Chapter 8: ――――Projection, Complete

Just like yesterday, I woke up in the storehouse. When I stepped outside, sure enough, the sound of bamboo swords clashing echoed from the dojo. Peeking in, I saw Saber and Archer in the middle of training.

“…Huh?”

As I watched, I felt a strange sense of unease.

It was surprising enough that Saber’s movements had improved so drastically—but more than that, what shocked me was Archer’s technique.

I’d seen Archer fight twice before. Once at school, and once at the Emiya residence. In both instances, he fought wielding twin swords. Judging by the masterful way he used them, it was clear that his greatest strength lay in that dual-blade style.

And yet, right now, Archer was handling a bamboo sword—a long one—with absolute perfection. It wasn’t just that he could use it; he wielded it as if this, this was his strongest style. The level of technique he displayed proclaimed it as his own.

But that didn’t make sense. Archer’s strongest form should be the dual-blade combat he always used. A clean, direct style of slicing through the opponent—that was more like…

“…Saber’s sword technique?”

That’s right—I’d seen the original version of that sword style once before. During the fight with Berserker, when Saber used a Command Spell to draw on the soul of King Arthur, I witnessed that swordsmanship.

Apparently, Archer was mimicking that very style to help Saber learn it for herself.

But still, it didn’t add up. Can anyone really replicate such advanced swordplay after seeing it just once? That kind of feat would take me a lifetime of training to even approach. That’s what I honestly thought.

If Archer really had copied it perfectly after only one viewing, then even as a Heroic Spirit, that was beyond belief. It would take a level of skill comparable to a sword saint. And yet, such a being wouldn’t be summoned as an Archer. There’s no way someone with the ultimate sword technique would also be a master marksman to the extent of being classified as an archer. That sounds like something out of a child’s fantasy.

“…Yeah. That guy…”

There was no longer any doubt. He knows Saber—no, he knows King Arthur. Maybe he’s even one of the famous Knights of the Round Table. He must have witnessed the king’s swordplay countless times to be able to mimic it that perfectly…

By taking that sword technique head-on, Saber had grown tremendously—her improvement since yesterday’s training was night and day.

In the end, she never managed to land a single strike on Archer. But her technique was already far beyond an ordinary person’s.

“――――Nice work, Saber.”

After Archer ended the session and disappeared, I handed Saber a towel and a bottle of water.

“Thank you, Shirou-kun.”

She didn’t look tired at all, but she drank the water with genuine satisfaction.

“He’s an excellent teacher.”

Saber praised Archer wholeheartedly.

“I was once in a kendo club, but even compared to back then, the rate I’m improving is completely different. It’s strange—his teaching just… clicks with me.”

Seeing Saber’s excited expression, I decided to share the theory I’d just come up with about Archer’s identity. Her face grew a little more serious.

“…Well, whatever he is, there’s no doubt that he knew King Arthur. So that sword technique he taught me—it really was Arthur’s, huh? No wonder it felt so familiar.”

Saber stood and gave her bamboo sword a swing.

“…Shirou-kun. I’m not King Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hino Sato. That’s my name.”

“Yeah, I know that too.”

“But the soul of King Arthur resides inside me. If I can learn to master that power―――”

“…Saber.”

I cut her off and said,

“I’ll get stronger too.”

“Shirou-kun…?”

I picked up the bamboo sword Archer had left behind.

“Let’s get stronger together, Saber.”

“Um… Shouldn’t we start getting ready for school――――”

“I’m skipping today.”

“…You really lit a fire under yourself, huh.”

Saber smiled wryly as I pointed the sword at her.

“Then let’s go!”

“…Ah—hold on a second.”

Just as she was about to respond, Saber suddenly walked over to the edge of the dojo and picked up a wooden sword.

“――――Shirou-kun. If we’re doing this, try using this instead.”

What she brought over was a short wooden sword. It wasn’t for kids. In kendo, there’s actually a two-sword style. This short sword was meant for that, and Taiga had brought it here a long time ago for training purposes.

Normally, dual-wielding in kendo involves one long and one short sword. But Saber had brought over two short ones. There was only one reason why.

“…Saber?”

