Chapter 2 Fate: False Fake (FSN SI)

Chapter 2: Honey, You’re A Gal, Make Big Boom Now

I’m so glad Big Sis Taiga isn’t home.

I’d hate having to explain any and all of this. My school jersey’s a literal bloody mess and I don’t think any amount of sewing and cleaning is going to fix that. Tossing my bag into the usual spot, I kept my shoes on as I ran through the house.

Entering the old man’s old room, I took the time to bow respectfully to his memory. Then I ripped off the tatami to begin accessing the armory. Kiritsugu wasn’t one for sentimentality in life, and I saw no reason that’d change in death.

Placing two hands on the concrete slab that had been hidden by the tatami, I pushed my Mana through. Grasping the structure, I Altered it to open, man-made stone peeling away to reveal a locker that I opened. Nestled in foam and concealed in a small Bounded field, I was so glad that I had finished the weekly maintenance for the guns today. Everything inside should be in perfect condition, fully loaded and ready to go.

Closest to the top and the longest of the three guns was the Walther WA2000; a heavyweight, semi-automatic sniper rifle with a mildly illegal AN/PVS-4, a top-secret night-vision scope ‘borrowed’ from the US Army. Devastating at range, it was a poor choice for close combat, so it’d be useless for this fight.

At the bottom, closest to myself, was a Calico M950; a submachine gun with a helical feed magazine for extra rounds. Excellent for extended fights from short to mid-range with a bit of overlap into long in the right circumstances. This would probably be my pick and standard go-to in the coming fights. Definitely what I would choose for this one.

Lastly… Lastly was something I hoped to never use.

In between these two guns laid a rosewood box. Stroking its surface, I closed my eyes and Grasped its contents. Without opening it and having only seen it once, I could still Trace the shape, feel the history of the Magus Killer’s signature weapon. A single-shot pistol laid atop 28 bullets. This was Kiritsugu’s Thompson Contender, altered and enchanted by the old man himself to work with 66 bullets made from his own ribs. Origin Bullets made by, for, and against Magus, this weapon was what earned him the epithet of Magus Killer. 38 bullets shot, 37 mages killed, and not a single bullet wasted.

…Or so I like to think. The Old Man would probably heavily disagree, especially on the last one.

I didn’t know if I could even use them myself, seeing as the bullets were made from and powered by Kiritsugu’s unique Magus Crest, but… As he said, it was always good to have back up plans.

Grabbing the old man’s Calico M95 and a few magazines, I reformed the concrete and covered the special armory with the tatami once more. All in all, even with my indulgence in reminiscence, five minutes had barely passed. I should have time to prepare for Lancer’s arrival.

Stepping out onto the veranda, I immediately then had to step backwards to avoid being stabbed by a spear. I should’ve gotten a warning from the Bounded Field unless… Shit, when I died, it must have fallen apart. I was going to have to remember to put it back up after this fight.

Also, I was not going to have time to booby trap this place to my liking. Fucking lovely/

“Dodged that time, eh?” Lancer chuckled,  hopping off the roof and flipping into a lax squat, spear slung over his shoulders. An air of arrogance surrounded him, but it was a deserved one.

Aiming the nozzle, I answered with a burst of gunfire. None of them hit as a mystical wind swirled around Lancer, knocking all bullets aside.

“Projectiles are useless, laddie,” Lancer smirked, “Still surprised you made it, but though I hate to be the baddie, I’m gonna need you to bite it.”

Laddie, baddie is one pair, but… I gritted my teeth. Did he seriously force a rhyme with it and it? You are a horrible poet, Lancer. Absolutely horrible.

“I’ll give you a real fight this time,” I scowled, stepping off the veranda, fully aware that he allowed me to do so.

“Eh… That remains to be seen,” Lancer chuckled before raising an eyebrow, “Still, I’ve got to ask, you don’t seem surprised by all of this.”

“I’ve dipped my toes into the Moonlit world before,” I answered, trying to buy time for Rin and Archer to come. Also to give myself time to plan because holy shit, am I fucked.

“Oof, so you were a magus,” he grimaced, “My bad. My bad. I’m only supposed to kill outsiders.”

“I don’t suppose that means you’ll let me go.”

Humming languidly, Lancer shook his head as he twirled the staff from around his shoulders into a lax guard position, “Nah. I don’t think so. Call it professional pride to not leave anyone alive.”

Not unexpected, but still disappointing. …I do have to give him kudos for rhyming pride with alive. Or I would if I didn’t fully believe that he did that one by accident. I readjusted my grip and took a breath. The time that banter could buy was running dry as Lancer grew bored.

