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People have taken to

calling me “the Reaper”. Only once have I ever been thanked

for my work.

–

This was awful. This

had to have been one of the worst nights of my life.

My pursuers had grown in number once again. They were dividing, at an incredible rate. Monsters who

lived only to separate humans by component parts; no matter how many

I cut down, I couldn’t stem the tide.

The effects of the Body

Augmentations I’d equipped to my own body had long faded. The fetish

charms of which I’d prepared so many, into which I’d stockpiled so

much mana, had all been expended. My heightened eyesight, my improved

cardiopulmonary functions and all the rest were now ragged and

exhausted, barely at the level of an ordinary human. All that I had

left to rely on now was my own flesh and bone, my own blood and guts:

the body that I’d somehow managed to keep intact for these fourteen

years.

That, and the lessons

that had been carved into my heart by a needle of regret.

The Material Barrier

that coated every inch of my skin had dwindled to its base

parameters. A single solid hit would be enough to blow me to pieces,

like a plate dropped on the floor. But I had a strange premonition

that all this was only a prelude to what was waiting for me; to what

would really make this the worst night of my life.

–

I sprinted through

alleyways, drenched in muddy water, covered in unreclaimed garbage.

Once, worshippers would take this road to reach Kanda Shrine. I

tumbled down one of the narrow, steep sets of stone stairs that split

off into innumerable branches. As I did so, I landed a flying kick on

the behinds of the two men ahead of me. The uninvited guests.

“Ugh, we still not at

the harbour? My heart’s about to damn well burst, girl! I’m gonna

drop dead right here!”

One of the men tilted

his neck to look at me.

“You know damn well

you aren’t! If you’re gonna live as long as you have, you should try

to have the courtesy to scrape together a century or two’s worth of

wisdom! Or if you can’t do that, at least just shut up and run!”

“Hey now, hey now! If

I’m ever gonna put a sock in it, it’ll be when I go meet the Buddha!

You could cut my head off right now and my mouth would still be

chatterin’!”

“Like hell it would,

because I’d tie it shut myself! With a good metre or two of wire!”

How many dozens of

times had he made some dumb immortality gag? It had gone beyond

getting on my nerves. He knew better than anyone that he could be

carved to pieces or shot full of holes, and it still wouldn’t be

enough to kill him. Although, for all that, he was in almost as sorry

a state as I was right now.

Even in this day and

age, when immortality was hardly a rarity, he was still making me

listen to his nonsense. And what was he doing talking about meeting

the Buddha anyway, when he was a Jew?

“Just shut up and

keep moving!”

“…Understood.”

The other man nodded. His partner skidded as he rounded a corner,

almost toppling, and he reached out to grab his belt, righting him as

naturally as if he were taking hold of a jib sheet.

“Once we reach the

docks, they cannot best us.”

His wild black hair and

unshaven beard carried the smell of the deep. It was something wholly

unlike this town’s artificial landscapes:

the scent of real sea breezes and real shafts of sunlight, carved

deep into his soul.

“Understood. I’m

counting on you, Captain.”

His response was

silence.

The starkness of the

difference between himself and his companion still took me aback.

Could it be that sailors simply disliked wasting words? I didn’t

think so. He likely just didn’t trust me yet. In any case, though, I

was glad that I had not made an enemy of this strong, silent man of

the sea. Things could have easily have gone differently.

And besides, I couldn’t

deny that I had found something unexpectedly endearing in the twin grey flames burning beneath his chiselled

brow.

–

Needless to say, the

captain’s dominion was the sea; on land, he could not fully exercise

his power. That was why we were now making haste to the harbour.

I was only collateral

damage to the monsters pursuing us. Their real target was my

companions: the two men whose protection constituted my current job.

One was a Heroic Spirit, who had come in answer to a summons: a

Servant. The zenith of necromantic magic. The other was human; was

human, for he had abandoned his humanity a long time ago.

Any

denizen of this city would have told you that Servants are safe and

harmless; but peaceful and happy though this thought may be, only

they believed it. That was why people like me existed: to maintain

the illusions of their everyday, by doing the work that anyone else

would revile. The work of killing Servants with our own two hands.

–

She,

too, had been one - someone I had been assigned to dispose of

appropriately.

Her

name had been Kundry. A pagan woman, gone mad with love. The

lingering fragrance of her loathing, the vicious curse from an enemy

I should have finished with, her terrifying, meticulous booby-trap

had survived her death, and pursued us relentlessly even now. Those

little sprites. They would chase us forever, gorging themselves on

the mana that suffused this town.

I

had expected that she might make her appearance mounted on horseback.

I had not expected her to have any knowledge of summoning magic.

Nothing to that effect had been mentioned in any of the documents I

had scoured.

The

creatures Kundry had called forth were little sprites called

“gremlins”. Newcomers in the world of magecraft, and monsters for

the modern era. They made their nests in machines and electrical

appliances. Appropriate for this town, I thought.

Vermin who swarm

around open ley-lines. Efficient, I suppose.

This

wasn’t the time to be marvelling. Aside from anything else, they had

come close to chewing off one of my fingers not a few minutes ago –

but this struggle too would end, if I could set these men to sea.

“Over

there! Drop down to that waterway! The side street goes straight to

the harbour!”

“Damn

it, girl, a one-way street? Ain’t my thing at all!” He didn’t even

bother trying to put on an air of urgency.

Water

shone slick on the concrete of the side street. The tide was ebbing:

an ideal time to set sail.

“Well,

ain’t that lucky, Reaper girl? Looks like you’ll be able to give us

the nice little sendoff you wanted after all!”

