his defeat in her mind with uncharacteristic zeal. "He foolishly assumed his skills were superior. Naturally, I had to prove him wrong, especially with how long it takes him to aim."

The Einzbern blinked. "But…both of you were so fast."

"He consistently took at least a second or two to aim."

"And that's bad…?"

"Against me, yes," Homura said bluntly. "He is lucky that I have more pressing matters that require my attention."

Irisviel grew quiet then, her expression growing pensive once more as she absently fiddled with a lock of her silvery hair, curling it around her finger. For a while, the only sounds that could be heard was the faint sound of the maids talking somewhere near the back of the cabin, and the dull roar of the wind outside as they sped closer and closer to the battlefield. Finally, the Einzbern spoke quietly, "You don't like Kiritsugu…do you?"

"I don't," the former time traveler said coldly, her directness and quick answer enough to make Irisviel flinch in surprise. "You were there when I was summoned."

"I see…" she muttered disappointedly, far, far too much like how Madoka would have said it. "And I don't suppose you'll change your mind any time soon?"

"Of course not," Homura said almost at once, turning her gaze back to the window, violet eyes immediately searching high above. "As I have said many times before…I will win this war as quickly as I can. Whether or not his help would be of any actual usefulness, I personally do not care. However…I have already promised him that I would protect you to the best of my ability."

Again, the clouds yielded nothing.

"…And I always keep my promises."

Emiya Kiritsugu stared intently at the screen before him, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, not even lit and all but forgotten in the past few hours he and Maiya had been laboriously reviewing the footage taken from the Tohsaka manor last night.

"Replay."

Maiya complied readily, and the images on the screen rewound back to the beginning. They watched as an ebony-skinned man deftly wove his way through Tohsaka Tokiomi's magical defenses in the courtyard, easily destroying the crystals responsible with a simple flick of a pebble that would later inspire a certain childish electromaster. He moved with the fluidity of a cat stalking its prey, and the flexibility of a snake, bending at seemingly impossible angles. In spite of himself, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy upon watching Assassin easily bypassing the security.

If only I had moves like that when I was younger…

At last, the Servant reached the crystal in the center of the courtyard—the final obstacle before breaching the Tohsaka stronghold. Kiritsugu swallowed, his attention riveted to the screen and hoping to catch something else he failed to notice in the last few thirty times they had replayed this footage. Assassin reached for the crystal…and a pink arrow zipped through the air, pinning his hand feather-deep to the pedestal it was resting on. They saw him look up, his mouth open in a soundless scream as his blood dripped onto the cobblestones. A moment later, a barrage of pink arrows descended upon him with all the fury of a god, tearing apart the earth and effectively destroying a sizeable portion of the courtyard in its thunderous wake.

The video ended there.

Sighing tiredly at yet another failed attempt to glean more information, Kiritsugu leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face as he closed his eyes. "…Assassin would not fall for such an obvious trick. Moreover, no one could have possibly detected him there unless it was prearranged," he muttered, gripping his cigarette tight enough to almost bend it as he thought back to the condescending smirk on his own Servant's face. "The Presence Concealment skill makes certain of that, at least until he decides to strike."

"So we proceed with caution and assume a possible alliance between Tohsaka Tokiomi and Kotomine Kirei," he heard Maiya say curtly. "And what of the Tohsaka Servant?"

Pink lights flashed across his mind; a rain of deadly arrows ripping mercilessly into Assassin's flesh. "That is simple…He possesses an Archer, of that there should be no doubt," Kiritsugu said as he opened his eyes, standing up to pace about the room and stretch his legs. "A very strong Archer, at that. The pink color of the arrows should help in narrowing down our list of suspected Heroes, given its uniqueness and the femininity associated with it."

He already had one such suspect in mind.

The Magus Killer reached into his pocket, fingers closing around his battered old lighter as he straightened out the slight bend in his cigarette. "Also, make sure to post a familiar near the Fuyuki Church—get it close enough to be undetectable. I don't trust this War's Overseer, more so after last night's events."

"Understood…What of the Madam and Rider?"

Kiritsugu scowled as he lit his cigarette with a practiced hand. "They should be arriving soon. Our weapons caches have been expanded, yes?"

"Of course." Maiya's expression remained stoic, but her eyes betrayed her desire to say something regarding the huge—and she meant huge—arsenal they now had in their possession—he had known her long enough to see past her steely, dark gaze.

"Good…And the materials I requested?"

His assistant gestured towards the bed, where several cases lay neatly assorted by size. Taking a quick drag of his cigarette, Kiritsugu unclasped the most weathered-looking case with a certain tenderness normally reserved for his wife, or little Illya. A Thompson Contender lay upon velvet cushioning, its barrel gleaming faintly beneath the dim light still emanating from the screen. The Magus Killer unclasped the case next to it, revealing several rows of special bullets—his Origin Rounds that could render a Mage's magic circuits entirely useless for the rest of their life.

A thought had entered his mind then—something he had reluctantly considered after the shooting session.

Now the only question is…can she bring herself to shoot Archer when the time comes?

"Kyouko!"

"Sakura-san!"

"You idiot, where are you going?!"

"Sakura-san, please…!"

Kyouko angrily chomped down the rest of her Pocky stick, doubling her stride as she gave her trusty spear a few test spins, relishing the fluid way it moved in her practiced hands, and the audible sound it made as it smoothly cut through the air. The chains would never need to be oiled either, which was always a good thing. She'd hate it if she couldn't properly strangle or bind her opponent just cuz the damn things got stuck or some other shit like that. Her lips curled into her signature fang-toothed grin as she continued to ignore her friends' demands for her to tell them what the hell was going on.

Thank Godoka, you could go all out in a fight here and never have to worry about permanently dying, or turning into a Witch.

Time for shit to get real!

At last, Kyouko arrived at the Main Pavilion, the central hub of Valhalla, located just in front of Godoka's palace…castle…domicile…hall…house…thing. Whatever—personally, she didn't care all that much what it was called. It was just a place she could drop by and raid the enormous—seriously, it was huge as hell—fridge in the kitchen, one that the Goddess had been kind enough to label: "Just for Kyouko-chan! Please do not touch~"

"Or she will kill you. Violently." Kyouko had added in at the bottom of the sign in her childish scrawl, using a permanent marker to do it…cuz that shit is permanent.

However, this time her destination was not—unfortunately—that glorious fridge, but the majestic fountain located in the center of the pavilion, where a large statue of the Goddess Herself was erected, pointing Her large-ass bow to the sky and drawing back one of Her Arrows. Sure, it looked noble and majestic, but Kyouko personally thought the statue's chest was a bit more developed than she last remembered…

She jammed the butt of her spear between the cobblestones, earning more than a few looks of surprise and alarm from the many other Puellae Magi milling about the large pavilion or simply passing by. Her grin widened in anticipation, eager for the fight of her (after)life as she placed her hands on her hips, took a deep breath, and—

"ALL OF YOU ARE WEAK AND SPINELESS PIECES OF SHIT, Y'KNOW THAT?! I BET YOU CAN'T EVEN TAKE ME DOWN, WITH ALL OF YOU AT ONCE! I'LL WHUP ALL OF YOUR ASSES SO DAMN HARD, GODOKA HERSELF WILL HAVE TO BRING YOU BACK!"

…As expected, the Main Pavilion exploded with the sounds of a hundred different furious protests. A select few simply ignored her—admittedly—ridiculous challenge and continued what they were doing, but most were already donning their Puella Magi outfits, tightly gripping their weapons if they had one as they shouted angrily at her.

"In all my years, I've never seen such flagrant disrespect! And in front of the Goddess' statue, no less!"

"Are you calling Oriko weak, you dumb bitch?!"

"Thou dost dare to insinuate that thine blade is strongest of us all?!"

"Kirika, you know it's not worth it—we can just watch as she's ripped apart by the others."

"What the hell?! I've met other Puellae Magi who look stronger than you!"