“It’s just a thought――――”

She added a quick preface, then continued.

“Since we’ve got a top-tier swordsman right here, I figured… why not use him as a model? The technique I’m learning is meant for King Arthur, and I’m not strong enough yet to teach you anything myself.”

“…Right. His sword style, huh.”

I closed my eyes and recalled the swordsmanship Archer had shown. It was a level of skill so great, I couldn’t possibly imitate it. Even though he’s classified as an archer, he moved like someone who could be called a master swordsman.

I gave the sword a light swing, and strangely enough, it felt lighter than usual in my hands.

“――――Alright. Let’s do a light sparring match, Saber.”

“Yeah, come at me, Shirou-kun. Just so you know, thanks to Archer, I’m actually pretty strong right now.”

Saber smirked confidently. We faced each other, matching our breaths.

I wouldn’t be the one to strike first. Archer’s sword style was a defensive one—construct an unbreakable guard and wait for a narrow opening. In a way, it was a form fitting for an archer who deals in precision.

Saber moved. If Archer’s style was defense, then the king’s swordsmanship that Saber was learning was pure offense. Her strikes came like a raging storm.

I thought she’d improved, but taking her on directly… I was speechless at how refined her technique had become.

“Hearing it was King Arthur’s sword style, something clicked.”

Saber said mid-combat.

“Archer was probably using a skill called ‘Clairvoyance,’ but this technique was originally designed to be used with ‘Instinct.’ That’s why he kept pointing out how I needed to refine that skill.”

The skill Instinct—one of Saber’s inherent abilities. In battle, it allowed her to sense the optimal path forward, like a sharpened sixth sense bordering on precognition.

A sword technique built around that kind of ability.

“Damn it, no way I’m losing!”

Every time I went on the offensive, my strikes were knocked aside before they could land with any weight behind them. Then a lightning-fast counter would come, making my heart skip a beat. Each attack doubled as a perfect defense—Saber’s sword left no openings. It was terrifying how flawless her form was. The fact I was defending at all felt like a miracle.

Archer’s sword technique, designed to counter every type of attack, had been honed to eliminate all waste and move with precision and grace. Without mimicking his style, I would’ve been overwhelmed by Saber in seconds.

But strangely… even though Archer’s technique didn’t reach the divine level of King Arthur’s, it still felt incredible. So why did it feel so… natural to me? As if this style had been made for me?

We became so engrossed in the match that we forgot the passage of time. With each clash, it felt like our skills were being sharpened further.

I’d sparred with Taiga more times than I could count—and lost every single time. I’d never once thought fighting was fun. But this… this was different. This back-and-forth with Saber, I didn’t want it to end. I could’ve done this forever.

“Saber!”

“Shirou!”

In the end, it was already noon by the time their sparring ended. Drenched in sweat and lying flat on the floor, Shirou was greeted by Saber, who brought him water filled with ice.

“Good work. That was actually… fun.”

“Yeah, seriously… It’s been a long time since I got so caught up in something and actually enjoyed it.”

Not playing with friends, not club activities, not hobbies, not even training in magecraft or doing housework—none of that had ever felt this fun.

As someone who aspired to be a champion of justice, he wondered if it was really okay to feel joy from improving a skill meant to hurt others. But… it had been fun. He couldn’t help it.

“You should take a shower.”

“You go first, Saber. I’ll just rest here a little longer.”

“Really? Then I’ll gladly take you up on that.”

“Oh, and… later, wanna go to the shopping district for a change of pace? Honestly… I don’t have the energy to cook lunch right now.”

“Agreed. Show me a good place to eat.”

“Got it. I’ll narrow down a few options.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Well, I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.”

After Saber headed toward the main house, Shirou started thinking about which restaurant to take her to.

If he was going to do this, he wanted it to be somewhere really good. A place so delicious, it might just make her feel that living in this world wasn’t so bad after all…

“…That’s right. If I just get stronger, everything will fall into place.”

Clenching his fist tightly, Shirou muttered:

“Strong enough… to never lose to anyone…”

---

“So, where are we going?”

Saber asked as they walked side by side.