“Damn

right I will. I won’t be sorry to see the back of either of you.”

“The

Reaper really don’t pull her punches, huh! What was that earlier?

“Looks like Hendrick has once more failed to take a wife”? “Maybe

you’ll hit the jackpot in another seven years”?” The talkative

one cast a glance at his partner’s back. The captain remained as

taciturn as ever, but his shoulders seemed slumped just a little.

Seven

years. Seven years’ time. Two thousand, five hundred-odd days? I

didn’t know how it felt to immortals, but to me, seven years’ time

seemed unimaginably far away. It was a world hidden behind a

pitch-black fog, with no guarantee that it would ever come at all.

“I’m,

well…I’m sorry about that.”

“Ain’t

nothin’, girl, I’ll cheer him right back up again. Bit of a shame,

though, I liked this town. It’s noisy, and crazy, and it was

ever-so-willin’ to look the other way for us.”

“I

see.” As long as you two remain here, there can be no guarantee of

that. That’s why this was always going to happen.

The

sails of the yachts moored in the harbour began to come into view. I

expelled an inadvertent sigh of relief. Careful now, Erice. You

mustn’t let your composure slip, not even for a moment. “Presence

of mind”. Words my master taught me.

Maintaining

one’s composure did not mean denying one’s emotions. It meant

accepting them. Anger, bitterness, suffering, terror – welcoming

each and every one as an old friend, turning none away. Without doing

that, it would be impossible to take a step back and view oneself

objectively. More than a few times, that principle had saved my life.

We

arrived at the wharf, and were lucky enough to find ourselves an

unsecured vessel. It was only a small boat, rowed by hand, and

cramped enough that even just the two men climbing in would be enough

to fill it.

“Are

you absolutely sure you don’t need anything bigger?”

“This

will serve just fine”, the captain said. He had procured two oars

from one of the other yachts. By no means did they look like

sufficient preparation for setting sail to the open sea, but whatever

the case, I was grateful that they at least hadn’t wasted any time

indulging in sentimentality.

I

checked the boat meticulously for traps, before turning my attention

to keeping watch on the surrounding area for our pursuers. It was

midnight on the Kanda river, and the reflections of neon lights

drifted lazily across the water’s tranquil surface. The harbour was

deserted, and the river was devoid of the silhouettes of waterborne

buses. At least there was no need to worry about any civilians

getting caught up in this.

“Looks

like this is goodbye, huh? My dear little Reaper girl.”

They

had already climbed into the boat. The talkative one began to gather

up the mooring rope that I had carelessly tossed from where I watched

on the jetty.

“Ya

know, I wouldn’t’ve minded killin’ you, if it woulda meant I could

bum around this town just a little longer.”

“…I

know. You’re leaving because the Captain wishes it. You don’t have

any concern for me, you’re just respecting his desires. That’s right,

isn’t it…Ahaseurus? You’re the oldest man alive. The man who’s

lived longer than even Noah or Methuselah.”

He

shook his head from side to side, laughing uproariously.

Next to him, the captain struck one of the wooden pillars of the

jetty, changing the boat’s direction. Still refraining from joining

the conversation, he took the oars in both hands, and began to row

with powerful strokes.

“You overestimate me, girl. You’re well aware, aintcha? That I’m

not the only poor bastard who turned his back on the Lord, and wound

up unable to die ‘cos of it. Even nowadays, the world is full of

monsters. And what about you, born in this Mosaic City, in this new

world - can you really be so sure you’re human? Whaddaya say to that,

eh?”

The little boat left the jetty behind, slipping easily through the

water, growing smaller and smaller. It was all I could do to hide my

humiliation beneath a calm exterior, and offer him a parting gift.

“Ahaseutus! The Wandering Jew of legend! I pray that someday, you

will find your place of rest!”

The

immortal was now sprawled lazily in the bottom of the rowboat,

waving back at me impudently. I

wish I had more time to speak to you. I wanted to learn about the way

you live. But he was

sneering at me now. The same cruel smile, I felt sure, that he had

once turned upon someone else, long ago.

“Oh, wake up, girl! There ain’t a single place of rest in this

whole damn world! Ain’t nothin’ but inferno, as far as the eye can

see! God damn… I ain’t got no mind to thank ya, especially not

after everythin’ you did to cut our stay short, but I hate naivety

more than a third helping of bagels! How about one last bit of wisdom

from an old man?”

The

currents of the Kanda river had finally taken hold of the rowboat,

and it rapidly receded from view as he shouted from the stern.

“Try and enjoy yourself a little! That’s how you live a splendid

life!”

How carefree he smiled. He had spouted nonsense to the end.

“…And how am I supposed to do that?”

It might have been valuable advice from a man with centuries’ more

experience than I, but it wasn’t the kind of joke I wanted to hear. I

knew no small number of people who had striven to enjoy their lives,

and died all too soon for their trouble. What did pain or suffering

matter, in the face of that? Above all else, I did not want to die.

–

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The gremlins had

closed the distance, and now they had cornered us in this place.

A few seconds after my prophetic chill came the sound of claws

scraping on asphalt. A thousand chittering shrieks. All at once they

burst forth from the shadows of the harbour, and surged across the

decks of the boats docked by the wharf.

“Not this again…!”

They

had no eyes for me any more. They splashed across the surface of the

water, racing after Ahaseutus and the captain. They might have been

weak individually, but if a horde of this size reached their boat, it

would sink in an instant. The situation sent a shiver of fear through

me. I levelled my final trump card - my Arcane Bullet, Freischütz

- at their vanguard, and barked a warning across the water.

