Fate/Stay Night and its spin offs are properties of Type-Moon, Nitroplus, and Image Epoch. All additional references belong to their respective companies.

Interlude - Leave It To Shirou

Taiga had assumed that the appliances Fran had left behind were sort of like random mascot companions from a Disney movie, but as she had to put up with them more, she realized that their 'personalities' were far less happy lucky joy magic, and more akin to First World Appliances With First World Problems.

"Hey, hey, don't ignore me!"

"Mumumu."

"Have you gorged yourself retarded?! Speak normally!"

"Your tears make this electricity taste sweeter..."

"That's it, fucker, you're dead!"

Taiga burst into her bedroom. Never before had she thought she'd grow up and have to break up a fight between appliances, but here she was doing that. Also she hoped that today wasn't the day she'd lose a finger.

"Hey, stop that!" She said. "You're wasting good staples!"

An electric stapler was beating its head onto an aggressively hedonistic waffle maker, spitting bent and busted staples all over the place.

"Hey! My grandpa's money doesn't grow on trees. The mayor can only bribe us so many times a month! Stop wasting it right now, you two!" Taiga tried to verbally butt in, but was ignored by the two.

Of course.

"More! More! Rub your rage all over me!" The waffle iron guffawed, lazily opening and shutting its grills as its cord sinously whipped around as it dug itself in deeper into the outlet. "It just makes this more delicious!"

"I'll rip your heating coil out!" The stapler howled. "I swear to Staplex I will, you bastard!"

Okay, Taiga thought, it was time to do or die.

The young lady forced her hands between a raging stapler and a waffle iron that was probably heating up for inappropriately lewd reasons, and shoved them apart with a shout.

"Stop ignoring me!" She howled, asserting her will as alpha of the home.

"You're just taking the wafflemaker's side because you've been pigging off Master's food just as much, you shameless cow!"

"Ah, you've come to join me in lapping off the teat of rage, my fellow glutton!" The waffle iron boldly laughed. "Come, let us laugh and grow fat together, my sister! Master can then pay attention to you once we correct your deficient curves!"

But Taiga would always be omega when it came to the magical bullshit her little Shirou had dragged into her life.

The stapler rattled in place. Electricity crackled along its frame. Plastic warped and metal twisted as it exposed a set of staple-like fangs.

"Master is mine!" The stapler snapped.

"Ah, hell." Taiga and waffle iron said together.

Taiga scratched her cheek with her now bandaged hand, and ignored the large twined set of holes in the wall behind her. Below the holes lied a metal staple about the size of Taiga's head. That also was ignored.

If Shirou was around, he would probably say it was something about magical bullshit, like how staplers were around for hundred of years and could channel more magical power.

Then she would noogie him for being a nerd that knew about such things.

Above, dangling from an plastic wrap, swung a slightly dented stapler and waffle iron, both beaten unconscious by Taiga. The young lady kept filling out applications despite the aches on her wrapped up fists. She set down a request to transfer Shirou to another school, and then picked up another.

"Expertly handled, Miss Fujimura."

Taiga closed her eyes; oh, that was right, Franny had moved the lamp to her room. "You're the oldest here, so you need the light more than we do, Taiga!" She had said, while Shirou had desperately tried to cut her off. Taiga idly wondered if a rug would be enough to hide the new indentation on the floor. Would that be too obvious? Maybe.

She hoped Franny tripped on that rug and got stuck horn first on the floor.

Right, she had a high watt bulb bearing down on her like the face of God.

"Yes, Sebastian?" Taiga opened her eyes and addressed the lamp, holding up her hands to shield herself from the light tightly focused on her face. "How can I help you?"

"You know, in some years, you'll look into a mirror and see premature crow's feet, and wonder to yourself, "Why didn't I listen to Sebastian when he suggested that I turn in early?'" The lamp swayed from side to side as it made a less than subtle suggestion.

Taiga put her head in her hands, tugging at her hair.

"This is my life now," she said. "Policing unsophisticated thugs that squat in my own home."

"I'm certain that legitimate businessmen like your grandfather's associates are a good deal less civilized." Sebastian tried to assure her, but it was hard to take a freaking lamp seriously.

"I moved out of grandpa's place precisely for this reason, you know?" She shook her head. "How is a young lady able to move on with her life when they have to wake up to go bail out a little brother out of jail at three AM on the night before a test? Or they can't even make normal friends because ex-cons are lingering around the fridge and scaring their study partners away from the building when they went to get a can of soda. Do you know what it feels like to find out after the fact that your match at a national kendo competition was tampered with before the fact, because somebody 'had words' with your opponent?"