“What do you like, Saber? I’ll go with whatever fits your taste.”

“My preferences? Hmm… I generally like spicy food. So maybe curry or Chinese would be good.”

“Spicy, huh…”

Shirou’s face darkened for a moment.

“Ah, no, if you’re not good with spicy stuff, Shirou-kun, we can go somewhere else. I like Western food too. After I got into university and started working part-time, I’d go out and eat around town once a month. Some of the Italian and Russian cuisine I tried was incredible. Have you ever had escargot?”

“Escargot? You mean snails, right? Hmm… not exactly something that shows up at our dinner table often.”

“Then this is the perfect chance. Let’s go to an Italian place that probably serves escargot. I really want you to try it, Shirou-kun.”

Plans were starting to veer off course. Saber, it turned out, was more of a gourmet than expected. Maybe it was time to go big—to make an impact with a bold choice…

“Actually, let’s go with Chinese after all.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t that hard for you to handle…?”

“It’s fine. Let’s go. I’ll show you a place that’ll blow your mind.”

Honestly, that place was nothing but trauma to him. It was the last restaurant he’d ever want to recommend to someone. But if he wanted to impress a gourmet like Saber, it had to be somewhere exceptional.

He had no choice but to bet everything on that restaurant.

“…Huh?”

Saber suddenly stopped in her tracks. When Shirou turned to look, he saw a familiar girl standing in the distance, just within Saber’s line of sight.

The girl hadn’t noticed them. If they wanted to, they could walk away without being seen. But...

“I think you should go.”

Saber spoke with a wry smile, despite Shirou saying nothing.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“…Sorry, Saber. I need to make a quick detour.”

He approached the girl quietly and spoke to her gently.

“――――Illya.”

“W-Who!?”

“It’s me.”

“S-Shirou…? Wait, really? Shirou?”

Illya’s face showed pure shock, and Shirou let out a soft laugh.

“I just happened to see you while passing by, so I called out. Actually, I’d been hoping to see you again.”

“Eh…?”

Illya blinked wide-eyed in surprise.

“Why…? I’m trying to kill you, you know? So why would you say you wanted to see me…?”

“I don’t know. If you ask me that directly, I don’t really have an answer. I just… wanted to talk with you. Not as a Master. Just… as yourself.”

“You mean, talk… normally?”

“Yeah. That’s all. Just a normal conversation. You said Masters don’t fight during the daytime, right? Then I don’t see any harm in forgetting about the Holy Grail War for a little while. Let’s leave the killing and not-killing stuff out of it. I just want to talk like we did yesterday.”

“Um… well… I guess, just for a little bit… that might be okay.”

And so, Shirou and Illya spent some time chatting idly about nothing in particular.

Saber watched them from a short distance, smiling warmly at the sight.

After about an hour, Illya’s stomach gave an audible growl.

“…Was that…?”

“T-That wasn’t me! That was—”

“It was mine, Shirou-kun.”

Illya, her face flushed red, shook her head in denial as Saber offered her a can of juice.

“You talked a lot. Aren’t you thirsty?”

“…I don’t want it.”

Illya’s tone turned cold, a complete shift from earlier.

“H-Hey, Illya—”

“Wait, Shirou-kun.”

Saber cut Shirou off before he could interfere and apologized to Illya.

“Looks like I butted in where I shouldn’t have. Sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“…Whatever.”

Illya pouted, clearly irritated about being cut off mid-conversation.

“…Hey, Illya, wanna come too?”

“Come where?”

Illya tilted her head, and Shirou explained that he and Saber were about to go out for a meal together.

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. The place they were headed could very well leave a traumatic mark on someone as young as Illya.

“I mean, if it’s too much, it’s fine… You probably have other things to do anyway—”

“Sure, I’ll come.”

Illya agreed without hesitation.

“Uh… really?”

“Yes. You went out of your way to invite me, Shirou. I’m not thrilled about a third wheel being there, but I’ll put up with it.”

Shirou realized his carefully laid plans were collapsing. At this point, the guest of honor had no choice but to be Illya.

“So, where are we going?”

“Oh, Shirou-kun said he’d take me to his favorite Chinese place—”

“N-No, actually, let’s go somewhere else today.”