“Captain!”

But before my shout had even reached him, he had pushed his oars onto

Aheseutus, and now stood upright in the unstable little boat. I heard

the rushing sound of him sucking in a great breath.

“Yooo-ho!

Hoo-howay! Yooo-hoo-howay!”

He bellowed, as though awakening after a long silence. Or rather, he

sang, in a mighty, booming voice that could only have been produced

by his broad chest. A sailor’s song. A sea shanty, of the kind true

men of the ocean hummed under their breath.

And in that moment, I saw. Aheseutus’ scrawny arm, thrust lazily

upwards. The distinctive pattern on the back of his right hand, that

for an instant flared dull red.

“We’re setting sail, Hendrick. Looks like it’s goodbye to dry land

for a while.”

“Hee-sa!”

A order made by Command Seal, one of the crown jewels of magecraft.

From Master, to Servant. And the captain responded instantly. His

piecing whistle echoed throughout every corner of the harbour. Space

began to warp, and a barrage of concentrated magecraft struck my

cheek.

“Raise the anchor! Unfurl the sails! Set the lookout! Tonight we

set to sea! Tonight we are bound for the sea of endless storms!”

The captain roared – and voices answered his call, from below the

water’s surface.

“Hee-ya!”

Vile laughter, now, like the creaking of bones. And voices that

continued in song even so.

“Hah!”

“Hah!”

“Hah!”

“Hah!”

“Where’s

yer bride, Cap'n!”

“Give

us drink from the shore, Cap'n! Give us spirits, to put fire in our

throats!”

“Hee-sa!”

“Hee-sa!”

“Hee-sa!”

Beneath the boat, a host of pale wisps swirled. From the gremlins who

had been racing across the water to close in on the boat, not even

flinching at the unveiling of the captain’s magecraft, now arose a

shriek of warning.

An edge of red cloth sliced upwards from within the water. It met

with the gremlins about to reach the boat, cutting them quite

literally in two. A crimson sail.

A black pillar now rose from the water, knocking the rowboat aside.

As though they had been waiting for this moment, the pair abandoned

their vessel to leap to it. The waters of the Kanda river boiled and

churned, as an enormous hull slowly revealed itself.

A sailing ship. An oak-wrought galleon, of the kind that forged the

path across the Atlantic Ocean during the Age of Discovery. A

bowsprit that thrust forth threateningly from the prow. The gentle

curve of a sturdy hull. A quarterdeck like a fortress, towering

intimidatingly over all it surveyed. Three tall masts pierced deep

into the night sky, and from them billowed sails coloured the red of

blood.

The greatest Noble Phantasm of the Wandering Dutchman.

“So that’s the wandering Dutch galleon, the Flying Dutchman! A

ghost ship, cursed to drift eternally upon a stormy sea…”

I was bearing witness to the manifestation of a most unique kind of

magecraft. My cheeks began to tingle. A shiver ran through me at the

sight of the sails and the hull – blood-red and pitch-black, just

as the legends claimed. A ghost ship cursed to share the fate of its

captain, the Wandering Dutchman, never to rest or be granted relief.

The waves lapping at the jetty were getting higher now, and

threatening to sweep me away, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from

the spectacle of the ship, and its manifestation amid a mighty corona

of energy.

The gremlins who had evaded the attack from the sails tried to cling

to the ship’s hull, but the wisps on deck would not brook such a

means of boarding their vessel. One by one they changed form into the

spirits of sailors and descended to the deck, brandishing the

cutlasses at their belts. It looked almost like a fairground

attraction.

They, too, were bound by the curse of the Flying Dutchman. One more

part of a terrifying Noble Phantasm. There was never any mercy to be

found in their blades.

“Hah!”

“Hah!”

“Heeeee-sah!”

“Worthless

scum! Ain’t even worth turnin’ the cannons on 'em!”

“Give

us more blood, Cap'n!”

“Hee-sa!”

This battle was theirs. To watch the ease with which they overwhelmed

the foe, one would never imagine how much we had struggled on land.

Aheseutus watched from on high. It might have been the correct

approach for a Master, but something about it grated on my nerves.

The final gremlin was dispatched with a blow from the captain’s oar.

“Stow the chatter, my lads! Now, set a course for open sea!”

Once more, he gave the order to set sail, brandishing his oar towards

the night horizon. Lightning flickered there, and there came a

distant roll of thunder. It had been the same on the night of their

arrival. Now the eternal storm waited for them once again.

The ghost ship forged onwards, wind swelling in its tautened sails.

Its silhouette grew smaller, until it was lost in the darkness. All

that remained on the deserted shoreline was the mournful echo of the

pale spirits’ song.

“Dalais, Nicht, Eijikeit…

Dalais, Nicht, Eijikeit…”

I hummed it to myself. I’d heard or seen that phrase somewhere

before, in the classroom library.

“Dalais…Nicht…Eijikeit…”

“The Devil’s curse lies on these sails…they shall not tear 'til

Judgement Day…”

I could no longer see the figure of the captain. All that remained

was a single slender silhouette reclining against the railing of the

poop deck, never waving, simply staring back at the town’s lights

until it faded into the distance.

The storm passed, and silence returned to the harbour. I sighed in

relief. Now that they had set sail, I could barely move. I was

overcome by exhaustion, of course, to some degree. But more than

anything else, I wanted to cast my mind back over these past few

days, over the ways in which these two man had unapologetically

pulled my heart to and fro, and commit them firmly to memory.