The lamp leaned over and tapped her on the forehead.

Taiga looked up hopefully.

"I have no clue what you're saying, Miss Fujimura."

Taiga's face fell.

"You know what?" she asked. "Nevermind."

"Just let me finish this thing, and I'll get to sleep."

A bit reluctantly, Sebastian twisted, directing a beam of light to the surface of her desk.

"Let's see now ..." said Taiga.

Kirei may've been a good man, but his taste in basement decoration made him look like a real creep.

"What's wrong?" Misaya smiled at Shirou's expression, "They're empty husks, nothing to worry about."

Berserker took a hold of one of the mummies in one of the alcoves they had passed and nudged it in Shirou's direction.

"You humans weren't engineered very well." She said, clicking her tongue. "I died a long time ago, and I'm still up and at it!"

"Ugh, do you have to do that?" Shirou wondered, making Berserker's face fall.

"I was just trying to show you that I could protect you..." Berserker dug her heel into the ground, cracking it.

"Hey, don't show the dead disrespect, kids." Misaya said, holding her arms out to block the other two's faces. "Neither of Shirou or I will look as good as these heroes when we its our turn to go into the cold ground."

Berserker looked up, deeply frowning at the alchemist.

"Speak for yourself." The heroine barked. "Master is staying with me."

Berserker perked up, looking over at Shirou searchingly as an idea came to mind.

"Don't worry Master! Once your parts are in need of replacement, I'll dismantle you properly and store your core processor in a glass jar until I have your chassis constructed! You won't need to lie down in a dark, dank cave like this devil!"

Misaya blinked, taking in her new nickname. A mean, and paradoxically pleased look appeared on Misaya's face before she covered her growing smile with her hand. She leaned towards Shirou, who was already starting to regret the way the conversation was going.

"Isn't that nice, boy? I'll make sure to shake some vitamin powder into your jar when you're gone, okay? This devil and the monster bride will take reallll good care of you when you're dead, right?"

He very deliberately picked up his pace, walking past both women and clearing his throat.

"So, what was that about heroes?" Shirou nervously asked. "Are they like Fran or something?"

Misaya smirked, but let it go.

"Ah, no, Kirei said this is where the resting place of the Cryptochristians from back in Fuyuki's heyday. Or maybe the Edo period's heyday? Eh, whatever. They set up all these tunnels while fighting for their right to believe in what they wanted to believe. Then they chose to be buried down here after their long fights were over." The alchemist explained, lightly bouncing on her heels as she caught up with Shirou. She leaned towards him a bit, almost but not quite touching him as she pointing off towards another tunnel. "Turn left here, loverboy."

Berserker scowled, hitching up her dress as she dashed up to them, and squeezed herself between the two humans.

"S-so, why are you humans down here, then?" Berserker demanded. "Isn't spelunking amongst the dead in poor taste?"

"Normally, yes." Misaya fired back. "Unless your name is Shirou Emiya, I suppose."

Berserker ducked her head, making her hair hide her widening eyes.

"W-well, I wouldn't mind, you know?" She twiddled her fingers. "That and this are t-two different things!"

Both humans looked past Berserker's flailing head as she fidgeted between them, sharing a mutual look of understanding.

'You better not break her heart, you bastard.'

Misaya's eyes flashed dire warnings at Shirou as a fellow woman.

'Believe me, she'd break me sooner than you could if I ever did that.'

An air of resignation dragged Shirou's shoulders downwards.

Kirei Kotomine's mullet was as lovingly styled in death as it had been in life.

"Hey, loverboy, you know the way from here, right?" Misaya had eyes only for Kirei as she waved Shirou away. "Go kick that little pipsqueak or something for me, okay?"

Shirou took a few steps away from the coffin that was resting underneath a warm spotlight. The light warmed the flesh of the deceased and made it look like life still flowed. It was a heart moving sight, and it forced him to address Misaya despite how little he actually knew either.

He didn't care if it'd make him sound bad; he had to make himself clear.

"Thank you." He surprised Misaya, who looked like she had already expected Shirou to walk away. "Both of you."

Misaya's eyes lowered a little, and she placed a hand on the coffin.

"Yeah." She mumbled. "He would've smirked like an asshole if he heard that."