"B—But she just insulted you!"

"Ya wanna 'ave a fight, bitch? Cuz yer ass is the one that's gonna get handed to ya!"

"Kirika…"

"Pacifist I may normally be, but I'll make an exception for arrogant fools like you!"

"But Oriiiiiiikkkkoooooo…"

"Gingers have no souls! Gingers have no souls! Why are you even here?!"

The spear-wielder couldn't help but widen her grin, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as the crowd bristled angrily all around the Main Pavilion—the first move would not be long now.

Now this…is more like Valhalla!

Kyouko flexed her fingers and tightened her grip around her trusty spear…but before she could spring into action and start taking names, a hand closed around her arm in a vice-like hold. Taken aback, she couldn't help but yelp a bit in surprise, whipping her head around to face her attacker with a desire to kill that almost rivaled the other Puellae Magi in the pavilion.

Almost.

"What the fucking hell was tha—Oh…I forgot you guys were there."

Sayaka's ocean-blue eyes glared angrily at her, never once relinquishing her hold on the spear-wielder's arm. Damn, since when did she get so fucking strong?! Kyouko couldn't help but think as she started to squirm around frantically, trying to free herself. "Oi! Let me go, Hero Complex!"

They ran around her spear in a weird sort of dance as the redhead continued her attempts to break free.

"Kyouko, what the hell do you think you're doing?! Just because Madoka's being lax right now doesn't mean that you can go ahead and spread chaos!" the swordswoman shrilly exclaimed, using her other hand to angrily pull at Kyouko's cheeks.

"Ow, ow, owwwwie, owwwwwww! Damn it, Sayaka! Stop that!" Kyouko yelled, finally managing to free her arm, only to use both of her hands to protect her face. "Jesus Christ, I'm being oppressed over here! I'm being oppressed! Does anyone see this?! And you call yourself a knight of justice?!"

"Sakura-san," Mami's voice suddenly cut through, calm and dignified as always (except for those timelines where she went crazy after finding out the truth, but that's not important right now). "If you want us to help you out of this mess you've caused for yourself, perhaps you'd care to explain?"

"Tell this crazy knight to stop messing with my face, first!"

And suddenly, Berserker was born! …Not really.

"Miki-san…You're not helping."

Finally, the constant attack on her cheeks quickly subsided as Sayaka backed off, angrily crossing her arms as she scowled at the redhead despite the hints of worry in her ocean-blue eyes. Kyouko gave her a fang-toothed grin as she rubbed at the lingering stinging in her cheeks, trying not to show how much it had actual hurt. "Love you too, Hero Complex."

The bluenette rolled her eyes, although a faint blush rose to her own face. "Is now really the time, Kyouko?"

"Hell, any time is the right time with—"

Mami coughed loudly, even as she attempted to remain dignified. "You were explaining your suicidal plan to us, Sakura-san?"

It's not suicidal! I can easily take on all of these weaklings by myself! Kyouko thought, even as a part of her was already writing her mental will. Outwardly, however, her grin merely grew. "So…you know how you have to do something awesome and great to get into the Throne of Heroes and become a badass Heroic Spirit? Well, I thought to myself…why not challenge the greatest Puellae Magi throughout history and kick their sorry asses to the curb? It's almost like fighting the actual Heroes themselves! It's a foolproof plan!"

They both blinked in unison…That was a bit freaky.

"What."

"Um…"

"See? Look! I'm sure there are a few heroines in there somewhere!" Kyouko said excitedly, pointing at the bloodthirsty crowd slowly closing in upon her. "Holy shit, Mulan's over there…And she looks like she wants to kill me! This is great!"

Mami sighed heavily as Sayaka continued to stare at her as if she had announced that she would go on a diet—as if that would ever fucking happen—opening and closing her mouth like a fish. "Honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if simply challenging all of Valhalla would get you into the Throne of Heroes…more so if you actually somehow last long enough to make your point."

I will make my damn point and you will have a shit-ton more confidence in my ability to get into the Throne, y'hear?!

"Whatever," Kyouko scoffed, yanking her spear out of the ground and giving it a few test twirls before pulling out a candy bar from her pocket. "I just gotta fight a huge number of 'em, right? Like, say…a hundred?"

"Now you're just copying what Akemi-san did." Mami deadpanned as Sayaka finally shook herself from her shocked stupor; a strange mixture of worry and fury forming on her face.

"Are you out of your mind, Kyouko?! And you call me a complete idiot!" the bluenette shrieked, grabbing the spear-wielder by the front of her battle garb and shaking her violently.

Thankfully, this time Kyouko managed to brush her off, smirking all the while. "Hey, you called yourself an idiot…you idiot."

"ARRRGGGHHH! This is all on you, you got that?! Have fun dying—again!" Sayaka exclaimed, sharply turning around with an admittedly epic flip of her cape as she started to walk away—the bloodthirsty crowd was seconds away from attacking, after all. "Come on, Mami-san. Let's go have some cake while Kyouko kills herself with stupidity."

"Damn, Sayaka. That's a bit cold, don't you think?"

"I suppose we can. I think I might still have one left in the picnic basket."

"Mami, not you too?!"

The beret-wearing blond glanced back at her as they walked off, smiling in that annoying sempai way. "Your entire plan hinges on you overcoming the odds overwhelmingly stacked against you. We can't help you become a Heroic Spirit, Sakura-san. You can only help yourself."

A Hawaiian shirt. The girl needed a damn Hawaiian shirt.

"Tch…! If Homerun can do it, then so can I!" Kyouko grumbled as she turned around, cramming the candy bar down her mouth and shifting into her preferred battle stance as the long-range attackers fired their first shots, which she easily dodged, courtesy of the many practice sessions with Mami. "I don't need Sayaka here with me or anything…"

Her smile is too distracting, anyway…and her hair is too blue and silky.

"You little bitch, I'll tear you to shreds!"

"Prepare thyself, arrogant wench! For thou shalt taste mine blade a hundredfold this day!"

"But Oriko, can't I just rough her up a little bit?"

"No."

Well…here goes nothing.

Sakura Kyouko took a deep breath…and charged into the fray.

"I am a Master who has lost his Servant. In accordance with the Heaven's Feel agreement…I, Kotomine Kirei, humbly request the protection of the Holy Church."

The words fell from his lips with all the sincerity of a certain time traveler trying to deny that she was absolutely, positively, unequivocally obsessed with a certain pinkette.

The elderly priest before him sharply nodded once in assent, his hands solemnly folded behind his back as he spoke the traditional reply, "And I, Kotomine Risei, Overseer of Fuyuki City's Fourth Holy Grail War, hereby grant this request."

With the charade completed, Kirei stood up from his kneeling position on the ground just as the priest stood aside in the doorway to make room for him, the serious expression on his weathered features never faltering. He entered the church wordlessly, his footfalls loud on the wooden floorboards in the silence of the night, disturbed only by the chorus of insects and all sorts of other nocturnal creatures prowling about.

"Father…do you think any familiars are watching the church?" Kirei asked as the older man closed the door behind him.

"There should be none," the priest answered gruffly, shuffling past his son to head for a room hidden beyond the altar. "This church is neutral territory, as dictated by those before us in the previous Wars. And besides…defeated Masters should be of no importance to those left in the running."

The room was small and sparsely decorated with a couch along the wall, an armchair, a coffee table and a wooden door leading to another room consisting of a simple bed and dresser. Kirei sat down in the armchair while his father opted to remain on his feet, walking over to the only window available. "Even if they think that way, we shouldn't lower our guard," the younger man stated, addressing his words to the doorway from whence they had just entered. "Someone needs to be on watch in the church at all times. Was there also someone at the estate?"

"As you wish, my Lord Kirei…" a disembodied voice answered back before a shape began to form from the shadows in the room. "And yes…that was me."