“Huh? Why!?”

Illya’s voice rose in protest.

“So you’re willing to show Saber your special spot, but not me?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant! I just thought… it might not really suit your tastes… it’s not that good or anything…”

“What? You said it was your top pick, so I was kinda looking forward to it…”

Crap. He tried to pacify Illya, and now he’d let Saber down too.

“N-No, that’s not it! Look, Saber, you like spicy food, right? But Illya might—”

“Oh please, I can handle spicy just fine.”

Jesus. The more he tried to talk, the deeper he dug his own grave.

In the end, Shirou had no choice but to take both of them to the traumatic Chinese restaurant.

The only Chinese place on Mount Miyama, known as Koushu Ensaikan Taizan. Despite it being peak lunchtime, its shuttered windows made it impossible to see inside, driving away any first-timers. It was infamously known in the shopping district as a den of horrors.

He often ran into its enigmatic Chinese owner, Batsu-san, affectionately nicknamed the “Little Boss,” during neighborhood volunteer events. But ever since the day he saw the contents of her “cross pot,” he’d sworn never to approach within ten meters of her restaurant.

Today, he would break that vow.

“Let me warn you both in advance.”

“What is it, Shirou-kun?”

“What’s wrong, Shirou?”

“At this place, you must not order anything except the sweet-and-sour sauce dishes.”

“Ehh? But I want some green pepper steak!”

“I was hoping for mapo tofu… wait, are we short on money or something—?”

“Ah.”

“N-No! It’s not about the money!”

He quickly tried to reassure the two, who now looked heartbroken.

“A-Anyway, you’ll understand once we’re inside! Let’s go!”

He had no choice. The only way now was to show them directly. Worst case, if they couldn’t eat it, he’d take care of all three portions. Here, leaving food behind wasn’t an option. Until it was all gone, no one was allowed to leave.

“L-Let’s go!”

This was a battlefield. He had to brace himself like a soldier going to war.

“Y-You’re really fired up, Shirou.”

“I… I don’t get it, but I guess we better steel ourselves too, Illyasviel.”

“Y-Yeah, Saber…”

For some reason, he felt like they were pulling away from him, but he couldn’t afford to care.

“Let’s do this!”

As soon as they entered, the manager darted out at lightning speed. Before they knew it, they were seated and handed menus.

Now, the sweet-and-sour section…

“No… It’s not here…?”

Cold sweat started forming on his brow. Nowhere. Nowhere to be found. His fingers trembled as he turned the pages.

“W-What’s wrong, Shirou?”

“S-Shirou-kun?”

“Just wait a second!!”

He kept searching. It had to be there. It was there last time!

“H-Hey, Batsu-san! What happened to the sweet-and-sour dishes!?”

“Ah, I took them off menu, aru.”

He couldn’t believe his ears.

“N-No way—”

This was bad. If it’s come to this, he’d grovel if he had to. He’d drag the two of them somewhere else—yes, to a fancy Italian restaurant. He’d spend every last yen to give them a proper meal—

“One order of mapo tofu, shrimp in chili sauce, green pepper steak, and ramen. Got it. And for you, Shirou-kun—?”

“Why did you order so muchhhh!?”

He looked up to find the two had already finished ordering.

Illya turned to him with a warm, gentle smile—like an older sister trying to console her fussy little brother.

“It’s okay. I’ll treat you today, so just go ahead and order whatever you want, Shirou.”

And for some reason, that made tears sting Shirou’s eyes.

“…White rice.”

“Shirou-kun?”

“I just want white rice!”

Saber and Illya looked at each other. They could read each other’s thoughts without saying a word.

“R-Right! White rice, of course! You’re Japanese after all!”

“Y-Yes, being Japanese, white rice is a non-negotiable, right!”

A few minutes later, the dishes arrived.

Illya and Saber were stunned into silence.

“…What is this.”

Illya looked completely pale at the sight of the crimson liquid before her.

“…Ah, I get it now. So this is the place…”

Saber narrowed her eyes, seemingly having reached some revelation.

Both took a small taste—and instantly understood.

