Chapter 1: Director, Lancer Just Busted the Light

Chapter 1: Director, Lancer Just Busted the Light

The winter moon hung bright and unclouded over Fuyuki City, bathing the streets in cold, silver light. A picture of quiet beauty. Stillness. Peace.

But beneath that tranquil moonlight… chaos was unfolding.

Thud!

Crash!

“Guh—!”

Emiya Shirou scrambled through the warehouse on all fours, frantically scanning the area for anything he could use as a weapon.

But the man chasing him wasn’t about to give him that chance.

“End of the line already?”

A flash of crimson light split the air.

A scarlet spear whistled forward, brimming with killing intent—aimed straight at Shirou.

"This—guy—!"

At the last second, Shirou unfolded a metallic poster rod and used it as a makeshift shield.

CLANG!

“Ahhh—!”

He screamed as the spear pierced through the poster, shredding it like paper and sending him crashing into a lighting rig.

CRACK!

The rig went dark, the warehouse dimming further as sparks crackled and died.

Shirou hit the floor hard, sliding backward until he slammed against the wall.

“...Hah...hah...”

He gritted his teeth and clutched his chest, trying to breathe through the sharp pain. As he looked up, desperate to grab anything he could use to fight—

"It's over. You really startled me just now, kid."

Standing before him was a man clad in a tight, cobalt-blue combat suit, wielding a long crimson spear. His weapon's tip hovered mere inches from Shirou’s heart.

“...”

Shirou could only stare, breathless and defeated. The world narrowed down to that spearhead gleaming in the dark.

“Guess I’ll finish it here, then.”

The man’s hand moved.

A silver flash screamed toward his heart.

"Don't joke around–! How could I possibly—"

At that moment, on the edge of death, Shirou roared with every ounce of his soul.

"—meaninglessly die here!"

And fate answered.

A magic circle ignited beneath him, glowing bright with otherworldly light.

“Wait— is that—?!”

A blinding flash filled the warehouse.

When the light faded, a girl stood between Shirou and death—a girl in blue armor, radiant and unshakable.

CLANG!

Whatever she held in her hand smashed the red spear aside, deflecting it cleanly, and without hesitation, she launched herself toward the spearman.

“No way— is this the Seventh Servant?!”

Man and girl clashed in a spray of sparks, his spear meeting her unknown weapon with a thunderous crash.

Clicking his tongue, the man realized the warehouse gave his opponent the upper hand. He pulled back without hesitation and vanished into the shadows beyond the entrance.

The armored girl didn’t give chase. She stood there in the pale light, slowly turning to face Shirou.

Bathed in moonlight, she looked divine. Regal. Untouchably beautiful.

“...”

Shirou couldn’t speak.

She was too beautiful.

Too unreal.

Her jewel-toned eyes locked with his, cold and unreadable.

They stared at each other for what felt like forever.

Then, tilting her head slightly, the girl spoke in a clear, emotionless voice.

“Ano… Master. Lancer just broke the light. Do we need to retake the shot?”

A few meters away, a blue-haired boy in a director’s chair groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Cut!” he snapped, raising his megaphone. “Yeah, there’s no way we can use that take.”

Waving his hand, he signaled the rest of the film crew to pause their work.

“Everyone reset the stage! We’ll do it again in a few minutes!”

Director Shinji Matou stood up from his chair and strode into the middle of the set, casually offering a hand to Shirou.

“Thanks, Shinji,” Shirou said, smiling as he brushed dust off his clothes.

“No problem. Go change, we’ve got a bit of time before we’re rolling again.”

Shinji rested a hand under his chin as he studied the armored girl before him. His sharp eyes gleamed with something between amusement and scrutiny.

“Alright.” 

Shirou, catching on, gave a small nod. He knew Shinji wanted to speak to Arturia privately—so he made himself scarce and left the set without a word.

As soon as they were alone, the girl stepped forward.

“Master, do you have business with me?”

Her voice was calm, clipped, and direct. The kind of tone you’d expect from a career soldier—not a young girl barely reaching Shinji’s shoulder.

Shinji gave a nod. “Yeah. Your expression just now? It was great. You had a strong presence on camera. Let’s keep that same energy when we re-shoot the scene.”

“Is that so? Thank you for the compliment.”

Arturia nodded politely. Even when praised, her face barely changed—cool and composed as always.

Seeing his own Servant acting so serious, Shinji, who had originally just wanted to give her a few pointers, suddenly had the irresistible urge to tease her.

“Saber, come over here a sec.”

“Is there something else, Master?”

She stepped closer, face still utterly blank.

This version of Arturia—classic ahoge King Arthur—stood at a modest 154 centimeters. Her head barely reached Shinji’s shoulder. From the outside, she looked like a delicate, petite girl.

But of course, this was the same girl who once bore the weight of an entire kingdom on her back. That contrast was what made her character so iconic.

Still… Shinji had a vision.

He wanted Saber to show more than just the knightly stoicism. Maybe not full-on Saber Lily levels of sweetness, but at least a little more girlish charm.

‘Otherwise the marketing team’s going to have a meltdown at the press events…’

Shinji sighed, then lifted his trusty megaphone.

And, with zero warning—

“Donk!”

—he bopped her right on the head.

Arturia blinked, confused. “Master, do you… often strike your Servant for no reason?”

Shinji just leaned in, pressing the megaphone lightly to her forehead and twisting it in slow, teasing circles.

“Saber, I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?”

His voice took on a mock-stern tone.

“As long as I haven’t yelled ‘Cut,’ you keep acting. No breaking character—unless you're literally bleeding.”