Misaya reached up to pat the priest on the cheek.

Shirou ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, but his words weren't on the tip of his tongue.

"Sorry..." He mumbled.

He started walking away from Misaya, heading down the east tunnel.

Shirou tried to keep his gaze steady, but it kept drifting. Bodies of alchemists were interred in this part of the tunnel. Is that why Kirei had been taken down here? He had been too cowardly to ask.

They might have been trying to follow the footsteps of the Cryptochristians that had come before, being buried together.

The boy ambled over towards one of the bodies, brushing the alchemist's outfit. It wasn't exactly something one traditionally wore when they were buried, nor was it a uniform like Kirei or the one the alchemists were wearing. The corpse was dressed in a plaid buttoned up shirt and a set of jeans that had more than their fair share of creases.

A tacky looking mascot, a lumpy dog, was dangling off the belt loops of the jeans.

It looked natural there.

"I wonder who you were?" He asked.

Shirou thought someone close to the man must have dressed him up like this; his hand fell down to his side and his insides began to squirm with the inklings of nausea. The boy wasn't ever going to be able to ask him about that lumpy dog. It looked cute, in a gross sort of way, and he thought Taiga probably would have loved to know where to get one of her own.

Did he die that night?

Shirou looked around, seeing more bodies in their alcoves as well.

Did they all die that night too? He edged towards the center of the hallway, away from the bodies and the choking sense of sentimentality that wrapped them all. With the spell broken, Shirou finally noticed someone was missing, and turned back in the direction he had left Misaya.

"Did she stay behind?" He mumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Well, might be for the best."

He was glad she didn't have to see him right now.

Misaya heard Berserker go down to her knees behind her. It was hard to ignore metal scraping against stone. Still, she chose to keep looking at Kirei instead of humoring the other woman.

'Look at you, going and breaking your promises to stay with me.' She thought. 'Tell everyone that I miss them, okay? I hope you'll finally get to be happy up there.'

Misaya let her mind drift to a pleasant fog of obliviousness for a few minutes.

"What are you doing?" Misaya quietly asked, finally turning. "He's going to leave you behind...?"

The alchemist's words drifted into a question when she saw the heroic spirit.

Berserker was doing the sign of the cross with her head bowed. Surprisingly, she was sweeping her hands through the latin rite, from head to chest then left shoulder and right. She finished up by kissing her thumb and forefingers with reverence.

Misaya began to smile.

"O Father on Earth who has granted me life..." Berserk began. "Please bless Mister Kotomine for saving Master..."

The smile went crooked.

"Oi, what the heck are you doing?" Misaya complained. "You're supposed to say 'O Father in Heaven'..."

"But my Father is down here, all of you saw him a few weeks ago."

"Kid," Misaya sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Who exactly do you pray to?"

Berserker thought about it, giving her a suspicious look.

Misaya didn't think it was such a difficult question.

"Father..." Berserk stared at her flatly.

"Well, yeah, but which one?" Misaya kept a hand on her hip, gesturing at her. "The one that made you? Or the Father that made the world?"

Berserker scratched the tip of her nose while thumping her fingers against her lips.

"That's a tough question to ask, miss." Berserker solemnly said. "How do I know the world didn't appear with a poof when Father made me?"

"Don't pull that philosophical bullshit on me, bucket head." Misaya fumed, ears going red. "Or I swear to God-"

"Father told me that ladies don't swear." Berserker chided with a wag of the finger.

"Argh!" Misaya threw her arms up, giving up with the whole affair.

The alchemist stopped speaking and looked away from the prone Heroic Spirit. Shirou's silhoutte could be seen in the corner of the hall, looking over them with a lost expression. Well, she guessed it was a lost expression. She squinted at his direction. Had he overheard them speaking about Kirei?

The boy caught her stare, shifting in place like he didn't know how to act. She was a pretty cynical girl, but even she didn't think he was enough of an airhead to forget her directions. He looked a little fidgety.

"And?" Berserker asked lightly, looking up at Misaya. "What should I say?"

The alchemist stepped in close, blocking the Heroic Spirit's line of sight. Misaya wasn't feeling like putting up with their antics right now. She waved sharply, shooing him.

'These kids are so maudlin.' She thought, 'I'll have to hammer it out of them if we're going to take down Victor Frankenstein.'

At some point in the past, this had been a secret meeting room; a legacy left behind from the times when being a Christian was punishable by death. The ones who wished to continue their worship did so in places like this, hidden deep underground, or in mountains.