A lithe, ebony-skinned woman stood in the doorway, her long violet hair held up in a ponytail and the white mask of the Old Man of the Mountain adorning her face. Her clothes seemed to be made of shadows, writhing on their own as Assassin gave a brief, humble bow before her Master. "There were traces of three different familiars at the scene. Two Masters did not witness the event."

Two? I had intended for all five to witness the farce we've played, Kirei thought, feeling neither disappointment nor anger—he felt absolutely nothing. "It is unfortunate, but cannot be helped. Father…the seven Servants have already been summoned, correct?" he said, turning to look at the older man.

The priest stroked his chin, tearing his gaze from the window to meet his son's. "Yes. The last one, Caster, was just summoned not too long ago. The spirit board does not provide names, but the Servants are definitely out and about. However, there appears to be one team that is still overseas…" he rumbled, furrowing his brow worriedly. "No matter; the call of the Holy Grail will bring them to Fuyuki soon enough."

"To observe the three main families should be something all Masters should do, regardless of their level of skill," Assassin harshly spoke. "Anyone foolish enough to lower their guard in such a way is not worth our time. Wouldn't you agree…Lord Kirei?"

Kirei made a noncommittal noise from his throat as he shifted his gaze to the Command Seals on the back of his hand, stark against his pale skin. If they were to continue along with this farce, he made a mental note to wear gloves the next time he left the church.

Gloves…

"…Is it regrettable that one of your brethren died?"

His Servant—one of the 99 Assassins in the War—shook her head, her voice calm as she spoke, "That Hassan did not have anything particularly special to contribute in this War. His loss does not affect the rest of us, but still—"

"Still, what?" He felt no genuine curiosity regarding the fate of the Assassin who had died, but it could be advantageous to learn how this aspect of Hassan-i-Sabbah was like.

"Well…Why don't you try getting to know other people, Kirei-san?"

"I…cannot say that his death affects us, but no matter how you look at it, a loss is still a loss…I do not wish to think that his sacrifice was in vain."

She does not approve, but must remain humble…A diplomat in her previous life—perhaps a Hassan with a quick wit and smooth words, knowing when to strike and when to stay her hand, Kirei mused, stroking his chin pensively. "That would not be unreasonable to think. His sacrifice was not in vain, after all, for the Masters now believe Assassin to be dead. Under the guise of death, you and your brethren can roam unhindered, changing the tide of battle."

How would she have answered that question, I wonder…?

"Indeed, that is true," Assassin conceded with a faint hint of relief, bowing her head as she began to meld into the shadows. "I shall post the watch now, as per your orders. By your leave, my Lord Kirei."

"Of course."

As soon as she was gone, a moment of silence descended upon the two Kotomines before Risei finally cleared his throat, looking a little bit sheepish in spite of the dignified air about him. "To be quite frank, Kirei…your Servant unsettles me in a frightening way. You cannot tell what their eyes hold behind their mask, and their presence is…far too ghost-like to ever put me at ease, even as Overseer."

At least they were certain of their path in life…unlike me, the younger man thought with an inward sigh, lightly touching the cross around his neck.

"Well, then…with this, the Holy Grail War has now begun," the priest declared, folding his arms behind him as he chuckled. "Perhaps these old bones of mine will live to see a miracle, eh?"

Kirei turned his gaze to the window as his father exited the room, unable to share in his enthusiasm. He had no wish for the Grail to grant—his purpose in this War was to aid Tohsaka Tokiomi and nothing more.

…The Holy Grail had chosen him for that purpose alone.

"Hmm…would that really be true, Kirei-san? Nothing is ever set in stone, you know…"

Pink eyes, with a slight shade of crimson.

"I speak from experience. As long as you have hope…you can change your own fate."

His hand closed around the cross, and he held it to his lips.

How would she have answered that question…?

…She would have smiled sadly, shaking her pink-haired head.

"A death is still a death, and even if it was by my arrows that he died…I would still mourn him. The others believe it is a sign of weakness to cry, to feel a sense of loss, but…I want to acknowledge that his role was important, Kirei-san."

She would probably have tears in her eyes, as well—she had pleaded for Tohsaka Tokiomi to reconsider his plans, after all.

"I appreciate what he's done—even if I don't think it was the best way—and if I could, I'd want to thank him for doing a good job."

Her hands, folded in her lap, would shake.

"He deserved to know that much, at least. Because unlike Homura-chan…I'll never see him again. I wouldn't want him to die with regret, cursing the world."

She would swallow, hard, and mutter something almost too low for him to catch.

Almost.

"…Never again."

He watched as she struggled desperately for breath, her face red and tears streaming from her violet eyes at the intense, unadulterated fear that this moment would be her last. All around her bed, the hospital staff scurried back and forth with machines, tubes, oxygen masks, and a stomach-turning number of medications and needles. A weary-looking doctor barked orders while a nearby machine's beeping continued to beep ever so slowly…before finally stabilizing to an acceptable pace after an oxygen mask was placed on her face and several injections punctured all over her pale skin. A few more minutes later, she would have to take at least five different medications, presuming the same thing didn't repeat itself.

For a long time…this was an almost 'normal' occurrence at the hospital.

He watched as—at long last—her condition stabilized enough to allow her to attend school again; to be among those within her age group instead of the nurses and doctors; to be in a different environment devoid of the stench of disinfectant and the constant beeping of the machines. She suddenly had to catch up to years of schoolwork she had fallen behind on, and sometimes the nurses would be kind enough to offer help. The school had also sent a new student handbook, filled with enough rules and regulations to make her poor head ache from the information overload and anxiety settle in her stomach.

"Why don't you come in and introduce yourself to the class?"

He watched as that anxiety tripled in force when the time came for the first day of school—her first day in years. The teacher finally called for her after a particularly heated tirade on the way one cooks their eggs, voice sweet and welcoming. She entered the classroom hesitantly, her schoolbag protectively held in front of her like a shield, as if that would ward off the curious stares given by her new classmates. The teacher wrote her name on the board, and he could see the trembling in her knees; the sweat dripping down the back of her neck; the terror in her violet eyes, behind those red-framed glasses. The poor thing was almost about to faint from sheer nervousness and pee-inducing fear…yet still she held on, optimistic and determined.

"M—My name is A—Akemi Homura…I hope we can…all be friends!"

He watched as she gave a humble bow, to the welcoming clapping of her new classmates. Her violet eyes shown with a warmth and hopefulness he would never have expected—a contrast to the bitterness and cynicism he was used to seeing there. She fiddled with her braids—now that was a surprising feature—whenever she was nervous, such as when the Health Representative of the class offered to escort her to the Nurse's Office for her medication.

The girl had pink hair held up in simple pigtails by cute red ribbons that emphasized her youth and innocence. Her eyes were pink as well, tinged softly with crimson and filled with genuine warmth and kindness as she smiled brightly at the demure girl that would later become the cold and stoic Rider he would have as a Servant.

"My name is Kaname Madoka. Just call me 'Madoka'!"

Emiya Kiritsugu frowned contemplatively as he took a drag from his cigarette, gazing out at the city from his spot on the bridge. Several feet below him, the Mion River's waters rippled like a living creature beneath the city's lights…but unfortunately, the stars could not be seen here, not at its heart. The water could not reflect those beautiful beacons of light in the sky...Such a shame—the stars could always be seen at Arimago Island.

The Magus Killer's frown deepened as he pushed away the painful memories of his childhood home. It would do no good for him in the Holy Grail War to be distracted, after all. Distraction was extremely fatal in the battlefield—he had seen far too many people die before his eyes because of it.

…And what exactly have you seen, Rider? Kiritsugu mused as his thoughts came back full circle to the dreams he had witnessed the night before, furrowing his brow and exhaling the smoke from his cigarette. What could possibly have led to such a drastic change? What did you see? What did you do?

What could she have possibly done to transform from that shy, hopeful girl to the cold Servant she was now?

