It had been the same unchanging landscape until a moment ago:

The water that never soaked him, no matter how far in he waded; the birds passing overhead that he could never kill, regardless of how near they flew; the rocks that never burned his skin, despite the fact that it was always high noon. Everything painted with the same dull brush, as though it was an old memory only half-remembered, and with considerable difficulty at that.

He missed the moon something dreadful.

He'd long since decided that he would happily forgo a late night cup of tea or sake or anything else that typically accompanied moon-viewing, if he could just be under the night sky one more time. A pointless wish, really, as all wishes were.

Still, he found it difficult to reconcile himself with this mindscape. Other Heroic Spirits, he had heard, relived their worst moments over and over again, in relentless repetition; and, on several occasions, he had caught himself thinking that even such a fate would be preferable to this. At least there was a certain substance to pain. Here, there was only an endless promise of emptiness, where nothing could be touched and nothing could be felt. Where nothing was real. Fitting for a false Servant such as himself, of course, but cruel nonetheless.

Whoever created the Throne of Heroes took great pleasure in watching all of them suffer.

He had been lost in his thoughts, one foot idly – and fruitlessly – tracing patterns on the weightless sand, when he was set upon by the unpleasant sensation of being grasped by something he couldn't see. It was followed by a sudden involuntary lurching forward of his body that was sent splashing through the melting, spinning scenery around him. Being called forth from the Throne was never a particularly enjoyable process to be sure, but this was different; the wild, white pain that shot through his limbs and burned under his skin and made him feel that his very mind was being cut in half was certainly new.

A single thought flitted across his consciousness – it couldn't have been too long since the Fifth Grail War; surely it was too soon for another – before the pain proved to be too much for the swordsman, and he succumbed to the blackness encroaching on his vision.

The next thing he knew was the feeling of cold, hard ground under his back.

Kojirō Sasaki cracked an eye open.

Stars twinkled down at him from where they were perched behind clouds in a deep blue sky, and a gentle breeze ran over his face, stirring wisps of his purple hair.

Well, that is something. He let out a small, slightly bitter chuckle that quickly turned into a cough. His insides were still spinning and threatening to find a way out of his body, and the pounding headache was not helping matters. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he forced his body to relax. Perhaps wishes do come true after all.

Slowly, Kojirō opened his eyes again and took in as much of his surroundings as he could from where he lay prone, without moving too much.

This didn't look like a summoning.

No, he reprimanded himself. Of course it isn't.

Other than an unorthodox ritual like that vixen's, who in their right mind would want to summon him? Or even could? The very idea was ridiculous. Perhaps he had hit his head too hard when arriving here. Now, where was "here?"

Not that he was complaining. Anywhere was better than in that forlorn, forgotten space.

Lavender eyes blinked rapidly as the pain started subsiding and more of the world came into focus.

A dark protrusion of some sort was hiding half the stars from sight over to his left. The unintelligible mass eventually took recognizable form once his eyes fully adjusted to the complete lack of light, save for the moon: a large stone structure, with some tiles at its top.

Kojirō squinted.

It almost looked like a gate. More specifically, a temple gate. A very familiar temple gate, in fact.

"What?!" He shot up to his feet in an uncharacteristic display of agitation, a decision he immediately regretted.

He doubled over, his long hair falling in his face, one hand covering his mouth and the other clutching his middle. After a few moments of firmly pushing back the nausea, Kojirō looked up again in complete confusion and disbelief.

This was a joke. It had to be a joke, and a very poor one at that. His eyes darted all around the area and, finding no one and nothing there, returned to the offensive structure.

The samurai clenched his jaw. This damn gate.

He wished to retract his previous statement – even his mindscape was preferable to this place. If only he could stand properly, he had half a mind to take a swing at the thing with his sword.

But how had he ended up here, again, in the first place? Why? Had someone summoned him, after all, and if so where were they?

Too many questions, and he had very little capacity for thinking at the moment. He shut his eyes and growled in frustration. What the hell is going on?!

He must have been in the worst physical condition of his entire posthumous career, because he barely heard the light touch of sandals on the paved stone before a female voice spoke – somewhat hesitantly – from within the temple grounds. "Need some help?"

Blair threw the last basket of clean laundry into the storeroom with fervor.

With one hand, she wiped away a few stray strands of uncooperative red hair from her forehead. Normally, she could keep her curls under control – other Scottish women were cursed with far, far worse – but the humidity was causing them to act up.

"Who knew Japan could get this hot in the summer?" she complained to the empty room, glaring at the piles of clothes that would need folding come the morning. "This was most definitely not what I meant when I told Master V that I needed an assignment."

Lord El-Melloi II, also known as Waver Velvet and affectionately termed 'Master V' by his closest students, had decided to return to Fuyuki City with Rin Tohsaka several months ago to dismantle the Greater Grail and put an end, once and for all, to the long-standing insanity of the Holy Grail Wars. And somehow, between her own whining about the useless dean of her department, her talent in magecraft, and the fact that she was still in need of a thesis project in Summoning in order to graduate her final year at the Clock Tower, Master V had whisked her away as an 'assistant.'

Of course, there had been those within the Mage's Association that had wanted to retrieve the Greater Grail instead of destroying it. The situation in Fuyuki had spiraled out of hand (as all such ventures, no doubt, were wont to do), and Blair had found herself caught up in a conflict that rivaled the scale of a Grail War, according to Shirō Emiya. After the dust had settled – exposing city-wide rubble and debris and a significant body count – the Grail had been disassembled after all. She wasn't sure how much help she had been during the actual conflict, but she had certainly done more than her fair share with cleanup.