“…Shirou. Are you trying to kill me by feeding me pig slop?”

Illya smiled sweetly.

“No, if you eat this stuff, you will die. Even pigs would—”

Saber gave a baffled response to Illya’s cutting words.

“It’s okay, you two.”

To their shock, Shirou flashed them a strangely radiant smile.

“S-Shirou-kun?”

“W-What are you planning, Shirou…?”

That expression—he looked just like the Son of God walking toward the hill of crucifixion. The two girls reached out toward Shirou. But Shirou brushed their hands away and picked up the spoon.

“No, don’t do it, Shirou!”

“W-Wait, hold on, Shirou-kun!”

Ignoring the girls’ desperate pleas, the boy pressed onward—down a crimson-colored path straight to hell.

“――――――――!”

Letting out a scream beyond words, Shirou began leaking some unidentifiable fluid from every orifice, yet still brought the spoon to his lips. Watching this, Saber and Illya silently shed tears.

“…As your Servant, I’ll follow you too, Shirou-kun.”

“…Honestly, there’s no helping you, Shirou.”

Exchanging a glance, the two of them picked up their own spoons. Realizing it at the last second, Shirou tried to stop them, but his mouth was numb—he was too late.

“――――――――!”

“――――――――!”

Their voiceless cries rang out.

In the end, Shirou somehow managed to finish the mapo tofu, shrimp in chili sauce, and ramen. Illya and Saber barely made it through the green pepper steak.

Even with the endurance of heroic spirits, the onslaught from Taizan’s Chinese cuisine dealt devastating damage. The three of them staggered out of the restaurant, bought drinkable yogurt from the nearest convenience store, and downed it all in one go.

“…Saber was right. My mouth feels… slightly better.”

Shirou’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips swollen—his face looked like someone entirely different.

“…Let’s never go back to that warzone again, Shirou-kun.”

Saber was gently wiping the sweat from Illya’s forehead with the wet tissues she had bought together with the yogurt.

“…You idiot, Shirou. A place like that… that…”

“No, really, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking… Of all places, taking you two to Taizan… Let me make it up to you next time, okay?”

Shirou bowed his head deeply. Saber and Illya exchanged bitter smiles. Having shared the torment that was Taizan, a strange kind of bond had formed between them.

“Next time, take us somewhere proper, Shirou. Otherwise, I’m not forgiving you.”

“Y-Yeah! I’ll find a place that’s actually good next time!”

“I’m counting on you. Well, it’s about time to head home. I’ll see you later. Bye-bye, Shirou, Saber.”

Shirou and Saber watched quietly as Illya ran off.

Once she was out of sight, Saber spoke.

“By the way, what exactly was your reasoning for picking that restaurant?”

It was a sincere question. Shirou looked away, eyes darting as he answered.

“…Mind taking a walk with me?”

“…Sure.”

He led Saber toward the river. He wanted to talk somewhere quiet.

They reached the riverside and sat down on a bench. For a while, they just stared at the surface of the water.

“…You said before there’s no other choice but to disappear, right?”

“…Ah, that. There’s nothing that can be done, so you don’t have to worry yourself over it, Shirou-kun—”

“I don’t like it.”

Shirou cut her off, stating it clearly.

“Shirou-kun…”

“I don’t want you to disappear, Saber.”

“…Just so you know, I’m a guy. On the inside.”

“I know. I’m not saying this because you’re in a girl’s body or anything. At first, I just couldn’t accept the fact that we were dragged into this Holy Grail War and that you’d have to disappear because of it. But now… it’s not just about that.”

Shirou’s gaze sharpened.

“Saber, you’re not a stranger anymore. I just genuinely don’t want you to disappear.”

“Shirou-kun… But the only way I can survive in this world—”

“I just have to get stronger.”

Shirou said it plainly.

“Even if you return to your original form, I’ll still protect you… I’ll protect you, Hino.”

“…That means a lot to me, Shirou-kun.”

But Saber looked down.

“That would mean asking a great deal from you.”

“Something like that—”

“It would drastically alter your future. You’d have to give up a lot, and it would be dangerous. You might end up fighting both the Mage’s Association and the Church. I don’t want to put you in that kind of position.”