He needed these answers—he needed to understand this Servant of his and to use the knowledge as leverage. Contrary to what his Servant thought of him, Kiritsugu was no fool. He had seen the murderous intent in her violet eyes after the summoning; he had felt the intense desire to violently kill him strongly emanating from her. The reason why, he was not entirely certain. To make matters worse, her Independent Action was higher than should be for one of the Rider class, and he was loathe to use a Command Seal to force her obedience, especially after witnessing firsthand the skillful way she handled her guns.

It should have been impossible.

Rider's shooting abilities were easily characteristic of someone three times her age…if not more. She was but 14 it seemed, and even if she were a prodigy, it still should have been impossible, even if she had practiced for every second of her life. She wielded those guns like a master among masters; like a true extension of herself. He could only assume that in her mind, the bullets had already hit home—pulling the trigger was but a simple formality. To have such skill would take decades to develop fully…maybe even a full lifetime.

…Which was impossible.

"She's only 14," Kiritsugu muttered to himself, dropping his used cigarette to the ground and crushing it out with his boot as he turned to walk back to the hotel, having finished his smoke—it was annoying what rules the establishment insisted on following. "A young girl…A 14-year-old Heroic Spirit, who probably died at that very age."

The Rider he had seen in his dream looked exactly the same—she must have been 14 then, too. Despite the friction between them, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel his anger rise at the thought of what sort of suffering she must have endured, and what sort of hurdles she must have had to overcome in order to become the person she was now…Into a Heroic Spirit.

…Because there was no way a person could go through such a drastic change without some sort of traumatic event, at the least. A simple car crash would not suffice, no…She would have had to—

"She would have had to go through something similar to mine."

Kiritsugu walked on in silence, deeply troubled as he pondered the implications of that thought.

How many other young girls like her have had to go through such a thing…? How many tears have they shed…? How many times have they been driven to the brink of despair…?

It seems…that winning the Grail was more important than ever now.

"…That idiot is going to die."

"I thought that was obvious from the start, Miki-san."

"I don't get why she's so hell-bent on becoming a Heroic Spirit," Sayaka grumbled, hugging her legs close to her and resting her chin on her knees as she watched the violence taking place down below. "We're perfectly fine here…She doesn't even like being a hero."

Sitting beside her on the hill, Mami merely sighed heavily, reaching for the teapot to refill her cup. "I don't think it's a matter of whether or not Sakura-san wants to be a hero. For as long as I've known her, she's always been…quick to get into fights, I suppose."

"Like a true delinquent," the bluenette mumbled, wincing at a particularly vicious blow landed down at the Main Pavilion. "Oh, geez…Madoka's gonna freak when She finds out about this! And on top of bringing the transfer student back with Her…"

The musket-user smiled as she raised her teacup to her lips. "Miki-san, don't you think she no longer qualifies as a 'transfer student'?"

"Arriving in Valhalla is almost the same as transferring in to a new school!" Sayaka exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, just as an explosion rocked the pavilion, followed by several painful screams. "There's just…no paperwork involved and dying is one of the requirements to get in! Do you know how awkward it was trying to introduce myself to Jeanne d'Arc and Cleopatra when I first came here?! And besides, she'll be arriving to…to this!I doubt they'll be able to scrub all the blood off before Madoka gets back!"

Mami took a sip of her tea, closing her eyes serenely even as the frenzied shouts and sounds of battle drifted up to them on the breeze. How there was a breeze in Valhalla or even a blue sky, Sayaka was not too sure—she'd have to ask Madoka about it when She came back. "So…what do you plan to do about it, Miki-san?"

The bluenette stared at her, not really getting what it was that the veteran was getting at. "What do you mean, Mami-san?"

"What I mean to say is…will you try to stop Sakura-san on her fruitless endeavor? You are her weakness, after all. Perhaps she'll listen to you, if not me." the beret-wearing blond said lightly, giving her a wink.

Sayaka's face blossomed red in record time at that. "I—I can't…W—We aren't even—"

Mami sighed, setting down her teacup and reaching for the picnic basket. "Miki-san, all I'm asking is that you look after Sakura-san and…try to distract her, I suppose. I don't want her to do anything that she would come to regret later…or something that might endanger the Mortal Plane."

"But why can't you do it?" the swordswoman asked as the blond took out a few slices of cake, noting that her voice sounded whiny even to her own ears. Then she froze, suddenly realizing the full impact of the veteran's words. "Mami-san…how do you know about that?"

The musket-user nonchalantly cut into her cake with a fork, a small smile on her face. "You've known Madokami since childhood, Miki-san. Even I can tell that She is not the best at keeping secrets—as a Goddess or otherwise."

Sayaka knew that if she was in an anime, there would be a sweatdrop on her head. Instead, she settled for a sheepish look on her face, not denying the veteran's words. "So what you're saying is…"

"I am certain that Sakura-san will discover the portal eventually if she hasn't already done so, seeing how easily I was able to stumble across it. Madokami really should try to hide it better—the curtains are a bit of a dead giveaway."

"B—But it's behind Her throne!"

"And you have to pass near there to get to the Hall of History, correct?" Mami said as she took a small bite of her cake. "So far, the other Puellae Magi do not question Her tastes, but for those of us who have known Her from before…I suppose we are more lax in regards to reverence for Her. More so if it's Sakura-san."

Sayaka could feel the blood draining from her face as the sounds of battle grew even more frenzied down below. Oh, nonononononononononono— "Kyouko hasn't…She hasn't actually discovered it yet, has she?"

"If she has, she hasn't told me about it," the veteran answered simply, taking another bite. "However, I am aware of the times you use the portal to Descend and attend those concerts. I doubt you can find those CDs, T-shirts and other collectibles anywhere else in Valhalla."

Holy crap, she noticed?! I thought I was really careful with my sneaking! The bluenette settled for a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "I, uh…Well, I am the unofficial keeper for it. I think I'm entitled to using it however I want…"

Mami gave her a pointed stare, disapproval in her golden eyes.

"Hey, I have Madoka's permission every time I go! And I never use my real name, either!" Sayaka protested, feeling the tips of her ears growing hot in embarrassment. "Besides, it's not like She was using it, no matter how much She wanted to go see the transfer student. Something about being too nervous…"

Madoka would think like that, even as a Goddess, she inwardly sighed, mentally face-palming at her best friend's silliness. But I suppose it wouldn't have been a good idea anyway, given that girl's obvious obsession with Her…

Sayaka shivered at the possibility of Homura keeping Madoka on the Mortal Plane with her.

…I wouldn't put it past her to kidnap a Goddess.

"But why ask me to babysit her? You're our sempai." There was no way in she was getting stuck with the Clean-Up-After-Kyouko job!

Mami took another bite of her cake, closing her eyes as she chewed. "And you know how to use the portal more effectively than anyone else here, Miki-san. I would look after her if I could, but as the 'official' second-in-command, my place is in Valhalla."

Or in other words…delegate the ordeal of babysitting Kyouko to Sayaka instead.

The bluenette crossed her arms, frowning irritably even as worry fluttered about in her stomach for the redhead. That girl got into waaaaaaaay too many fights on a daily basis alone…someone had to do something about this one.

We're…kinda bound together anyway, right? Seeing how we died together… Sayaka mused as she let out a heavy sigh, resting her chin on her knees and pouting. I can't just…leave her alone after all that.

"Fine…I'll do it. But when Madoka comes back and asks what happened, you're explaining everything to Her."

Mami's only response to that was a faint smile, illuminated by the sudden burst of flames in the Main Pavilion down below, quickly followed by a long string of vicious swears that would have made Jeanne d'Arc faint from the sheer amount of profanity.

"…'Saitou Chiwa'? What sort of a name is that?"

Irisviel giggled as they strolled along the path heading to the beach, her crimson eyes sparkling with a mischievous light at the Heroic Spirit's muttered remark. "You're only bringing this up now, Homura? You don't like the alias I chose for your passport? I think it suits you!"

"It sounds as if it belongs to someone with the characteristics of a fox." The Servant sighed heavily, giving her long, dark hair a casual flick. "If you were going to choose a name, you might as well have used my real one. I doubt anyone in this time period would know of it."