–

I let out another sigh, and then touched my fingertip to one of my

forelocks. My magic circuits, set to refuse communications, once more

return to open…and as if on schedule, a message came in. The

familiarity of the voice immediately put me at ease.

“I presume your assignment has been completed?”

“Mm-hm.”

My master and I always contacted each other this way. Delicate

vibrations were transmitted into my inner ear, and I perceived them

as her voice. This was a method of communication with no need for

electromagnetic waves, being derived from automatic transcription

magecraft. The average citizen had no need for it, but this was one

of our little tricks.

“This assignment’s targets – the “Wandering Jew”, the

immortal Aheseutus, and his Servant, the “Wandering Dutchman”,

Captain Hendrick Van der Decken – have been successfully escorted

from the Akihabara ward of Mosaic City.”

“If so, then it should be seven years at the earliest before we see

them again?”

“I think so. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it should be that

way for them, at least. Aheseutus didn’t appear to have contracted

with any Servant other than Hendrick.”

The captain’s ghost ship was an oddity among oddities.

Even among the various wards of Mosaic City, Akihabara – also known

as the Maritime City – was, as its name implied, in notably close

contact with the ocean. However, its topography did not make it

defenceless. If anything, it was the reverse; it was protected by a

stronger barrier than the other wards. And the Grail would not permit

an act so barbaric as breaching the barrier and forcibly making port.

However, a powerful curse lay on the captain and his crew: they were

forbidden for making landfall more than once every seven years. And

by the same token, once every seven years, they could make port

wherever they wished. If they had come to Akihabara with more

aggressive intent, it would have been virtually beyond me to stand

against them.

“Understood.”

I could tell from her breathing that she was satisfied. Now her

confirmation checklist moved on to the crux of the matter.

“And what about Kundry?”

I bit back the response that immediately rose to my throat, and

paused for a moment to steady my breathing.

“Dead. I confirmed the destruction of her Saint Graph myself.”

A brutal matter to discuss openly on the street. I once more cast a

quick glance around the midnight harbour, but it remained unchanged,

deserted as ever.

“But…I think there’s a chance that some of her enchantments might

be remaining somewhere. I’ll investigate again soon.”

“Oh? So you’re telling me that an autonomous-type Servant’s

enchantments still remain, even after the Servant themselves has

disappeared?”

“That’s right. And I’ve suffered for it, too.”

“What a unique case… This whole situation has turned out to be

rather troublesome. I can lend my aid as far as scanning the city for

unauthorised ley line access goes, but…”

“I don’t think it’ll show up on a scan. I don’t know how, but she’s

managed to conceal it.”

“I see. In that case, it seems I will need you more than ever.”

“Perhaps so.”

My master responded to me with a deliberate silence, and I followed

suit. I got the distinct sensation that we were feeling each other

out. If we had been talking face to face, I somehow felt certain that

she would have seen right through my nervousness. It was of course

possible to equip a communication circuit with video functionality –

in fact, it was possible to directly send input from all five senses

– but I disliked being so open about my work. And in the first

place, I didn’t even have the mana remaining right now.

Anyway, it seemed that she had accepted my report, for the moment.

“Understood. You can tell me about the details in person, later.”

“I don’t mind coming by tomorrow, if you want. I’ll be coming to

class anyway.”

“…I see. In that case, I’ll hear what you have to say then.”

“Alright.”

“Your hard work is appreciated, as always. Goodnight, Erice.”

“Thanks.”

My master was unfailingly polite and courteous. Odd it may have been

to wish someone who had never known a true night’s sleep a good

night, but it did not bother me. I was just on the cusp of a suitably

witty retort when I was interrupted again.

“Oh, that’s right. I ought to have mentioned, Erice.”

“Eh?”

“Karin was terribly angry earlier.”

“…Karin?”

“It couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago. She was rather

fierce about it. She was complaining that you were ignoring all of

her text messages, and wondering if there was something wrong with

the network. I had to explain to her that you were engaged with your

work, and were likely blocking all communications.”

“…right. I’m sorry about that.”

“As am I.”

–

“As am I”…?

Blocking communications had been the correct call. My master had

nothing to apologise for…did she?

“That Karin…”

I left the jetty from which I had watched the Flying Dutchman’s

departure. A forest of white sails passed me by as I cut across the

harbour, and set out on the road home.

Something so distracting as idle chatter with Karin while I was

working would have been fatal. I would be hanged before I would allow

my concentration to be so disrupted in a battle with my life on the

line. But in the end, I had still been careless. I had been elated,

buoyed up by the success of a job well done.

To the edge of the wharf. Into a break in the yacht harbour. Past

rows upon rows of warehouses, at the top of the stairs that led to

the overhead roadway – she was there.

The tail of her habit fluttered in the sea breeze. Once hidden

beneath her veil, her hair now danced proud and wild.

“Pray tell me – how do you feel, in this moment?”

She asked with painstaking courtesy, her voice dripping with

merciless contempt.

“Boor that you are, to steal away my love, and think to strike me

down. And in the end you did not even finish me, but left me by the

roadside. For indeed, you had every chance to kill me, but in your

arrogance you pitied me instead. I can only imagine the

self-satisfaction you must feel.”

Kundry, the pagan. Her hair was ebony, and her skin was walnut. The

lids of her rich, dark eyes were lowered, as though she were half

asleep. Powerful awakening magic resided within her captivating lips.

Her face proudly showed her Mediterranean heritage, and it was

near-flawless in its beauty…or so it seemed to me, at least.

Provided I could pinch my nose to the stench of the machinations

writhing in her guts.