Shirou walked through the divide. Choir seats carved out of the stone walls extended out before him. The boy felt it was wrong to sit on them, so he carried a half empty supply box.

A singular hole had been bored into the roof, allowing light shining down on the only occupant of the room.

"Matou," Shirou called out to the girl dangling in mid-air by strings of etherlite. "I'm here."

Sakura was in the middle of a oblong shaped barrier that shone with honey comb patterns. The barrier itself seemed to be projected from all the corners of the room at once. Strange symbols swarmed in front of his eyes the longer he stared at it, hieroglyphics and unreadable text assailing his senses. He was reminded of laser projections, sort of like the memorial lightshow they put on the Shinto Station several years ago - there weren't any projectors here, though.

Instead, his grasp of the magical manifested through his five senses. Shirou could taste a hint of copper in the back of his throat and feel warmth beneath the skin of his face. He smelled a repugnant scent that reminded him of industrial wastes, like the smogs of the big city. A tickling sensation beat at his insides, making him imagine a desert storm whipping around his guts. The lights danced of the barrier, and he could swear he could see impressions of images popping out like bad 3d-movie visions at him, undescribable text and nonsensical iconography rolling around the sphere.

Ultimately, it wasn't a good feeling to be this close to Sakura, for reasons both physiological and psychological.

Still, he had a reason to be here, and so he would come back over and over again.

Shirou set down his load a foot away from the barrier, wiped some sweat off his brow, and took a heavy seat while the girl stirred.

Sakura's eyes fluttered open, and her purple eyes met his auburn ones.

"It's you again." She hummed, testing her bonds and finding her limbs were still splayed apart. "I guess I'm not dead yet."

She closed her eyes.

Shirou's cheek twitched a bit.

"Please, try to be less enthusiastic." He said, gripping the sides of his box. "I'm not sure I can keep up with you, at this rate."

"Why are you bothering me today?" Sakura asked. "Are you going to say something new today?"

"Where's Shinji, Matou?" He came out with it bluntly. "It's been weeks now."

Sakura nodded, accepting that they were going to go through the same old conversation.

"If I haven't said anything yet, why would I it today?" Sakura reasonably asked. She noted Shirou was balling his fist at his side. Well, that was a new reaction.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"Why are you even under the impression that I even know?" She decided to go through with it.

Shirou's brow furrowed, catching something strange in her tone.

"Look, just tell me where the hell Shinji is; I'm not asking for much." Shirou tried.

"Yeah, so you can make him drink your damn cult's kool-aid?" Sakura spat fire back at him. "I'm never going to let him be fooled into your little suicide pact again!"

"I'd never do that!" Shirou leaned back, eyes wide. "What are you even talking about? Suicide pacts? What?!"

Sakura sneered at him.

"What else do you call it? You were tricking my brother into giving up our family's magecraft. Why didn't you just put a pistol in his mouth and fire? It'd be about the same."

Sakura's face twisted the longer she spoke.

"I never would have done that!" Shirou slapped his thighs.

The girl twisted in her binds, bouncing in place.

"Why should I trust you?!" She shouted. "What kind of a magus are you? Is this some cruel trick? My grandfather would've killed him for even sharing that pitiful amount!"

Shirou blew out a hot puff of air through his nostrils. He rose to his feet, sent the crate skidding across the floor with a kick, and marched up to the barrier with flashing eyes.

He stepped across the barrier.

The empty catacomb warped at the edges of his vision the closer to Sakura he drew. A wide field of greenery and flowers bloomed below his feet, sparkles dancing about his vision. Stereotypically nice looking clouds poofed above his head with cringely cute sound effects, like a cork popping off a bottle but several octaves higher.

A small army of cherub angels and dancing humanoid jackals were hand in hand as they did a can can around Sakura.

He hopped over a chubby baby with wings.

"Let me show you," He grabbed his sleeve. "What kind of a magus I am!"

Shirou yanked his sleeve hard enough to rip it and a little bit of his shirt off his body. The cherubs let out alarmed squeaks, flying away to hide beneath the flowers, digging their heads into the grass. Their Egyptian counterparts crossed their arms, looking distinctly unimpressed with Shirou.

"What are you doing?!" Sakura shrieked, thrashing as she panicked.

Shirou practically held his arms up against her face, thrumming with enough magical energy that she could feel it at this distance.