The Einzbern smiled as they continued to walk, nudging her companion with her elbow good-naturedly…which, of course, hit her shoulder, since she was a lot shorter. Ignoring the frown thrown her way, her smile grew. "Your name does sound cool, though! Like a 'flame', hmm? 'Akemi Homura'…it has a nice ring to it, but we wouldn't want the customs officials to remember you, eh? Kiritsugu wouldn't like that."

At the mention of her husband, Rider's expression visibly darkened, her violet eyes narrowing and burning with an intense hatred. The air around them seemed to grow heavier as she—unintentionally or not—made her presence as a Servant fully known. Irisviel jerked away a little, frightened by the strength of her anger. Just as quickly as it had arrived, however, the oppressive feeling dissipated and the dark-haired girl glanced over at her with a sort of apology in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Irisviel beat her to it.

"Why do you hate him so much?"

She couldn't keep the sadness from her voice—after discovering that the both of them had similar skill sets, she had been overjoyed, hoping that they would make for an unbeatable team. The Holy Grail would have easily been in their hands, and their dearest wish could be definitely made a reality! Unfortunately…for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, Rider hated Kiritsugu upon sight. If it wasn't for her intervention back then—

"He denied me my rightful peace," the Servant answered calmly, repeating the same words she had said before, though her voice held a touch of weariness to it this time. "I was about to be reunited with someone…very, very dear to me, and his summoning tore me away from her."

So…she died, and was reunited with someone after death. But even so… "Even so, you're only a copy from the Throne of Heroes. You're not the original Akemi Homura, who has already been reunited with this person after death…assuming that is what you meant," Irisviel stated, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Yet, you speak as if you are the original—that person from before the moment."

Rider arched an eyebrow curiously, her violet eyes betraying her genuine puzzlement. "A copy from the Throne of Heroes? I haven't heard of—"

She stiffened suddenly, her head cocked slightly as if listening to something. Her expression quickly grew angrier and she abruptly stopped in her tracks, fists shaking at her sides. "So you could've had a copy instead?!" Irisviel heard her hiss venomously under her breath. "Why the hell would you—"

Rider paused, and Irisviel took this moment to take a few steps away, warily watching the Servant seemingly speaking to herself. The Heroic Spirit's expression shifted from angry to disgusted, contempt in her violet eyes for…whoever it was she was talking to. I'd like to believe she isn't crazy, the Einzbern thought to herself worriedly as Rider appeared to eventually calm down. She better not be—I'm her unofficial partner for the duration of this War!

And besides, Rider had been so polite earlier when she was escorting her around town, after having confessed that she had never seen the world outside of the Einzbern estate prior to the Holy Grail War…

No, Irisviel reaffirmed, clenching a fist in determination as she took a step forward. Homura is NOT crazy. She's just…doing a Servant thing. Connecting with the Grail or something like that.

In another world, in another time…a certain white-haired girl found that she could somehow still sneeze in spite of the situation at hand, her violet eyes numbly glancing to the pink-haired corpse lying on the ground before her, hand outreached and broken shards of a darkish pink lying on a small, delicate palm, with a bullet shell nearby.

"Is…everything alright?" Irisviel asked tentatively, reaching out a hand.

Rider blinked twice, shaking herself out of her stupor as she dismissed the Einzbern's worried question with a wave. "Everything's fine. I simply…need to hurry and win. There's a sort of ultimatum I have to meet, that's all."

"Where…if you win, you'll be at peace?" Irisviel offered, trying to smile for her. It was genuine—she wanted that peace for this faux Servant of hers, after the tale she had heard on the plane. But…she should get that anyway, even if she doesn't win…right? the Einzbern added as an afterthought as she reclaimed her original spot beside the dark-haired girl.

Her smile worked—the tension in the air was dissipating; almost gone by now. "Something like that," Rider muttered, the ghost of a weary smile on her face as she inclined her head towards the end of the path, where they could see a little bit of the beach and the shimmering, moonlit water beyond. "Shall we? I've already kept you for too long as it is."

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" Irisviel giggled, immediately elated at the thought of seeing the ocean as she linked arms with the Servant, actively ignoring said Servant's mumbled protests and marveling at the cute blush rising to her face. "You've been very nice today, taking me to all of the places I wanted to go, no matter how trivial they were!"

"I don't think 'nice' is a word many people would describe me as…"

"Nonsense!" Irisviel said, beaming brightly at the Heroic Spirit as she bumped her cheek against hers. "Even though you aren't King Arthur, you were a wonderful knight today, Homura. Always so polite and attentive~"

The Servant's blush strengthened in color, and she refused to meet her gaze as they continued to walk. "I…don't think being a knight suits me."

"It suits you just fine! I haven't seen you fight yet, but I can tell that you're strong, and besides…you promised to protect me," the Einzbern huffed, her eyes dancing with a mischievous light. "Doesn't that make you my knight?"

Rider gave her a sarcastic look that said 'You can't argue with that logic' whilst rolling her eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "If that is the case…then you honor me with your words, 'princess,'" she said, playing along for now and even giving a small bow. "Even though I do not deserve them."

Halfway across the world, a certain blond suddenly stood up, shouting "Damn right, you don't!" while glaring angrily towards the east, earning a confused look from both the dark-haired boy sitting beside her and the Prime Minister before them.

So she does have a sense of humor to her!

Irisviel giggled at that and hastened her stride, keeping a firm grip on Rider's arm even though she knew that the dark-haired girl could easily break free if she wanted to…but at the expense of a few bruises or a broken bone for the Einzbern. Rider did promise to protect her, after all. She may be a homunculus, but she would still experience that sort of pain before she could heal herself…and Kiritsugu wouldn't like that if he knew.

The ocean came into full view before them, and Irisviel's mouth dropped open as her crimson eyes widened in childish wonder, soaking in every detail of the sight before her. The breeze carried the salty tang of the sea, and the waves rolled ashore in a muted roar that was slightly comforting. Beneath the moon's light…the water was simply beautiful, sparkling like the stars she liked to watch from her window in the Einzbern castle. Giving a pleased laugh, she tugged Rider along after her, jogging to where the grass gave way to sandy dunes.

"Homura, come on! Let's walk in the water!" Irisviel giggled, finally releasing the blushing Servant as she bent down to take off her boots.

"I…I'd rather not. You'll have to forgive me this once," she heard Rider say with all the curtness she could muster in spite of her awkwardness with the close contact.

…It was like choosing clothes for her all over again.

"We won't be swimming or anything, if that's what you're afraid of," Irisviel teased, smiling at her as she stood back up, now barefoot. "Believe me, I can't swim either. There wasn't much use for it back at the castle."

"I can swim," the dark-haired girl said, sounding a bit miffed as she elegantly flipped her hair, leaving Irisviel to wonder—not for the first time—how she kept it so silky and pristine. "I'm simply…not fond of the ocean."

"Oh? Tell me more," the Einzbern homunculus said as she walked across the beach to reach the water gently lapping at the sands. "The more I spend time with you, the more I get a little envious that I'm not the one experiencing the dream cycles."

…Oops! I shouldn't have said that, should I? Now she'll be reminded of Kiritsugu again…

Irisviel glanced back as the water tickled pleasantly at the spaces between her toes, catching the troubled look on the Servant's face…though no hint of anger towards her husband showed there. Instead, her violet eyes were cast in the direction of the ocean, her eyes unfocused as if reliving a memory.

"The ocean…reminds me of someone I could not get along with, no matter the situation—we clashed far too much to ever become actual friends and over time, I simply gave up. I admit that there were times where I loathed her for her idiocy and tendency to get others into trouble…but there were times that I also pitied her because of her ignorance to the grand scheme of things and the folly of youth," Rider answered quietly. "She was…a Puella Magi, just like I was."