Her clothing was stitched with horsehair, said to be worn by those

who wished for atonement, and it had become torn and ragged in our

battle. Here and there, her skin now lay unashamedly bared to the

world. At our first encounter I had thought her a virtuous woman of

the cloth, but the scandalous costume she now wore would have drawn

stares even on the night of Halloween. Although what was more, the

one who had damaged her so beyond repair had been me.

“Ahh…You. I believe you named yourself Erice? Nay, I misspeak.

“The Reaper” was your name, was it not?”

“Kundry…”, I whispered. She was a woman beyond my help.

I had used a trap I had laid to deprive her of her mount, before

engaging her in a vicious melee and damaging her heavily – or so I

had thought, but it seemed that she hadn’t been as immobilised as I

had believed. I would have to revise my assessment of the Rider

class’s base stats.

I called out to her, in as simple terms as possible, trying to make

her understand.

“Are you listening, Kundry? I’m repeating myself here, I don’t know

how many times this makes it, but all I ever did was encourage Ahesh

and the captain to prioritise evacuating the city. I did not steal

your lover.”

She remained silent for a long moment. Her eyes stared down at me,

boring into me, not moving a millimetre. I was fully aware that she

was not an opponent I could negotiate with – but more than anything

else, in my current situation, I wanted time to observe her. There

was something more here - something that lay behind how she had

maintain control over so many gremlins even after losing

consciousness, behind the ease with which she had appeared before me

now - and I wanted to know it.

I knew I was outmatched. Should I request aid from my master through

my magic circuits? Unthinkable. This was my whirlwind to reap. But

even so, I couldn’t see my decision to spare Kundry the finishing

blow as a mistake. There was no doubt that leaving her unchecked

would have been catastrophic for this town – but only if Aheseurus

and the captain had stayed. At the end of the day, Kundry too was an

outsider, and she had only appeared here in their pursuit.

“I’ll tell you once more, Kundry. Leave this town. Your wounds are

too deep to heal if you don’t. You’ll be destroyed, and I’m sure you

don’t want that.

“I too repeat myself. Return my love.”

“”My love”…?” I was surprised. So blinded was she in her

pursuit, that she had followed us here without realising even that

simple truth.

“You’re too late, Kundry. Your love has already set sail, and

unfortunately, all the monsters you set in wait for us have been

destroyed. Continuing your chase any more would be pointless.”

Their departure I was sure about. The destruction of her traps, I was

not. But whatever the case, all I wanted was to persuade her to give up.

“My love has…left me behind…? Aahhhh….”

A wail of grief arose from her throat as she bent over double. From

between two hands tearing at her hair, her burning gaze pierced into

me.

“I will take my vengeance! The hammer of retribution will fall upon

you!”

She had firmly grasped the wrong end of the stick, and she wasn’t letting go.

The flames of jealousy burned bright within her. Was putting an end

to this my only option?

“You would be a fool to try. You can’t win against me, Kundry.”

“Do you truly think so? I still retain my Saint Graph, Reaper. As

you can see.”

She tilted her neck exaggeratedly, as she advanced down the stairs,

one step at a time.

“What makes you so certain that it is not you who is the weaker of

us? Already, your mana has dwindled such that you did not notice my

approach. The battle with my gremlins has expended your talismans and

gemstones to the last. Is that not so?”

I kept my silence.

“You are naught but a girl, not even come of age. For your courage

in taking up the night watch in this fortress, and for the heavy

responsibilities you bear, I admit my admiration. However…” A

tatter of her habit tangled around her leg, and she dispassionately

tore it away. “In the end, you are a human – and I am a Servant.”

“I know.”

If this mad queen had some awareness of her nature as an autonomous

Servant, then there was only one more step left.

“That’s why, Kundry. That’s why Akihabara will never accept your

existence. That’s why, no matter where you go in Mosaic City, you

will be rejected as an outsider. I installed a classification tag

into your Saint Graph. Your supply of mana from the town in order to

sustain yourself will be closed to you. Not only that – just by

your existing in this place, the tag will pollute your Saint Graph,

poisoning you from the inside out.”

There was hardly any need for me to give her the warning. Just trying

to absorb mana through the act of breathing should already be

wracking her body with pain. But she seemed to be interpreting it

instead as the agony of parting, as suffering that proved her bond

with her beloved.

Kundry furrowed her eyebrows resentfully. She shouldn’t have been

able to manage more than standing still while still maintaining her

corporeal form. And conversely, my strength was recovering by the

second.

“My talismans and gemstones might have protected me, but that

wasn’t their true purpose.”

“Know that whatever nonsense you are speaking, it does not sway my

heart.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t.”

Kundry,

you learned that this place would become a battlefield, and used

Akihabara for your own ends. But you must have neglected to

thoroughly investigate the Reaper who lurks in the shadows of this

town. The moment you learn the reason I bear this name will be the

moment in which you are destroyed.

But even so -

“I do not want you to disappear here, Kundry.”

Her face twisted in incredulity.

You

are a Servant. A being summoned by some unknown party - a magus of

high rank, most likely. A wandering fragment of myth, fitted with a

thaumaturgical perpetual motion machine of the second kind. If left

alone, you will eventually fall to sustaining yourself with the life

energy of the common people. You are a clear threat to this city.

“It would be such a waste…”

But it was nothing short of a miracle, I thought. That a Servant had

fallen in love with another Servant. This was no destiny assigned by

the Grail. It was an impossibility, one that would not come around

twice. Kundry’s lover had been the Holy Knight of the Swan –

someone all too different from the wild captain of the Flying

Dutchman.