"I've got no crest." He insisted. "I was never a magus in the first place, you idiot!"

Sakura shook her head. She wanted to deny him; desperately so. Magic crests should have appeared with the amount of magic coursing through him. She squeaked a low keening sort of noise before she could compose herself.

"I'm a magic user, a spellcaster, and I never had any intention to steal anything." He continued, powering onwards steadily through her verbal defenses. "Shinji told me his family's magecraft was long dead, that no one in his family had practiced it since his uncle died."

Sakura clawed at the point Shirou made, like a drowning person at a life ring.

"Magecraft brought nothing but pain to Uncle Kariya." Pity colored her thoughts while she remembered his body sinking beneath the swarms of flesh eating maggots. "You were leading Shinji down the same path."

"That's..." Shirou staggered back a step. "I didn't mean to do that!"

Sakura's shook herself out of her memories; She looked down at Shirou, making a note of the way he was clutching himself. What sort of reaction was that? Was she being made fun of even now? Spellcasters had to harden their hearts.

Surprisingly, Shirou himself spoke up before she could make a biting retort.

"If life were that convenient, we wouldn't need the police." Shirou mumbled, speaking into his chest. "Was it really that hard to believe that we were just friends?"

"Yes." Sakura grew startled by the declaration, but steeled herself. She cleared her throat. "That's right. Shinji was the heir apparent of a dead magus household. Anyone could have charmed my big brother. So I went ahead and protected him, I destroyed your workshop, and would've taken back our secrets by... killing you."

Her gaze wavered.

"Then your group jumped me."

"No." He rubbed at his cheek. "I wasn't part of that."

"Huh?"

"You're really overestimating me," Shirou said, feeling his legs grow heavier by the second. "They were chasing me that night too."

"Don't you lie to me," Sakura grunted, feeling like the other shoe was about to fall. "You showed up and fought me!"

"They asked for my help," Shirou sighed, sitting down in front of the younger girl. He looked up at her, bound up like a museum exhibit. How old was she, anyway? Thirteen, at most? She should be in school right now. "Nothing matches up to a Heroic Spirit except another one."

Shinji should be in school right now too. Ayaka and Manaka had vanished to who-knows-where. Not even the alchemists could find a trace. And he couldn't do anything to fix it.

"That..." Sakura opened her mouth, and closed it, repeating the process one more time as her words failed her. "Grandfather Zouken is known in the city! Why would they want to restrain me?!"

"They work for the Church."

"I was just doing what a magus is meant to do!"

"You probably did." He agreed. "But mistakes were made."

"I left traces behind at your workshop..."

Shirou sadly nodded.

"So did I." He stood up. "We revealed too much."

Sakura's fingers twitched, digging her nails deeper and deeper into the palm of her hands.

"I killed them." Sakura muttered. The girl knew her gut feeling had been right. What made it worse was that her own actions had caused things to go so wrong. "The mediators of the Church, they're dead because of me..."

"Matou," Shirou tried to call out to her, not liking the pale cast to her skin. "We should..."

"Shut up." Sakura slumped in her bonds. "I don't need your sympathy."

Shirou closed his eyes. Of course, that made sense. Here was someone else that suffered for his short sightedness too.

"Shinji..." He tried one last time.

"That's the only thing I have left. For some reason, that's the only question I get asked, and it's from you. I think it's the only thing of value you people have put on me." Sakura sighed. "Or maybe I'm just giving myself all this importance. Either way, I'm not saying anything to you or them. I'm not going to let you people drag him into this."

"I hurt a lot of people that night. Grandfather isn't around all the time. I'm not going to risk getting him involved in someone's revenge."

"But...!" Shirou hopped forwards.

"We're done." She let her body slack, putting all her weight on her tied up limbs. "Goodbye, Emiya."

Shirou helplessly glanced at the girl. Finally, he nodded and started walking away from the girl. Misaya's gaudy field gave way to the normal catacombs as soon he walked past the barrier's limit. He looked back at Sakura once he was at the exit of the room.

She looked miserable hanging there.

He couldn't see past the superhuman she had become during that bloody night.

"Sakura."

She didn't answer.

"Sakura!"

He waited.

"We're not friends." She finally answered.

"That's okay." He said.

"You're stupid." She retorted.

"If you say so." He deflected. "I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, Sakura."

They lapsed into silence.

Sakura opened an eye to stare at him.

"I don't eat." She continued. "I don't need to eat anymore."