In Valhalla, a certain blue-haired swordswoman sneezed as she continued to watch the massacre occurring in the Main Pavilion from her safe spot on a nearby hill, casually accepting a cake from the blond sitting next to her.

Irisviel walked a bit in a lazy circle around the beach, folding her arms behind her as she inwardly marveled at the softness of the sand and the cool sensation of the water. "And this person you were supposed to reunite with…was she a Puella Magi, too?"

A few moments of silence passed by, and she glanced back at the dark-haired girl still standing where the sand met the grass. Her youthful face held a sad expression that told of living far beyond her years—the same look that the elderly Jubstacheit would get in his moments of contemplative nostalgia to the better days of his youth. (Hopefully to days where he was less mean…)

"I suppose she was."

It was a simple answer, yet Irisviel could feel the hidden weight behind those words.

She must have been staring, wanting to know more, for Rider's lips curled into a wry smile, her violet eyes still filled with that profound sorrow. "Irisviel…if you could have a single wish granted in exchange for your soul, would you take it?"

A wish at the cost of my soul…

"Of course," the Einzbern homunculus answered, smiling warmly at the Heroic Spirit as she strolled back in her direction, a bounce to her step. "That is why I am here, in Fuyuki City, involved with the fourth Holy Grail War. That is why I am not back in Germany, safe within the castle's stone walls and layers of magical fortifications."

Granted, I don't really have much of a choice in the matter, given my purpose in life, but still…I probably shouldn't worry her about that. She has enough on her plate.

"I am here to make Kiritsugu's wish—and by extension, my wish—come true."

A strange blend of annoyance and curiosity filled Rider's eyes as she took a step forward, the breeze tussling her long, dark hair and lending another level of seriousness to the scowl forming on her face. "And what exactly is Emiya Kiritsugu's wish?"

Pride welled up inside of her at the question, yet she could not keep anything but a sad smile from forming on her face, memories flashing through her mind of the many times Kiritsugu would bury his face in her chest at night, weeping bitterly at the injustice of the world and throwing down every barrier he had cautiously built, exposing his soul, his truest self to her…To her, and her alone.

…And she loved him; she loved the man who had saved her that cold, winter day, and she loved the ultimate goal they would risk everything for.

"He wishes to end all conflict in the world…so that no one would ever have to cry again…so that no one would ever have to suffer like he did, all those years ago."

Kriemhild Gretchen.

The Witch of Salvation.

She was the only other one who wished to end all conflict in the world…and she did, initially within a span of 10 days by eradicating all living things on the planet.

…Last time it happened, the process now took 5 minutes at the most, definitely because of the sheer number of my repetitions.

Homura's scowl deepened at that particularly bitter memory, and Irisviel's smile grew sadder, sending a twinge of guilt inside of her for all but metaphorically shooting down their most heartfelt wish with a full-powered Tiro Finale. Her faux Master did not look disappointed at her negative reaction, no…she simply continued to look at her with that sad smile, her crimson eyes conveying her struggle to understand the depth of her hatred, even in the face of an admittedly noble wish…however unrealistic it may be.

Homura herself hadn't even said anything yet.

At last, she gathered her thoughts and spoke, her voice calm as always. "…It is impossible to truly be rid of conflict, Irisviel. To do so would mean the death of all living things capable of it, if not the total erasure of their very existence. Conflict is essential to human nature—it is what shapes us, forces our growth, and drives us to lengths we would never consider before. To deny the human race of that would mean…"

Kriemhild Gretchen…Never again.

How ironic that she must say these next words, her voice choking up slightly at the memory of that final day—the final day when that hellish cycle finally came to an end.

"To change the laws of cause and effect, simply to make it so that living beings will never have to experience conflict again…you would need nothing short of a god."

In the Tohsaka estate, a certain pink-haired Servant sneezed cutely, earning a sharp look from the goateed man in red sitting behind his expensive, mahogany desk.

Homura's hands clenched into fists as she further mulled over their wish in her head. "And even then…such a god cannot possibly remain benevolent for long. The erasure of human existence, or such widespread death—could you still call them a force for good?"

…Never again.

Irisviel remained silent, her brow creasing in deep thought. "But…there's no guarantee that will happen. The Holy Grail will grant a miracle—it may very well give us that ideal world, minus the instant death of all living things as an option."

The former time traveler shook her head, images of that towering mass of darkness reaching for the heavens rapidly flashing through her mind, slowly gaining a more humanoid shape at the very top as the repetitions increased—

"Irisviel…I've dealt with this before."

The richest shade of crimson in existence, with pink hair dark enough to be a deep magenta, yet her skin was still swirling with shadowy darkness—

"Before?"

A sweet voice; that sweet voice…So warm. So kind. So loving—

"Homura-chan…think of it. The end of suffering for good."

"You can't just—!"

Homura froze, cutting herself off as she felt a sudden flare of magic manifesting itself nearby—the intense and overwhelming presence of a Servant out looking for a fight, most definitely clad in full battle array. She whipped her head towards the direction of this magical flare, narrowing her eyes and shoving all thoughts of their previous conversation out of her mind for later, focusing instead on how to address this blatantly obvious challenge being issued to all within radius.

Who knows who else might be lured in by their call? Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll be rid of myself two enemies by tonight…

"Homura?" Her faux Master was looking at her worriedly, walking back to where she stood and retrieving her boots. Her voice was hesitant, as if afraid that she would lash out at her again. "What is it?"

There was another who once spoke like that to her. There was another whom she had shot down their wish. There was another who—

Madoka…

"There is a Servant roughly 100 meters nearby, making its presence fully known," Homura answered critically as she turned her head to give the Einzbern a brief look that said 'we'll continue this later', while trying to guess which Servant it could possibly be…and what plans she should make to counter them. "Shall we answer its invitation? I would much rather employ Kiritsugu's modus operandi, as it would be faster, but given his infuriating plan…"

Irisviel smiled. "I don't see why not—we have to keep up appearances, anyway. And besides…now I get to see you in action!"

…She sounded far too enthusiastic about this.

"So, kid…if a demon shows up, would you mind letting it eat you? Please and thank you~"

Uryuu Ryuunosuke smiled in delight as he watched the boy struggle desperately with the ropes tied around his small body, uttering a muffled scream of horror from behind the mouth gag the serial killer had also tied on him earlier. His big brown eyes were wide with unadulterated fear, and fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Unable to control himself at such a sight, the ginger threw his head back in an amused laugh, clutching at his sides. He was looking forward to the killing now, more than ever!

"I wonder how the demon would kill you?" he mused aloud once his laughter had subsided, tapping a finger against his chin as he grinned down at the little boy. "Would it tear at your gut and feast on your entrails first? Oh! Or would it crush your head in its claws and stuff you down whole?"

The boy gave another muffled shriek and struggled to back away from the serial killer, bumping into the couch and disturbing the corpses of his family sitting there in an unsettling parody of watching television, as if they were still alive. Like all of his recent murders, the kill had been quick and relatively clean—he needed the blood, after all, for his little…experiment.

Painted in blood on the hardwood floor was an intricate array—well, as intricate as you could get when painting with your toe, but Ryuunosuke favored himself to be an artist and thus thought it to be a wonderful display of his skill—that was clearly designed for something of the occult. He had tried speaking the incantations written in his ancestors' book, but nothing had happened so far.

"Hmm…it should have worked; I think I said everything right," the serial killer said as he looked through the musty old journal again, eyes narrowing as he scanned the words written on its yellowing pages. "'Fill, fill, fill…' Or was it 'shut?' I know I said something about breaking…The demon should have appeared by n—Ow!"

The back of his right hand felt as if flames were carving themselves into his skin, painfully etching a strange red symbol that glowed faintly in the dim light of the room cast by the television. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he stared in confusion at the thing that had appeared on his hand, dropping the weathered journal. "What…? What's this? Some sort of tatt—"

A fierce gale suddenly whipped up in the room, cutting off his words as a bright light began to emanate from the bloody array painted on the floor. Energy crackled in the air, and the room suddenly felt stifling and small…far too small. In spite of all this, Ryuunosuke couldn't help the broad grin that formed on his face as the wild wind disturbed his jacket and blew his hair back.