Arturia tilted her head. “Now that you mention it... that does sound vaguely familiar… Apologies, Master. I made a mistake.”

“...”

Shinji’s expression twitched. That tone. That deadpan delivery. There was no remorse in it whatsoever.

‘Alright… you’ve left me no choice. Time for the trump card.’

Lowering the megaphone, Shinji gently brushed her cheek with his hand. His expression shifted into something... wicked.

“I believe in you, my dear King Arthur. You’ll remember everything your director says… and follow it to the letter, won’t you?”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and added with a smirk:

“Otherwise... I’ll use a Command Seal to ban you from eating snacks on set.”

Arturia instantly recoiled a step.

“What?! Tha— that’s not fair, Master! That’s just underhanded!”

For the first time, her face showed something other than stoic grace. There was panic in her eyes.

Shinji couldn’t help but smile.

Even if it was only a flicker—he had cracked the ice.

‘Girls like her really are the most satisfying to tease. Cold, dignified… but once you peel back that layer and expose their hidden feminine side…’

‘Priceless.’

“Well then, Saber. Your answer?”

Shinji’s voice was sweet, but his grin was anything but.

“I... I understand,” she muttered.

Clearly reluctant—but for the sake of snacks, the proud King of Knights surrendered to Shinji’s underhanded tactics.

“That’s the spirit~”

Shinji chuckled as he ruffled her hair like she was a pet, channeling every ounce of smug older-brother energy he’d learned from his cunning little sister.

“Seriously… what kind of lowlife threatens their Servant over snacks...” Arturia muttered, pouting faintly as she turned her face away.

Arturia slapped Shinji’s hand off with an annoyed pout, then stomped over to the break area and tore open a bag of snacks like a sulking child. She started munching angrily, stuffing chips into her mouth as if exacting vengeance through calories.

Shinji chuckled.

‘As expected, the ‘glutton’ trait really is hardwired into Arturia’s character.’

Wham

Suddenly, a firm hand clamped down on Shinji’s shoulder.

It was Lancer—Cu Chulainn, grinning like a mischievous older brother. His teasing gaze practically screamed:

“Yo, seriously? Bullying a girl now, Master?”

“You’ve got no right to laugh!”

Shinji snapped, spinning around and delivering a swift kick to Lancer’s rear.

“And you! I told you not to go full force when sparring with Shirou! You actually broke the damn spotlight! You want me to dock your pay?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Master.”

Despite nodding along, Lancer’s usual roguish smile never left his face—leaving Shinji to wonder whether the blue-haired troublemaker took anything seriously at all.

Still, if nothing else, the Servants’ stunt work was phenomenal. Their combat scenes looked amazing on camera.

Every time Shinji watched playback, he felt more and more convinced he’d made the right choice summoning Heroic Spirits… for filmmaking.

“…If only their basic acting skills weren’t all over the place.”

He sighed again, dragging a hand through his hair.

Ever since the start of production, these walking legends had caused nothing but chaos on set.

And yet—

“Well, here’s hoping they get better as we go.”

With a wave, he sent Arturia and Lancer off to prep for the next take. Then he moved to the edge of the set, eyes scanning the rebuilt warehouse interior.

After all, details made or broke a film—and for Shinji, this wasn’t just any film.

It was his first movie.

A project that might just reach screens across the world.

He had to make it perfect.

“…What a bunch of high-maintenance weirdos. Heroic Spirits really are just gifted problem children.”

Shinji tapped his megaphone against his shoulder, face weary.

“Man, Shinji. Being a director suits you, but it looks like a real pain,”

A voice called out to him—Shirou, now back in costume and fully reset for filming. He walked over with a wry smile.

“Spare me the fake sympathy.”

Shinji scoffed, glaring at him.

“I’m not going easy on you just because we’re friends.”

“Haha~ Harsh as ever.”

Shirou just shrugged, unfazed. His familiar laid-back grin never left his face.

“Still, I kinda expected all this. The work, the chaos... If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have started filming in the first place.”

Shinji didn’t reply at first. He just stood there, tapping his megaphone slowly, gazing out over the bustling film set.

“…Got confidence?”

Shirou turned to ask.

Shinji smiled—calm, composed, and full of that same absurd belief in himself as always.

“Of course. This is the beginning of something great. A project that could change the world for magus like us.”

Shirou glanced at his childhood friend, a hint of admiration flickering in his eyes.

“You really are confident, huh. I always wonder where you get that from.”

Shinji gave a smug little shrug, then flashed a cryptic grin.

“Probably… because I’m a genius?”

He walked off without waiting for a response, climbing up onto the camera dolly’s rail platform.

Then, raising his megaphone, Shinji began the reset.

“Let’s go again. Back to the previous camera angle. All departments—report in!”

“Props?”

“OK!”

“Set dressing?”

“OK!”

“Lighting?”

“OK!”

…

“Final checks complete. Stand by…”

Shinji reached for a red baseball cap handed to him by Sakura, turned it backward on his head, and raised his megaphone.

“Fate/stay night. Scene 4, Take 35— Action!”

Clack

With the snap of the clapperboard, the most iconic scene in all of Type-Moon history began once more—reborn through Shinji’s lens.

Moonlight spilled into the warehouse.

A knight in shining armor stood amidst the dust and silence—bathed in silver light, beautiful and noble beyond words.

And then—came the line.

The one engraved in every Type-Moon fan’s DNA.

"Servant, Saber. I have come forth in response to your summons."

“I ask you—are you my Master?”