Saber spoke quietly.

“I don’t think of you as a stranger anymore either, Shirou-kun. I’m here because I truly want to protect you. That’s why—”

“But still—”

Their voices abruptly cut off. A sudden chill washed over them.

“Saber. That just now…”

“A scream…”

At some point, night had fallen. They’d lost more time than expected at Taizan.

They started running toward the source of the scream. There was no hesitation—the magical energy was overwhelming.

Death awaited ahead. That much was certain. They should’ve run away. Should’ve gotten Saber to safety.

But if they ran… what would happen to the one who screamed?

If they left that person to die, something inside them would surely break. That’s how it felt. And so, Shirou ran, without thinking.

“…This place is…”

It was a park. The air was thick with a sickly-sweet, stagnant presence.

"That thing—"

Before he realized it, Saber had already stepped forward, fully armed. Her face was twisted with fear and fury.

A few moments later, Shirou also took in the scene—and felt a wave of nausea rise up.

A woman in black robes had her mouth pressed against the neck of an unconscious girl, just like a vampire.

She was feeding on her—not on flesh, but on something deeper. Her spirit. Her soul. Her very life force.

"Emiya, huh…? Skipping school to wander around a place like this at this hour—you’re a bad boy."

"...Wait—Shinji?"

Standing there was Matou Shinji, their classmate. As his surname implied, he was Sakura’s older brother and, to Shirou, an old friend.

Shirou couldn't immediately comprehend why someone like him was here, of all places.

"What’s the matter? You’re frozen. Two Servants meeting like this—there’s only one thing to do, right? I even set the stage to make it obvious for you, since you're slow. Don’t just stand there gaping."

His voice, which Shirou was so used to hearing, now grated against his ears.

"...You made her do this?"

Shirou’s voice trembled as he asked. Shinji let out a chuckle.

"God, you really are an idiot. Servants eat people. That’s just what they do. Surely you get that by now?"

Shirou felt his rage boiling over.

"Not that I like it. These things... they’ve got no manners. But they can’t survive without mana, so what can you do? You’re out here too, aren’t you—hunting for prey to feed your Servant?"

"Shinji... move. I’m taking that woman to a hospital."

Shirou spoke firmly. Shinji laughed like he’d just heard the joke of the century.

"A hospital? You think a hospital can help her? If you really want to save her, you're looking in the wrong place. You don’t even get that much? You’re beyond clueless."

He held up a strange book.

"Die with that dumb look on your face."

“Shirou-kun, get back—!”

Saber launched forward. The woman in black clashed with her, and the battle began.

But Saber couldn’t win—not in her current state. If no one stopped her, she would die. Yet if Shirou fled and left Saber behind, the unconscious woman would never be saved.

If he wanted to rescue her, he'd have to let Saber buy time with her life and escape with the woman.

Save one, and the other dies.

That was the choice laid before him—a merciless, instant ultimatum. There was no way he could choose so easily.

Paralyzed, tangled in doubt, he searched for a solution. A way to save both of them. There was only one.

"...I need strength. I need power, right now."

He wanted to protect Saber.

He wanted to save that woman.

To do both, he needed power—something to overturn this entire situation.

"—Give me strength, here and now!"

Someone like him, still so inexperienced, couldn’t resolve this with bare hands. He needed a weapon. Not a wooden sword or bamboo practice blade, but something strong—something that could stand against a Heroic Spirit. A forged, battle-tested weapon. Even if he wasn’t worthy, if he had something like that sword—

"—Projection, begin."

No matter how much he begged, that guy wouldn’t lend him a sword—not here, not now. Besides, he didn’t even know where Tohsaka and Archer were.

So if he wanted a weapon, he had no choice but to create one himself.

If it doesn’t exist, make it. If it’s missing, fabricate it. If you want to protect Saber, then get the power you need, no matter what it costs.

His vision sparked. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. But none of that mattered.

What mattered was the strength.

He needed power. He wanted power.

Power, power, power, power, power, power, power, power, power, power—power, power, power, power, power—power, power, power, power, power—power, power, power, power, power—!

"—Projection, complete."