Something's coming…At last, a demon is coming!

The light abruptly died along with the gale, leaving smoke in their wake and revealing a figure standing in the ashen remains of the summoning array. The strong stench of urine drifted up to his nose as the little boy wet himself in pure, unadulterated fear at the sudden sight of a third being in the room with them.

"I ask of you…are you my Master?" a voice called out from the dissipating smoke, cold and flat.

Violet eyes, tinged with a deranged light, stared back at him impassively from the pale—yet pretty—face of a young girl. Uryuu Ryuunosuke had been expecting many things from the demon he had been hoping to summon, but…a normal human girl was not one of them. Her long white hair was a bit odd, along with the black headband tarnishing that snowy tundra and the blood-red scarf loosely wrapped about her neck. A strange gem shone faintly on the back of her left hand—mostly black but with a little bit of violet light near the tip of its diamond shape. She was also dressed in a monochromatic color scheme, with black and gun-metal gray as the dominant hues. The white trimmings on her outfit stood out a bit, but what really drew his gaze was the coal-black shield clasped to her left forearm. An hourglass was fixed upon the sleek surface, slowly trickling blood-red sands into the bottom half.

There was an audible 'click' as panels in the shield suddenly shifted to hide the hourglass from view. The demon-girl had noticed his gaze and had narrowed her strangely-colored eyes warily. "I am Servant Caster for this Holy Grail War. Now…who are you?"

Ryuunosuke blinked a few times, still having a little difficulty accepting that this girl was a demon. He mentally shook his head to clear his doubts and offered a broad grin, snapping to attention with his hand up in a military salute. "Hello! My name is Uryuu Ryuunosuke! My hobby is killing other people, especially women and children, and I am currently unemployed! My birthday is January 31 and my height is—"

"Then the contract is complete," the demon-girl cut him off sharply, giving her long white hair a casual flick. "Let it be known now that the Holy Grail will be mine to achieve, and not yours. If you have a problem with this arrangement, I will kill you where you stand and ensure that your body will never be discovered…I can always find a suitable replacement."

The serial killer's grin widened at her cold, murderous words. "I'm not sure what this 'Holy Grail' stuff is about, but you speak like a real demon, alright! Yup—that decides it!" He stepped aside, gesturing to the little boy trembling madly with terror on the floor, sitting in his own pool of urine. "Now…aren't you going to eat this kid?"

The demon-girl's gaze slid over to the boy and the couch with the corpses, a mere arching of a snowy eyebrow the only indication of her surprise to see him there, especially in that state. I wonder if the fact that he peed himself has affected her appetite…Was I asking for too much? Ryuunosuke mused, mentally slapping his forehead at his obvious mistake. Well, there's nothing to be done about it now…Do demons even eat kids? Maybe they prefer ones with a little more meat on them…?

"You…Do you really not seek the Holy Grail in any way, shape, or form?" she asked sharply, fixing her gaze back to him as she finally stepped out of the magical array, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. Her violet eyes danced with something that he couldn't quite place and the corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly.

"Erm…I don't know what this Holy Grail thing really is," the serial killer admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "The book got really boring at that part, but whatever. If you want it, go ahead!" His grin returned as anticipation fluttered about in his stomach. "Just make sure you kill the kid first."

Said kid immediately gave a muffled, horrified scream as the demon-girl turned to look down at him, fat tears streaming down his cheeks once more as he struggled desperately with his bonds. Her face was expressionless as she walked over, bending down on one knee before the terrified boy. Ryuunosuke's heart danced excitedly at the thought of what would happen next, hoping that this was finally the moment he'd get to see a demon in action!

"…Everyone you love is dead, hm?" the demon-girl murmured in such a sympathetic way that Ryuunosuke couldn't help but have his jaw drop in shock—was this how demons were supposed to act? "Believe me…I know the feeling."

"H—Hey, are you really—" the ginger began to ask before she cut him off with a sharp look, holding a finger before her lips as a sign for him to shut up. Feeling strangely chastised, Ryuunosuke shut his mouth and watched as the demon-girl turned back to the boy, her lips curling into a sadistic grin that he found to be far more appropriate.

"It is unfortunate that you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. My summoning is not meant to be witnessed by civilians…and the penalty for such an offense cannot be anything but death."

The boy shrieked just as the panels in her strange shield slid open, clicking and whirring as the inner mechanisms were revealed. The world seemed to hiccup around Ryuunosuke as what sounded like a thunderclap descended upon the room, quickly followed by the sounds of 15 bullet shells hitting the hardwood floor all at once, apparently appearing out of nowhere. The demon-girl had seemed to wink out of existence and was suddenly standing beside him for some reason, holding a gun in her hand with the barrel still steaming and staring impassively at—

Ryuunosuke's eyes widened in awe at the sight before him, his jaw dropping once more, but in amazement this time. The boy was riddled with bullet holes in all of his vital areas, just like Swiss cheese, and he could literally see through those holes…at least, before the boy's body fell to the floor, throwing up a spray of blood and spilling entrails and brain matter. His bonds fluttered after him, all but useless now.

Such a beautiful shade of red…

"That…was so…COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL !" Ryuunosuke crowed, throwing his head back in indescribable delight. Grinning so broadly that his face was starting to hurt, he turned to grab the demon-girl's free hand, shaking it eagerly. "Okay! I don't know about all this 'Grail' stuff, but I'll help you out in any way I can! Just show me more cool ways to kill people! Seriously, that was amazing!"

The demon-girl's lips curled into a wicked grin once more. "How fortunate I am to have a Master who is comfortable with murder…and one who does not care for the Grail, no less."

She is so awesome…! "Say…I didn't quite catch your name before. What was it again?"

The demon-girl casually threaded her fingers through her snowy hair, and slipped the gun into her strange shield as the panels slid to a close, concealing the hourglass.

"You may call me…AKEMI."

Crash!

Tohsaka Tokiomi glanced up in surprise from where he had been poring over the reports on the dining table, arching a dark eyebrow questioningly at the double doors nearby. Furrowing his brow, he stood up and entered the kitchen, only to find his Servant standing rigidly near the window, dazedly staring at the remains of the teacup on the floor and the dark pool of tea slowly seeping across the tiles. The mage frowned, irritated at the mess and hoping that whatever caused his Servant to do so was a damn good reason.

"Is something wrong…Archer?" he asked, feeling slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to humble himself before his own Servant, which he had been steeling himself for prior to the King of Heroes' supposed summoning.

Instead of the strongest Servant, I'm stuck with her…

The young girl before him ignored his question completely, fixing a deeply troubled gaze out the window and reaching up to lightly touch the red ribbons holding up the pigtails of her pink hair, a worried frown forming on her admittedly cute face.

"Homura-chan…"

The day I get to see you…
My heart is full of nothing but that wish.

Author's Note: Busou Shoujo Madoka Mafia—BEST. IDEA. EVER. Kudos to the genius behind such a kickass doujin! …Doujinshi? Fan manga? WHAT THE HELL, I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE.

…Lo and behold, a different plot bunny has been born.

And for The Bullets of My Gun, at last…we can finally move on to the future.

I forgot to note that some scenes may be a bit out of order in regards to time. Not to worry—that was intentional, for the sake of making it seem like somewhat of a collage regarding the different moments for most of the people involved within the fic…Erm, that wasn't really explained well, was it? Um…I was focusing on groundwork/what seemed more appropriate rather than chronological order, I guess.

If you don't like it…wibbly wobbly timey wimey—the perfect excuse for today, November 23.

D-mails.

D'loreans.

Dokodemo doa.

ZA WARUDO.

Ocarinas of Time.

White Chronicles.

Take your pick.

