V1C4

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Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the

Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura,

since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a

preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from

the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located,

and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley

lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and

duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a

nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not

even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long

as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less

blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help

me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running

away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was

worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut

told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was

merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya.

It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don’t you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and

it’ll become real, and then who’ll have to deal with it? It’ll be…

actually, I suppose it won’t be me. Not any more.

—-

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to

wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we

went, we found faint traces of Chitose’s presence. It crossed my mind

more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran’s interest, but over

time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences

that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters

and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along

to a shop geared towards those ‘otaku’. It was crammed to the rafters

with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all

manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of

looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate

with him.

Maybe it’s because they’re all manufactured goods. Perhaps it’s

originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though

squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we

passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a

different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the

planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over

a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye… it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet’s so big. It’s so big…”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over

his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I’m surprised you know that word.” Had he picked

it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially

talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn’t

just making it up? Or maybe… no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That’s a very old photograph. From

before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn’t there any more.

It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I

hadn’t exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found

myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara,

bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm

the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a

skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick

exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the

ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here

was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the

people’s right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu

had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not

two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs.

Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they

could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to

come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be

refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of

course. That being said…

“How long’s it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were

still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum’s

myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have

started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but

it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the

top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We’re going in,

you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don’t want to wait a bit

longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I’m sure! Never should’ve invited you anyway, you lousy

no-show son of a…”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar

player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to

start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched

the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been

reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a

few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime

in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy

air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called

out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail

Tournament? Maybe the halftime show’ll give you some tips on how not

to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain’t got no need for that, little missy. I’m happy as long as I’m

getting’ through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you’re some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why

don’t you just go the whole way and die young while you’re at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had

ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it

squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous

surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning

it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn’t so

insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She

stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by

the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the

Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the

staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body

searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging

down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard

not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel

dotted around the stadium.

I’m glad they didn’t try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the

reservations got us through…

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal

hadn’t gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that

the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and

acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow.

Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of

peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn’t be long until the circu-

Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a

stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out

though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd… Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament

merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was

ready for the show.

I couldn’t stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me

and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the

tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not

twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she

rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open

in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for

Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half

of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium

increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed

we’d timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent.

Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us,

eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the

patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A

diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of

feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up

of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed

around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to

the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That’s right! We’re all

setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your

guide!”

She stoked the crowd’s excitement, and they answered with a deafening

roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with

the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now,

before we meet all our brave warriors, I’d like to introduce our

commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the

audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among

scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only

Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That’s me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not

seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let’s move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that’s all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals!

The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend

and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius

Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle

of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he

rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to

attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to

commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that… Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he

cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to

commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with

the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch

emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator’s

desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to

your favourite team! If you’re feeling peckish, why not try some

delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was

grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants’ pride

and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much

was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel

more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn’t even begun yet, and I

had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won’t

be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what

I could learn about Koharu’s mysterious Possession ability. I had

also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of

her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and

the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible

power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and

terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so

destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true

sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from

previous generations or developed through special training, and it

went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The

mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and

was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more

than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort.

However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger

scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter

entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill

a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were

Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because

they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical

abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen

simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to

determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the

enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly

pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran’s.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The

battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred

metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated

semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the

centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical

precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it,

and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in

the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of

the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second,

like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down

into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats

and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves

into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage

equipment… although perhaps it was best not to think about the

enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water’s surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we’ve kept you waiting long

enough! Let’s get this naumachia started! We know you’re tired

of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we’d change things

up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our

brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the

high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the

Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha!

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the

Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that’s not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There’s

not a man west of Austria who doesn’t know his name: the Grand Master

of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the

crowd’s excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined

up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The

mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say

“Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto

Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field

today? I’m sure the other side won’t be showing much quarter, so look

forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding

to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to

wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young

girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn’t been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune’s Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy

facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be

nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other

Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them

were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart’s Turkish March

playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced

with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail

Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little

corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it

up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome’s worst nightmare! At his back, the souls

of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the

Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle

garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I

had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same

man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in

his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of

Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with

thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a

small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her

shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared

keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips.

He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a

routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I’m sure you all remember!

None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm!

Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards,

and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin

rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her

excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates,

but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates,

outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into

everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were

exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for

them here, where they could put their talents to use while also

entertaining the populace. However…

“I know it’s just a mock battle, but don’t you think this seems

really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea.

Hannibal’s famous for his war elephants, but he can’t even use them

on the water.”

“Haven’t been reading up, eh Eri? Here’s a flyer for you. See? Says

right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a

land battle. There’s your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle,

but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect

script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was

looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much

so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with

dawning realisation. I felt as though I’d grown a little closer to

understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary

power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

—-

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction

be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the

interference of the crowd around me.

I’m being watched. No doubt about it. There’s something else, too.

A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings’ warning came to mind. Someone I’d previously

crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to

forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted

throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly

blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn’t seem right…

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of

wrongness back to its source… and happened to catch a snippet of

conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it’s around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose’s house was

in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in

front’s phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal

network.

“What on earth…?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human

figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to

toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued

calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and

their skin charred with the flames’ caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train

brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

-

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd.

It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of

spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin,

too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“They say there’s been some kinda 'pedestrian accident’ in front of

Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross… Oh. Ew.

I’m not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell’s going

on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh…”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of

death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath

my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I’d gotten them under control…

-

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest

threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the

partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents

concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than

I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps

the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as

much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to

worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You’re going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but…

there’s something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by

her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her

newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just

as I made to leave, Karin’s phone buzzed with a notification, and she

pulled it out.

“Who’s texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It’s that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

—-

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While

still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches

modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away

in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena.

Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late

customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the

storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What’s even the point of coming here?,

I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I’d hit upon

earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail

Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of

thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing

battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been

a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and

it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a

reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the

colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They

draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more

fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature

– and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were

occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent

Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn’t help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems

might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

-

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It’s important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I

wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall,

dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the

events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

-

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the

witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to

look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal,

the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his

belt, and without a moment’s hesitation thrust it deep into the chest

of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid’s face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded

on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his

bloodstained sword from his ally’s chest, and without a care for the

man’s protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat,

to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.