“Not gonna drop your toy?” Lancer teased, clearly not taking this seriously.

“No,” I growled even as I dashed forward into a slide, firing bullets as I did so.

Each bullet was blown aside by his passive protection, but aiming at Lancer’s face obscured his vision just enough to allow me to get close.

Standing up to ignore the idle sweep from his spear, I brought the barrel as close to his body as I could, still firing away. There had to be a certain point at which the bullet was too close to count as a projectile, and--

I felt his leg sweep mine just as I landed, flipping me around twice in the air. Felt it, even saw it for a bit, but I couldn’t react. I barely had time to tuck my chin in as I slammed into the ground and then I was busy focusing on how to breathe when he stomped on my stomach.

“Like I said. Protection from Projectiles, laddie,” Lancer sighed, foot on my stomach and spear raised to strike down, “Any projectiles aimed are useless against me.”

Did he seriously rhyme ‘laddie’ and ‘me’? It bears repeating, Lancer is a fucking hack.

Not that I can say much. I cheat too.

“Can you dodge flowers?” I asked, trying to sound my best to sound adorable instead of like somebody who just got stomped in the stomach.

The sudden question confused Lancer enough to have him pause his strike, “Huh?”

“Ah, sorry, should’ve been more specific,” I slapped a hand on the ground and activated the runic array, “Can you dodge fire flowers?”

Lines of blue light raced across the ground from where I had placed my hand, coalescing into eight points around the garden. From these eight points rose eight boxes with open tops, activating the Emiya Midsummer Firework’s special.

Created by yours truly.

Nothing fancy really. It was just eight holes of an octagon that I had stashed fireworks displays in. A few rudimentary mechanisms allowed them to be pushed up in the summer and ignited at will. WIth a small bump, I had the built-in tilt function for fun-time aiming aim all eight boxes directly towards the epicenter where Lancer stood atop me.

Then I activated them.

In my old life, I was studying to be an engineer. In this life, the old man taught me to be prepared. This had been one of the funner projects that I had forced the old man to check and double check, and I am so glad I never dismantled it.

Protection from Projectiles is all well and good, but there were limits if I remember it correctly. One could dodge an arrow or a bullet, but one couldn’t dodge rain or leaves. One couldn’t dodge things that were ‘natural’. I’m hoping that if it’s fireworks, uncontrolled explosions that weren’t aimed beyond the initial blast, would be enough of a disconnect from a human’s hands for it to be considered ‘natural’.

As it was, Lancer felt the need to dodge the barrage of noise and smoke and flame, leaping off and away and giving me freedom to crawl away. Like I said, so glad I never dismantled this little project.

Army-crawling beneath the storm of fire, I rolled the last of the distance to my shed and slid the door open, trading the Calico M95 for  a metal pole from the wall to use as an impromptu weapon, instinctively Reinforcing the metal structure to stand up against a Servant.

As much as I wanted to test the limits of Protection against Projectiles with a point-blank burst of fire, Lancer was unlikely to let me try that again. Which meant hand-to-hand. Or spear to spear

Was it arrogance to try and fight a Servant with his own style? Absolutely, it was complete insanity.

But how else was I going to get stronger? How else was I going to steal the spearmanship of Ireland’s Child of Light? I was an Emiya. Unconventionality was our greatest weapon and learning and using everything that we could was our second.

Besides, Lancer was arrogant. He’d indulge and fight an idiot one on one which would hopefully buy time for Rin and Archer to come save my stupid ass. They are coming, right? I think they come in all the timelines to save me. I don’t know if I can summon Saber since I’m not Shirou Emiya, so I’m trying to go for that backup plan.

Grasping everything, I was annoyed to find that Lancer had destroyed every one of my turrets. Those were custom-crafted by me. And they were expensive too! Do you have any idea how hard it was to set them up? How hard it was to find somebody not only capable of sneaking in one, let alone eight, of these guns through Japanese customs and be willing to sell it to a prepubescent teenage girl!?

Fuck you, Lancer. Fuck you.

No. Discard idle thoughts, frivolous anger. Temper thine self.

Deep breath in, deep breath out, I held out my pole like a spear and voiced a challenge with every part of myself save my voice toward the Lancer squatting on my roof.

With a wry chuckle, he leapt down and shook his head. Twirling the spear to his left, passing it and continuing the twirl to his right, and then spinning it around his neck, Lancer fell into position, spear pointing towards my throat and accepting my challenge.

The sound of a hammer upon the forge clanged, and I charged foth while Reinforcing my body to the utmost. Tucking my head to dodge the lazy jab to my throat, I thrust forth and tapped Lancer’s stomach.