Shirou bobbed his head.

"I see," He really didn't grasp the scope of what living like that must be like. "I'll bring you a book."

Sakura jingled her hands, rattling the etherlite wrapped around her wrists.

"I'll read it to you."

"Are you stupid?"

"We may have established this a few lines ago." He powered through. "You like books about trees and flowers, right?"

"Because of my name?" She sneered, unimpressed.

"No," Shirou turned and walked out of the room. "Shinji told me."

Sakura stared at his retreating back in silence.

Somewhere west of Tokyo laid a maintenance building servicing the highspeed rail. Deep within its bowels was a room, barely acknowledged by the building's staff. If other rooms were visited thrice a week, this one would barely break once a month.

It was a server room, its machinery silent in sleep mode. The only sound was the quiet hum of half-powered cooling units, the only light the dim glare of security lights.

This would change today.

Rows and columns of runes bled out from the sides of the massive machinery, tripping circuit breakers and spinning up long-neglected fans. Bright light flooded the room for the first time in what seemed forever. Oddly, black and brown stains remained where the shadows had been the deepest. A deep groan echoed through the room before going still.

The Yamanote circular train circuit roared to life, sparks of electricity and prana surging along the lines. Power coursed through the system, guided by the man-made structures. Hundreds to thousands of equations processed information at each stop in the station, forming an unbreakable circle of power.

Normal people, from school children to business men, felt just a little bit more tired that evening. The constant lethargy that clung to the older folks over their years riding the train became a bit heavier. Dully, the wounds that time had left on every man, woman, and child ached in resonance. Children actually found themselves feeling some sympathy for the older crowd that day, and a few more seats were given away.

Deep within the heart of the city, those more prone to following their instincts felt a tingle, urging them to head out of the city for whatever reason they could justify. Others grew ever more paranoid, occasionally looking over their shoulders as they walked through crowded streets. Homeless people in Shinjuku looked at their neighbors with suspicion.

Fog rose from the depths of multiple cemeteries, dancing and darting along the shrines.

Rats fled from the edges of the city under the cover of night. Stray dogs howled at the moon, barring their fangs murderously at anyone who approached. Cats restlessly prowled about their owner's homes, looking up and hissing at nothing in particular.

Unseen by all, deep beneath the earth, a steady rush of energy was surging from Fuyuki to Tokyo through the veins dug and reinforced by various forms of generators and thousands of miles of industrial wiring and tubing.

Tokyo was now a massive magic circle, powering a new form of the Holy Grail War.

The door to the roof of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building No. 1 flew wide open. A middle aged blond man with a sunny smile and a priest's habit strode forth, head held proudly high. He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the handful of people standing in the middle of the rooftop.

"My children, thank you so very much for your patience." Sancraid Phahn straightened out his mantle. "The final arrangements for the transfer of power were completed today."

Several of them were clearly unimpressed with the priest, but the youngest of them was the one that spoke.

She had dazzling eyes, like sparkling gemstones

"Is that the last Master, Doctor?" She brushed her thumb across her index and forefingers, an old tic that had never gone away. "Do all priests these days look so shabby?"

The dark haired girl was cuffed for her remark by the older gentleman standing next to her.

"Hush now, Rin." He muttered. "We're almost to the good part."

Rin smirked.

"The end?" She wondered.

Victor looked towards the skyline.

"...between the dedication of the Reiroukan clan members sympathetic to our cause, generous support of the Tohsaka family, and faithful viewers like you." Sancraid had kept talking during their aside, smiling and waving at the dead eyed (and bodied) stare of the remote viewing familiars that were standing with him and the other two living people on the roof. "We've finally seen the manifestation of our twenty year long dream in reality, a total restoration of the damaged leylines in Tokyo and the return of the Holy Grail War! Everyone, please give a round of applause! C'mon, bring it in! C'mon!"

Several confused familiars were brought into crushing bearhugs by the overly touchy man.

"Now, in my capacity as new mediator of the Holy Grail War," He walked up to the edge of the roof top and threw his arms out, looking out across the city below. "I welcome you all to beautiful Shinjuku!"

Rin Tohsaka clenched her fist, causing the Command Seal to glitter. Armed with this and her Servant, she couldn't lose. Loss was unacceptable; inconceivable. The fate of her mother lied in absolute victory.

"Let's go, Caster." She looked up at her Caster. "We have work to do."

Victor Frankenstein smirked and nodded back.