“You fell in love with the captain, didn’t you? You came to this

town in pursuit of him, knowing all the while that your love was

impermissible. How many decades did it take you, Kundry? How many

centuries?”

I advanced towards her, slowly, deliberately, one step at a time.

“You aren’t a Servant, Kundry. You aren’t some spectre of the past.

You’re a human, living in the present. A human being.”

The story she was living now was something entirely new, untouched by

any human eye. She had slipped the yoke of the Grail.

“I kill Servants who violate the rules of this town…of the Grail.

That’s my job. I can’t lend you my aid.”

“And so you’ll let me go? At your convenience? My, my… Such kind

consideration…”

She descended into feeble, self-deprecating laughter, her posture

slumping. Her face was pale and drawn, sickly from loss of blood.

“Kundry, you have to leave this town. You can still make it in

time, if you take the train. The last one hasn’t left the station!”

Cut off from her means of replenishing her mana, she likely had less

than an hour. And if my master learned of the truth of her survival,

all would be lost. There was no chance whatsoever that she would

overlook my transgression.

“Will his ship…return someday?”

She put the question to me, her hostility faltering. Her voice was

hoarse as an old woman’s, but it carries the innocent words of a

lovestruck young girl.

“I cannot say.”

I didn’t have any answer to give her. Although at the very least, I

knew that they had shown no such intention during their stay here.

Their curse was “to wander eternally”. Working from the

definition, it was unlikely that they could return to any city where

they had already made landfall. After all, travelling back and forth

periodically between two cities could hardly be considered

“wandering”. Even if they did visit the same land twice, it would

only be after the name of the city had changed, and its people and

the age it had existed in had moved on, that they would be permitted

to dock.

What was more, Kundry too was deathless, a creature of legend fated

to wander eternal; but the form her curse took was different from

that of the Dutch captain or the Wandering Jew. It was from world to

world that she wandered, reincarnating over and over, yet retaining

her memories. Once, she had been a witch; once, the consort of King

Herod II. It was even said that she was once a Valkyrie, one of the

daughters of the Allfather Odin. It was her fate to serve men of

strength in every life, only to be used as a tool and cast aside –

and that fate would never end, until she was at last united with her

true love, and granted the salvation of death.

Now she had been summoned again as a Servant, and was being used once

more by another. Ordinarily, her memories of her different summonings

would be reset, but the effects of her unique circumstances extended

even here. The hell she was living differed from Aheseurus’s in form,

but that made it no less tragic.

“But…”

There was only one thread of hope I could give to this woman,

struggling beneath the enormous weight of her past.

“I am sure that you will meet them again. It all turns on you.

No-one knows what will come…I am sure that your future can be

changed.” I drew level with her now. She was close enough that I

could reach out and touch her.

But in the end, my cheap words and my naive heart were not enough to

move her. I was answered with an unwavering gaze, and steely

rejection.

“You

lie.” She shook her head, distraught.“What

makes you think I will permit such self-centred, ill-mannered

applause – on my

stage? What would you know of my despair?”

She had seen right through me. The desperation that had seeped my

words – words that would certainly have violated the rules of

Mosaic City – was plain as day to her.

“The

future can be changed? My

future? Well then, come, Reaper – come and kill me, if you can!”

“I’m sorry…Kundry…”

The legends told: that Kundry, the pagan woman, would never tell a

lie. However, nor would she ever serve the cause of good.

She brandished her hand high above her head. In her palm, mana began

to gather, and crystallise into the form of something straight and

long: a spear. A long-handled soldier’s spear, in the fashion of the

ancient Roman empire.

“That spear…that spear is-”

I was reflexively diving away before I could even complete my mumbled

sentence. This was a Noble Phantasm! The Holy Spear – Longinus!

Once more, I had been careless. Her Noble Phantasm had been neither

her mount, nor her lips of awakening. It had not even crossed my mind

that she might possess this spear, both blessed and cursed.

With

the spear held aloft, the mad queen arched her body backwards like a

whip, never once taking her eyes from my fleeing figure – and

threw.

The attack closed on me faster than the speed of sound. I activated a

single-action incantation. All I could manage was to instantaneously

fire a sure-hit arcane bullet into the spear’s path, deflecting it a

little from its arc straight to my heart.

The blow skewered me deep, sending me flying sideways out across the

harbour, bouncing across the surface of the Kanda river. The spray

from the impact splashed high, reflecting the neon illumination of

the town like tacky fairy lights.

“…Porca…miseria…”

The last effort I could muster went into that curse, and then I sank

towards the riverbed.

I saw a dream. A dream of a tiny pain.

When I lost my parents, I was placed in the care of my grandmother,

who was my only living relative. She lived in an old-fashioned wooden

house on the outskirts of Shinjuku. As a child I never showed my

emotions outwardly, and did very little to endear me to my

grandmother, who must have struggled to know what to do with me.

One afternoon, she laid out newspaper in one corner of the narrow

garden, and cut my hair. I sat in the chair, letting her do as she

wished. I was not yet old enough for my feet to have touched the

ground.

My grandmother’s hands were far from deft. The toothed tip of the pair of thinning scissors she was using brushed against the top of my left

ear, the metal cool on my skin - and with a snip, cut it along with

my hair.

It hurt, of course, but I let nothing show. I had simply accepted it

for what it was.

In the end my grandmother realised her carelessness, and her mistake,

only when she noticed the thin rivulet of blood trickling down my

neck as she was finishing her work. She stared at me, lost for words,

with an expression so deeply grieved that the world might as well

have ended.