Then it was on.

It was quite one-sided. Lancer attacked. I tried to survive.

But just like the way steel is tempered with each blow, I was gaining something with every exchange. I had never once stopped my Structural Grasping, you see. Every move Lancer made, I could see how he held his spear, how he moved, what he stood like.

Feeling the weapon, feeling his stance, feeling everything, I stole just as I survived. How to place my foot for a better block, which ones to avoid and which ones to take, when and how to strike. His style of spear fighting primarily focused on finding an opportunity to thrust and pierce, whether that was parrying whenever possible or avoiding an attack for an opening, Lancer’s goal was to pierce.

He was going easy on me; of course, he was. This was nowhere near the ferocity he had fighting against Archer earlier tonight, but thank gods that he was a battle junkie because that was the only reason I was lasting this long. Eventually, I started returning a hit, a soft blow that Lancer dodged like it was nothing but a leaf, but still… I got him to move.

He punished me for that, raining a flurry of blows upon me, his spear darting in and out like stars from the sky, but I weathered them and even returned a few. I endured a few blows, stepping into the arc whenever possible to avoid being cut because to be cut was to be cursed and to be cursed was to die.

None of my blows could hurt him, but only one needed to connect to kill me. With that in mind, I should’ve kept it down, but each time, he upped the tempo, and each time I met it and forced him to raise it.  I tried my best to mirror him and I tried my best to copy him.

How long had it been since we started fighting? It felt longer, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Regardless, my years of training and preparation felt like they were paying off. That common sense that a human couldn’t fight a Servant? Discarded. Look at what I’m doing now. Sparring, no, learning from Lancer. Every blow was hard, but with each one I took, each one I dodged, I learned more and more.

More about the spear. More about Lance. More about how to fight, and more about myself.

This wasn’t so bad. If I kept this up, I could learn so much. I could do so much more. Maybe I could even--

“Whelp, I’m bored,” Lancer suddenly sighed, and then I found myself cratering the wall. Blearily, I watched as he lowered his leg. Fuck. The asshole kicked me. This time, I had time to react and Reinforce the area, but… fucking ow. At least there’s no-- And there’s the pain. Even in my thoughts, I’m not safe from the EX-Luck of an Emiya.

Gravity took me down from the wall, but I forced myself to stand regardless. Despite himself, I noticed Lancer’s gaze had a note of approval.

A strange sense of calm settled over me at this point, the buzz of desperate adrenaline tempering into collected focus. I can’t win like this. As it was, I had been toyed with. I knew that going in, but in a fight, it’s easy to forget.

Hah. And to think I was getting cocky. Felt nice to have some semblance of confidence, but having even a faint faith of the self in this war was a sure way to die stupidly. Thank you for reminding me, and also, fuck you, Lancer.

Time to gamble it all then. Back to the original backup plan.

“You know what?” Lancer smiled as he sauntered towards me, “You were right. You’ve given me… not a good fight, but an interesting one. Those tricks were fun. Fireworks! Who would’ve thought? Got to watch out for that in the future. And you’re not good with the spear, but you certainly learn fast? Who taught you?”

“I was raised by a realist of an idealist,” I answered, gathering mana with each breath I took. The longer he kept talking, the longer I could try and summon Saber.

“Isn’t that contradictory?”

“He wanted to be a hero and was--” I wheezed. My lungs feel deflated, but I had to keep on breathing, keep on gathering mana, “--practical about it.” I took a deep breath and spared a fraction to Reinforcing and repairing the damaged parts of my body. “Kill one to save ten. Kill ten to save a hundred. Kill a hundred  to save a thousand That sort of guy.”

“Seems heavy,” Lancer muttered.

“Tell me about it,”I coughed a wry chuckle, “He tried to pass that dream on to me.”

Spinning his spear up into position, Lancer prepared to thrust, “And?”

“Still thinking on my answer,” I sighed, sending all the mana I had gathered down into the earth.

No words spoken. No ritual prepared and performed. Just me and a desperate last ditch on the gacha roll that was Servant Summoning. And even with all of the last of my mana, nothing happened.

I had failed.

“Shame, I wanted to hear it,” Lancer sighed. He then thrust Gae Bolg, the simple action holding more sincerity than all the fights we had just now.

As the spear neared, time seemed to slow down as I thought things over. Funny how death sharpens the mind. Funny how it brings back memories of regret.

I may have refused Kiritsugu’s dream way back then, but… that was because I wasn’t sure if I even belonged. Now I knew I didn’t belong, but… who cares?  If I’m supposed to be the Shiro of this world, then my fate may be sealed, Alaya here to claim my soul however she wishes.