Anyway, this was intended to be finished a week or two earlier, but due to exams and projects—GOOD GODOKA, PROGRAMMING IS SUCH A PAIN—I had to put off Kirei's thing at the church (which I borrowed heavily from the F/Z light novel translation on Baka Tsuki for the sake of time) and the ending scene with that poor boy *cough* headcanon that it's Tatsuya *cough*. Unfortunately, it's still not as good as the original and I'm not happy with it because of that.

And I think I might have misused Hero Complex...Damn it.

As I mentioned before, Chapter 2: Connect is nowhere near as good as it once was (although it IS a lot longer, at 41 pages compared to the original 17-ish), but I can guarantee you this: Chapter 3 will be better. Why? Because there has been no draft of it so far and thus, should be less stressful to write than having to remember what the hell I originally wrote (such as the case with Chapter 2).

Plus…plot advancement. That always makes a chapter better, especially since AKEMI's summoning was no longer a surprise by the time people made it this far.

Such a shame. Perhaps in another world line, I might've been able to hold out a little longer and endure the Flames…

I'm hoping I can do that for this one, especially in the wake of that "What if?" I presented a month ago…

(EDIT 11-26-2013: To the author of The Goddess of Hope - you must be a mind-reader. Or you must have some ability like Oriko or something, because that parting remark in your Author's Note with Kiritsugu vs. Homura...Damn it. Well, technically it won't be the exact same, but even so...

Damnation, I take too much time with my stuff. I've laid the groundwork for something like that, but the actual fight won't happen until the endgame.

I haven't stolen your idea or anything. I suppose it's simply a natural progression once you have the two meet.

Also, to everyone reading this part, AKEMI is not her, though she was sort of intended to be something like her prior to...y'know, the premiere. The white hair and outfit changes are due to the strain from repeating 1,000,001 times. )

I can't wait to type up Chapter ?: Nocte of Desperatio, though. That's probably the only chapter I'd really want to write, along with Nux (Nox?) Walpurgis...

And after watching that latest Rebellion Story trailer…I need to haul ass and get to writing more of this story. I have a feeling that something terrible will happen to Homura in the movie—something that will somewhat involve the plans I have for AKEMI, which NEED to be written. As soon as possible. For it seems that I won'thave to alter my plans too much, based on the one image I've seen so far and its spoiler tag…

For those of you who were fortunate/unfortunate enough to read my spoiler from months ago, I believe you know what I'm talking about. I plan for that portion to be in Nocte of Desperatio.

Damn it, Urobuchi! I had the idea first! (Well, no…not really.)

My friend and I replayed that video like, 50 times, and with each repetition—pun not intended—more and more WTFs could be heard. There was also much speculah to be had, and much referencing to the original series, ultimately resulting into a theory resembling Homura doing a Persona and being unable to control it due to Homulilly being so damn powerful from all of the repetitions, which is why she looks as if she's turned evil…? Not sure where the Nightmare factors in, why Madoka and Sayaka are back, and why the hell Charlotte is there, though…Inception-esque stuff, maybe? Maybe Hitomi creates the world of the dream, or something, and Homura ends up filling it with her subconscious?

…Which is a dangerous subconscious indeed, considering all the shit she's seen those past 8 years.

I do believe we annoyed several people in the school's dining area with all of the debating and Homura in the video screaming "Madoka!" each time we replayed it…and there was also someone who was just starting to watch Madoka Magica sitting nearby.

…Oops. Our bad.

Turns out Mami was her favorite character so far, too. Poor thing hadn't reached episode 3 yet…

And we had mentioned Charlotte and her decapitation of a certain Puella Magi.

…

Moving on!

Unfortunately, I don't want to rush things with this story either, just so I can get to the parts I've been wanting to write since the moment this fanfic started. I most likely can't get to that part in ACT II before December… :/ I soooooooooooooo want to strangle you for being so damn lazy, Past Self. At least my winter break is coming up next week and finals are almost over; in my dread/excitement for the third movie, hopefully my work ethic will improve.

Hopefully.

I mean, there IS a reason why I chose "Wandering Quill" as my username…

But even as a wanderer, I'm kind of glad that I got to churn out this chapter in roughly a month's time. I'm hoping to do the same for Chapter 3, but I fear Rebellion Story is just going to leave me in a dazed state for a while, reevaluating everything I've known…again.

Also, if someone can find the English translations for "Manten", "To the Beginning", "Sora wa Takaku Kaze wa Utau" and "Memoria", that would be really helpful—so far, I've only been using lyrics from "Connect" and "Hikari Furu", but I want to incorporate things from both sides of the crossover.

Anyway, review if you'd like—just keep them civil and no flaming. (For those of you who are keeping an eye on Down to Zero We Go, expect somewhat of a surprise soon as a sort of 'Thank you' for clicking it. Although…I feel that some of you will be disappointed with what you'll find, but feedback for how I write fighting scenes would be nice, so long as they are civil and not flames. This will help placate your peers later.)

Also, don't forget—you can leave at any time. You don't have to read this fic.

Something to remember for later.

Seriously.

Just think of this whole journey thus far as a bad dream.

…Choose something else.

My word count and writing doesn't matter—you will be severely disappointed at my organizational failures and woeful inability to understand the Nasuverse well enough.

(insert 'next episode' music from Fate/Zero)

WILL KYOUKO EVER GET INTO THE THRONE OF HEROES?!

"Outta the way! Heroic Spirit coming through!" Kyouko announced smugly, pushing her way through the line and sending more than a few glares in her direction. A woman in black was already mixing multi-colored liquids together—poison, probably—and a redheaded man in a green robe was furiously flipping through the massive tome in his hands.

She marched right up to the bouncer, giving her signature fang-toothed grin as she slung her trusty spear across her shoulders. "'sup? Sakura Kyouko, Heroic Spirit. Now if you'll just move over—"

"Sorry, but you're not on The List," the bouncer gruffly declared, scanning through his clipboard and blocking her way. She could hear the sounds of partying just beyond the gate, and infectious music playing. Goddamnit, why?!

"What the hell did you say?!"

"'Sakura Kyouko.' Is not. On The List."

"How can I not be on your damn list after all the shit I did?!" Kyouko shouted, angrily waving her spear at him. "I'm here, aren't I?! That's gotta count for somethin'!"

"Hmm…could be a glitch; I'd have to ask Mr. Mainyu. We are expecting a...'Sayaka Miki,' however."

"What the fucking hell?! Hero Complex gets to be in the Throne and not me?!"

WHAT IS UP WITH INTERNET EXPLORER-TAN?!

"These Macs are starting to get more troublesome, Kyubey," Inori groaned as she surveyed the destruction her latest battle had caused. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this."

"It must be tough, having Chrome-tan, Firefox-tan and Safari-tan fighting against you in addition to the Macs," the adorable creature said, waving his bushy tail back and forth. "But as a Windows Girl, you can do it…Internet Explorer-tan!"

Inori sniffed, wiping away the tears that sprung to her eyes at his faith in her. "You really think so, Kyubey?"

"Of course! You try your best and work hard to help everyone, even if you're still terrible at it! With that level of determination, something's bound to happen, right?"

"…"

"…"

Meanwhile, in Puella Magi Valhalla…

"Poor Inori-chan…she tries so hard…Even if you can't hear Me, do your best!"

"Do you say that line to everyone now…?"

"Hm? What do you mean, Homura-chan?"

"…! N—Nevermind, I didn't say anything…"

"Homura-chaaaaaaaan…tell Me!"

"No."

"You're so cold, Homura-chan…Even after I entered the Grail War just for you…"

"—!"

WHY DOES THE TITLE FOR CHAPTER 3 IMPLY THAT IT WILL BE A HEARTWARMING CHAPTER BECAUSE OF THE MUSIC WHEN IT ACTUALLY WON'T?!

Because I'm using it in a somewhat literal sense.

Deal with it.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME, IN…

Chapter 3: Taenia Memoriae
(Ribbon of Memories)

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

HOPE IS OVER
THE WAIT IS ETERNAL

／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