No one had really stopped to think what would happen once the Grail was destroyed, at least as far as Heroic Spirits were concerned. To everyone's utter delight, it turned out that the Grail's disappearance caused a disturbance on the spiritual side of things substantial enough for Servants to be spat out of the sky every so often.

Master V, naturally, had run back to London as soon as his agreed-upon part was done, and had left her with a note saying she was to stay behind and assist the local mages with managing the newly-arrived Heroic Spirits.

Thinking about it made her grit her teeth – just because she was the top student in the Department of Summoning, didn't mean she knew everything there was to know about Servants of the Holy Grail Wars. She'd never even met a Servant; the last War had been ten whole years ago, when she had still been a skinned-kneed brat giving her nanny the run across the smog-laden city, dreaming of the highlands she'd never seen. She had absolutely no practical experience, so how could he possibly expect her to handle this situation on her own?

At least he had left her with a translation charm.

She rubbed the paper sigil that was stuck to her arm absentmindedly. Honestly, she didn't even speak the language! What was he thinking?!

I know he hates Japan, but really! Blair fumed, leaving the storehouse and closing the door behind her.

The mages here didn't need her help.

Several Heroic Spirits had dropped into their laps, yes, but they had been fairly easy to handle. So, here she was, pretending to be a college-level intern with an interest in Japanese religion, paying for her room and board at Ryūdō Temple by doing chores and assisting in the rebuilding of the structure.

She slowed her steps to look at the most recent part of the construction.

The repairs had moved along surprisingly fast since the end of spring when she had begun her tenure here, but they were nowhere close to finished. Blair could only imagine the force of the blast that tore this place apart.

The young woman sighed, patting her hair down again and finally registering just how sweat-soaked her shirt was. This heat was really unbearable.

She was deliberating between bathing, for the second time that day, or just saying to hell with it and hitting the sack, when she heard a loud noise coming from the main gate of the temple.

Her insatiable curiosity getting the better of her, she ran over to see what the racket was.

Cautiously peeking from behind a stone wall, Blair saw what appeared to be a purple-haired samurai stumbling around, looking like he was going to hurl. Even going off of purely his physical appearance and manner of dress, she quickly surmised that he was a Heroic Spirit.

She puffed her cheeks and blew a strand of hair out of her face. It didn't look like sleep would be forthcoming anytime soon. Blair closed her eyes, allowed one last lamentation for her loss of rest, and stepped out in the open.

"Need some help?" she asked carefully. Most of the displaced Servants that the mages had come across had been extremely confused upon regaining consciousness, though ultimately rather amiable.

His face turned towards her, and she noted his thin eyebrows were drawn together in pain.

"Who are you?" he asked with some difficulty.

"I'm one of the mages stationed in Fuyuki City, here to assist with the management of Servants cast out from the Throne of Heroes, like yourself." She kept her explanation short and to the point. "You are a Heroic Spirit, correct?"

"Cast out?" He completely ignored her question. "Why would the Grail – "

She spoke before he could finish. "The Greater Grail has been destroyed."

"Ah." He tried to nod, but his movements were abrupt and disjointed. "Yes, that would do it."

Blair had prepared herself to launch into a detailed account for when he demanded a proper explanation, but it never came. Whoever he was, he seemed to be satisfied with the meager information she had fed him, and showed no intention of questioning her further.

She found his easy acceptance of the situation more than a little strange. Was he feeling that unwell?

"If you'd follow me inside," she said as beckoned him with one hand, "you can get cleaned up and I will fetch you some fresh clothes."

"I would like nothing better." He carefully lowered himself to sit on the first step of the temple's impossibly long staircase and turned to look up at her. "Unfortunately, I cannot."

"Are you injured?" She quickly ran her eyes over him. The samurai had clearly been suffering from nausea, like all the other Servants they had found, but she hadn't noticed any blood or broken bones.

He gave her a bitter smile. "I am bound to this gate. I am not a proper Heroic Spirit; more like a wraith, if anything. When I was last summoned by Caster, this gate was used as my physical anchor to this world, and it seems that it remains so. Thus, I cannot leave this gate; though the wretched woman did permit me to go up and down the stairs. I suppose I should be grateful to her for her exceeding generosity."

"Oh." Blair blinked. He spoke a lot for someone who was in such apparent and extreme discomfort. And that had not been on the list of answers she had been expecting. Not even close. "That… does make things a little troublesome; at least people without magecraft abilities have been unable to see the materialized Servants so far, so your presence here shouldn't be a problem." Tapping on her chin and nodding to herself, she made up her mind. "Hang tight a minute, I'll be right back out with some things for you."

Making a mental catalogue of items to haul outdoors within the next few minutes, Blair's footsteps started taking her towards the main part of the building.

Food, water, tea, she ticked them off her fingers. Some painkillers; a bowl of water and towel to wash up with; a fresh set of clothes – or, would hakama be more comfortable for him? Do we even have any around? He might just have to settle for a t-shirt and pants. A changing screen, what else? Hairbrush?

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she barely heard his soft voice drifting behind her on the night air.

"Take your time," the long-haired samurai said, face turned up to the moon. "It is not as though I will be going anywhere."

A/N: Gah, it's been over a year since I published anything *hides face in shame.* Trying to get back into the swing of things by starting small, let me know what you think!