But how I get there is up to me.

The backup plan of hoping that Rin and Archer could come to help was a burst. It’s time for the backup-backup plan otherwise known as the original plan.

Do or die. Succeed or fail. The ending doesn’t action so much as this present now. Holding up my right hand, I smiled.

So what if I have no Mana left. So what if I failed. So what if I wasn’t the right person.

I was here and that meant something.

Thus I answered my Old Man’s wish as if I was praying.

“But I’m going to try regardless.” I’m going to try and save them all.

And with that I finally summoned my Servant.

The ground flared as a runic circle etched itself into existence here in my shed, here in my private forge. As the air shivered and Lancer’s spear was clashed aside by a sword, I relished the burn as the Crests engraved themselves onto the back of my hand.

Wearing silver steel and blue cloth, golden hair under silver moonlight, the noble aura of a knight radiated off of my servant as she defended me. A contemptuous flick aside to disengage from Lancer’s spear, her broad back was a comfort in this trying night.

Without turning around, Saber spoke her infamous line.

“I ask of you; are you my master?”

…Holy crap, this is fucking awesome. Also terrifying in its implications, but never mind that. I’ve got help now. The advantage is to Emiya now. Nope. No bragging, even in your head, that’s how you screw yourself over.

…Still so cool though.

“Yes, I am.” I nodded with a smile, “Pleasure to meet you, Servant Saber.”

“You as well, my master,” Saber returned. Slashing once and twice in the manner of an X to force Lancer’s latest attack back, she rolled her shoulders. “You certainly chose an interesting time to summon me.”

“I work best under stress,” I shrugged, walking over to the cabinet and opening it. I could leave Saber to handle Lancer for now, and judging by the sound of weapons clashing, she was. What I needed to do was restock and rearm myself. Pulling out the box of metal ingots, I placed a hand on the floor to begin Altering the floor to gain access to my secret stash.

…Nothing happened. Whoops, forgot I used up all my mana just now.

“Are you fucking serious!?” Lancer growled amidst the sound of them clashing, “If I knew you were going to summon a Servant, I would’ve killed you far faster.”

“But ya didn’t!” I cackled before falling into a coughing fit. Damn it, can’t even gloat properly because of how beat up I am. Still, I had my own Servant now. How the turn tables… tabled? Shit. I may be concussed.

Taking a moment to focus on breathing, I regathered mana to change the composition of the cabinet’s bottom to an opening. Pulling out the ammo box hidden in the Earth, I smiled as I popped open the lid and looked at the lovely collection of explosives.

What can I say? Big boom is an Emiya family classic for a reason.

“Is this your enemy, Master?” Saber asked out of what I’m hoping is mere formality. Otherwise, I’m worried she’s just as concussed as I am seeing as Lancer was literally about to stab me when she arrived. Also, she is literally fighting him right now.

“Eeyup.” I nodded as I perused the selection. Flashbangs, smoke-bombs, tripmines, and the classic grenade; oh, what was a girl to pick? “Beat him up, please, Saber, but don’t kill him.”

“Yes, Mas--” Saber cut herself off, “I beg your pardon?”

Flashbangs would probably be the best here since I’m fighting on my home ground. Don’t want to wreck the garden any more than it already was. Grabbing a fear and attaching it to the bandolier inside, I answered as I wrapped the line of explosives around my chest,  “Beat him up, but don’t kill him.”

“...You do know what I’ve been summoned for, right!?” Saber didn’t quite not yell.

“Holy Grail War, yes, I understand,” I smiled beatifically as I stepped out of my she, hands on my hips, “’m calling it off.”

I was a bit insulted by how that got them to stop fighting, blade and spear crossed. It wasn’t that stupid. Wars are not good things. They should be stopped whenever possible.

“What?” Lancer asked, turning his entire face to look at me and leaving an opening that Saber didn’t use.

“What?” Saber parroted, stance completely wide and jaw completely slack as she too stared at me in befuddlement.

…Yup. Forget a bit, I was fully insulted by how they were looking at me like I was… Ooh, right. They don’t know what I know about this war.

“I’ll explain later,” I waved them off as I picked up my Calico M950 again. Popping out the magazine and replacing it, I locked and loaded my gun and aimed at Lancer. With my left hand, I grabbed another pipe for the purpose of having a melee option in this fight., “For now, let’s go, my limited edition female king Marble. We’ve got a fight to finish and people to save.”

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AN: Thanks for the new patrons.

I hope this chapter didn't jump the shark for anyone, but I wanted to show how different this Shiho was. Suffice to say, she did NOT spend the last decade not preparing.