For a long time after that, she was silent. She treated my wound, and

then she spoke. “If it hurts, Erice, you have to tell me it hurts.”

I nodded mechanically. She managed a feeble smile, although she still

looked as though she were about to cry.

I still have the scar from that day on my ear. A scar like the mark

left on a train ticket by the ticket punch.

I awakened from my momentary dream.

A heavy, cold pain lanced pierced through my abdomen. The moment I

became aware of the irregularity, a burning numbness spread

throughout my body. It had been a magnificent blow. Although I should

have expected as much from the spearwork of Valhalla.

I knew this was real – that I was submerged, sinking to the bottom

of the Kanda River – and yet it felt strangely like a dream.

Perhaps I was numbing my own senses, in order to spare myself

unnecessary suffering.

–

I was running my recovery systems at full power, but they still

couldn’t keep pace. The mental processing power required for

self-analysis, and the underwater respiration functionality I had

loaded in case of emergencies, would only last a few more seconds at

best. Through my wavering vision, I watched the edges of the lance

skewering my stomach begin to blur and lose cohesion, coming undone

from the outside in.

So

this spear…was a projection… It wasn’t a genuine…Noble

Phantasm…

It had been a counterfeit, reproduced by the hand of someone other

than its rightful owner.

That

would…make sense… If it had been…the true Holy Spear…an

arcane bullet couldn’t have…

But still, there was something in its framework that came extraordinarily

close to the genuine article, forged with incredible precision. My

lips curled into a self-deprecating smile, at the absurdity of my

lapse in judgement and the situation I had been placed in.

The projection’s creator showed no sign of coming to retrieve her

spear, or any intention of making sure of the death of her foe. She

must have found the satisfaction she sought, believing her vengeance

complete. Now, she should no longer have any reason to remain in this

town. I prayed that she managed to escape Akihabara before her Saint

Graph disappeared in totality…although I reserved the right to

register a complaint or two with her, should we ever meet again

face-to-face.

–

I had lost all sense of up or down, but it seemed I must have been

sinking face-up. The colours of reflected neon coalesced before my

eyes on the water’s surface, spreading out in front of me like a sky

filled with stars.

It’s…so

beautiful…

My vision began to dim, and the spectacle before me felt as though it

was receding into the distance. The darkness drew me silently under.

My life slipped out from between my lips, in little bubbles that rose

into the sky.

–

And then, I met with my fate.

–

First to come was the music. A lone piano, a woodwind ensemble, a

vocal chorus; even, somewhere, the whimsical tones of an electric

guitar. Melodies played by a multitude of instruments faded in and

then out again, one after the other.

It wasn’t a real orchestra. It was unmistakably being played back -

and its recording quality was hardly the best, at that. It would have

been extremely low-fidelity, even if I hadn’t been underwater.

And then, suddenly, I noticed. That beyond where my eyes’ drifting

focuses met, a tiny, pale blue light was flitting back and forth, as

though frolicking among the bubbles rising through the water. It swam

gleeful and free.

What…is

that?

Next to enter my ears came the words, although they were in languages unknown to

me. But all of them were short, like words of greeting. Some of them

even seemed as though I had heard them somewhere before.

My consciousness dimmed once more, and I blinked, long and slow –

and then he was there. A child of gold.

A young boy floated before me, phosphorescence dancing across his

golden hair.

His form was all too unreal, but somehow, it seemed reassuringly

familiar to me.

…A…a

Servant…?

I could easily have told myself it was just an illusion, shown to me

by my dimming consciousness. A hallucination brought forth by my

oxygen-starved brain, as its suffering reached saturation point. But

still, somehow, an inexplicable expectation filled my breast,

swirling, warming me from within.

His mouth opened.

“I…ask…you…”

He spoke, in halting English. He was calling out to someone – to

me, directly.

“Are…you…worthy…of…being…my…Master…?”

I had no way of understanding what was happening. All I knew for

certain was that on this night, my war had begun. That a Holy Grail

War had begun. And that single truth overtook anything and everything

else, to strike deep into my chest.

I stretched out towards him, reaching with fingers that had lost all

feeling.

And in the next moment – my arm was grasped by sturdy claws, and I

was dragged up once more to the world above the surface.

–

Several minutes later, I was laid flat on the concrete of the wharf,

desperately hacking up water. The hand of someone drawing up close to

me gently patted my back.

“Hey, you awake? You’re awake, right?”

The girl who had been nursing me now leaned over to peer directly

into my face – and then yelled mercilessly, directly into my ear.

“OY, OLD MAN ERI! AWAKE IN THERE, YA ROTTEN SACK OF STUPID? THE

HELL YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYIN’ AT, HUH? YOU BETTER BELIEVE I’M GONNA

KICK YOUR SORRY ASS FROM HERE TO NEXT WEEK!”

It was her. The girl my master had talked to me about, and one of my

very few friends.

“Oh, it’s just you, Karin.”

My mood had taken a sudden turn for the worse. The inside of my nose

was beginning to sting.

“Blegh. …Hang on…Karin, don’t tell me…artificial

respiration?”

“LIKE HELL I DID, YA DUMBASS!”

“I’m telling you, keep it down.”

“Ah, yeah, nope. Not gonna lie, I thought about it for a bit. But

Momi was sayin’ you’d be fine, so…”

That would explain it.

“So you were the one…who helped me, Kouyou. …Thank you.”

The hulking form next to Karin rustled a little, in place of a

response. The visage of this creature who had fished me from the

water was a clear oddity, even by the standards of Mosaic City. She

resembled nothing so much as a black dinosaur, with great horns

growing from her head. This was the Servant who called Karin Master:

the Berserker, the Ogress Kouyou. Karin had nicknamed her Momi, short

for Momiji – another reading of Kouyou, “autumn leaves”.

Even knowing her true name, I still struggled to reconcile it with

her appearance. But by no means did I mean to denigrate her worth by

saying that.

“Hold on a-! I’m right here, y'know! The girl who told Momi to dive

in and save your sorry ass! So, you’re rewardin’ me for my efforts,

right? You’re treatin’ me to takoyaki, right…?”

“No idea what you think I’d do that for. Although I’ll gladly treat

Kouyou to as much as she wants.”

“Wha-!”

Karin’s mouth kept running, and it showed no signs of stopping any

time soon. I rolled over exasperatedly and made to pick myself up,

but was pushed back down decisively by Kouyou. No moving yet.

You would never think her arms ended in such wicked claws, so gentle

was her touch – but even so, it was firm enough so as to permit no

disagreement.

I tried to twist my body around as I lay sideways, and a wave of

agony crashed through my midriff. I winced, almost passing out.

It shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, I had been skewered

through by a spear up until a few scant minutes ago. The weapon

itself might have vanished now, but it had left its mark clearly on

my flank.

“C'mon, just rest for a bit. Listen to Momi. Where do you think

you’re going, anyway, with a hole in your guts you could drive a bus

through? Don’t you realise that if it weren’t for Momi’s healing

you’d be dead by now?”

“…Ugh…I guess so…”

Heat blossomed steadily throughout my abdomen as my metabolism began

to accelerate. Even though Kouyou was a Berserker, she was oddly

well-versed in the healing arts. I placed a great deal of trust in

her capabilities – her Master notwithstanding. This was not the

first time I had unexpectedly found myself having to make use of her

power, or even the second.

“She’s incredible, isn’t she? Kouyou, I mean. I don’t know why I’m

even surprised any more.”

“Well, maybe you’d be a bit more surprised if she wasn’t having to

patch you up all the time, dumbass! And how many times did I tell

you, anyway? That you should call on me to help you for big jobs?”

Karin paused in her tirade to heave an exaggerated sigh.

“Well…in the end, I guess you’re just lucky to be alive, huh.”

“…You’re telling me.”

I managed to catch a glimpse of the pattern of the Command Seal

glowing on the back of Karin’s right hand. Normally it would be

transparent, indistinguishable from her bare skin, but now, thanks to

her use of healing magecraft, it was awakened. The majority of its

strokes had been expended. It looked like it would take a few days to

recover.

Ah…

Only now did I realise that spread out beneath me lay Karin’s shirt.

It was soaked through, and wet with blood, although the bloodstain

was smaller than I would have thought. My wound was still agonising,

but the flow of blood had stemmed, and it had already acquired a thin

covering of granulation tissue.

“Karin…this is…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Karin produced an antibacterial patch

from the pouch she carried, and gave a little smile. I must have been

more fragile than I had thought, to have been on the point of showing

her a moment of weakness.

–

Kouyou, still as silent as ever, was keeping watch even as she

applied her healing magecraft – although no matter how much time

passed, all remained quiet on the wharf. Kundry had disappeared, and

left this town, or so my intuition told me. But even so, unanswered

questions remained. They stayed lodged in my memory, as items

requiring urgent investigation.

I quickly turned to Karin. “How did you know where I was?”, I

asked.

“Ain’t it obvious? I had to wring it out of your 'master’. On

account of a certain somebody not picking up their phone. Got

anything to say about that, eh? Hmm?”

Karin prodded one of my forelocks, an exasperated expression on her

face.

“Hmm. So that’s why.”

So that was the story behind my master’s oddly pointed final line.

She had decided that it was prudent to send Karin to the scene to

lend me her help. Which ultimately meant that I was not yet strong

enough to be worth of her unreserved trust.

And I suppose she wasn’t wrong, either…

I grit my teeth in frustration. Still lying sprawled, I covered my

eyes with my arm. Just how long would it take, before she would

acknowledge me as worthy? How long would it have to be before she

would assign me work outside of Akihabara?

This time it was Karin’s turn to ask me a question, as I lay

despondent.

“Hey, by the way, Eri-pie? Just wondering, but…”

I turned my neck to peer in the direction she was pointing, behind

Kouyou.

“Who’s the shrimp? Someone’s kid or something? He’s a Servant, right?”

“…What?” I started.

My premonition earlier this night had not been mistaken after all.

–

That boy was there.

His ethereal radiance was nowhere to be seen, and now he was just as

sodden as I was. As I watched, he approached Kouyou’s tail, brimming

with curiosity – and then came too close and was smacked away. He

was rolled first one way, then the other, like a kitten playing with

its mother’s tail.

“Hang on, Eri, don’t tell me…he’s not anything to do with your

work, right?”

Karin probed me, hesitantly. I knew well that Servants should not be

judged by their appearances. But even so…

“What’re you gonna do? You’re not gonna kill him, are you? You’re

really gonna kill him?”

“Uh…” I was at a loss as to how to answer her. “I honestly

don’t know. I’ve only just met him.”

What class was he? Where did he live? Who was his Master? The

questions came thick and fast, and the only answer I could offer was

a vague shake of my head.

“Huh? So you’re telling me he’s some sort of stray Servant?”

“I…I suppose he must be.”

I had finally regained enough strength to sit upright, and I looked

down.

The back of my hand remained devoid of Command Seals. Just as it had

always been, ever since the day I was born.