Chapter 8: First Quest (1/3) - A pair of Saints.
As the sun broke through the horizon, bringing light across Fuyuki's cityscape, I sat on the porch while Sakura stood behind me, comb in hand. She brushed my lengthy hair, her touch gentle yet firm before tying the lower half into a fine braid, leaving the top and sides of my face to be covered with locks that lifted at the end fringes.
"It's done," the girl with lavender hair announced with a warm smile, setting the brush down. After Zouken's departure, her troubled mind had been alleviated, replaced by an iron-clad spirit that conveyed yearning and expectation when directed at the auburn-haired boy.
"Thank you, Sakura." I turned around, giving the young girl a hug to which she eagerly responded in kind.
She and I talked for a little bit, enjoying each another's presence, before separating soon after to do our own thing. She headed to the kitchen in order to prepare breakfast, including Taiga's who would without a doubt appear as she always did, while I quietly made my way to the smithy out back to clean it up.
As I dropped a container filled with metal bars in a corner, a System notification appeared in front of me.
[A new Quest is available]
"Hm?" I hummed, brows arcing upward. To be frank, the 'Quest' timer at the very bottom of the System's head-up display had largely left me considering the fact that it had barely anything to do with my everyday life, only being relevant once 5 years had passed—which was now. It's pretty crazy to think that so many years had passed.
My lips thinned. The years I've spent in this reality had been short, a measly 5 years of my newly attained youth, yet it was more laborious than the last, but at the same time even more rewarding. Long have I accepted my circumstances (abrupt reincarnation), but that doesn't diminish the absurdity of it all. If not for the System's presence giving me a sense of safety, my state of mind would've deteriorated the longer time dragged on due to the untold dangers that this world had in store.
Shaking my head, my attention went back to the notification. "What's this supposed to do?" I asked myself while opening the System's interface, only to be left confused upon reading its contents.
[Quest: Assist Ruler and destroy the Greater Grail]
[You may return once you complete the Quest]
"What—" Before my mind could fully process the information, an invisible hand pulled upon my very being and threw me into a space of utter darkness, stealing my sight. Panicked, I twist and turn, but failed to properly orient myself as each direction felt all the same, yet foreign at the same time.
Just as abruptly, I was spat back out into the mortal plane with the subtlety of a typhoon passing through the streets of Miami. A loud boom traveled across the land as I crashed back first into the earthen ground, sending dirt into the sky and forcing a groan of pain to escape my lips.
'Damn that hurt,' I winced at the pain surging across my body. The fall must have been pretty high for it to actually cause me some amount of injury.
I left my recovery in Avalon's hands and swiftly shot to my feet, eyes bouncing to and fro, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Finding nothing amiss, the breath I was unconsciously holding got released, calmness washing over me.
"Where in Mother Earth's ample bossom am I?" Looking around, I had somehow crash landed beside an expressway in the middle of an open vista. It was undoubtedly the System that took me here, as for the reason? Probably something to do with the 'Quest' I just received.
Out of the blue, a dense pocket of magical energy appeared in the distance, making me to turn my head. Having nothing else to do, I bent my legs and rushed to the direction of the disturbance until a pair of blurry figures on the road came into view. With the help of Reinforcement, my eyes gained a new level of clarity, allowing me to determine their forms.
Stood atop a road sign is a man with a ghostly complexion and unkempt hair of equal colour. His form-fitting clothes were pitch black with an open front, exposing the rubellite gem planted on his chest. His legs were covered in blinding armour and two golden constructs reminiscent of an eye hovered over his shoulders, and a red cape draped over his form like clouds during a storm. A spear longer than he is tall was firmly in his grasp, its tip pointed at the ground.
He radiated a hint of divine as he stared at the sole person below whom returned with a glare that matched his. Standing on the road was a beautiful woman wearing a battle-dress with hair bright as wheat that's weaved not too dissimilarly to mine. Chains wrapped around her chest, accentuating her bust, donned a pair of silver gauntlets that covered her hands, and some form of hair ornament was placed on her head.
Out of habit, I examined the slender rapier on the young woman's waist, replicating the weapon inside Unlimited Blade Works in the blink of an eye, before moving to the pale man's spear. As my eyes studied its sleek surface, an intangible power started assaulting my head from all sides, as if beating it with hammers, forcing me to halt my analysis, not before determining the pole-arm's name however, causing my eyes to widen.
My mind jolted, immediately discerning their identities. The one above was of Hindu origin—a demigod named Karna. While the blonde was none other than the Saint of Orleans—Jeanne d'Arc. Two existences thwt shouldn't even be here, yet they were. There was only one reason for their presence here; they were both Servants - heroes of long past - brought forth by a magical artefact known as the Holy Grail to participate in a bloody conflict between two factions—Red and Black.
'Am I in Fate Apocrypha?' From what I could recall, Apocrypha was another version or timeline of Fate, but my knowledge of the show were blurry at best.
I never knew the System had the power to travel across dimensions, I thought it only allowed me to level up and gain Skills. Admittedly, I was worried about my world. What if Sakura came searching for me in the shed after she's finished cooking, only to find me missing? I hope to God nothing bad happens to her while I'm away.
"I'll be back soon." Thankfully, the objective only required me to aid Jeanne d'Arc, also known as the Ruler-class Servant, and destroy the source of this conflict, the Greater Grail, not to fight the Servants themselves. With my current strength, I would no doubt shatter like glass the moment I engage with any of them.
Though I might not tussle with them, a wave of nervousness still persisted within me. To alleviate this feeling, I decided that now was the time to allocate my stat points in the small chance that I do confront a Servant in the coming future.
———
-Shirou Emiya-
Title(s):
-Expand-
Level: 20
STR: 20
VIT: 61
AGI: 24
MAG: 31
Points: 0
Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.
Skills:
-Expand-
Quest:
[Assist Ruler and destroy the Greater Grail]
———
I had forgone adding anything to Vitality because Avalon already had that department under control, and placed the majority of my spare points into Magic. Albiet narrow in selection, magecraft was where most of my strength lay.
A wave of vigour ran across my whole body, signifying my sudden increase in strength. I shook the odd feeling off, already attuned with the change thanks to the System's machinations, and closed the interface. With this, my rate of survival should've increased, even by a minute amount. Back to the pair, they began to talk to one another, but due to the immense distance between us my ears failed to capture anything. Using Reinforcement, my hearing received a large boost, allowing it to capture their voices.
"I shall end this with a single strike," the demigod spoke, his voice resolute as he decided his next actions, causing the ends of my hair to stand. Now's not the time to dawdle, I can't have Ruler die on me just yet. I didn't even know what completing this Quest entails, but I hope it wouldn't be anything detrimental.
"Trace on." With a flicker of mana, a large, custom-made bow accompanied by a steel sword appeared within my grasps. Using Alteration, the blade's shape changed, stretching into a more aerodynamic form before being notched into the bow like a normal arrow would.
The Lancer of Red, Karna, heaved the spear in his hand, directing it to the Saint of Orleans, prompting her to summon a regal war banner in her hands, then assumed a defensive stance. Suddenly, the spearman released a torrent of magical energy, causing the winds itself to whip around erratically.
Taking aim with my back stuck straight, the bow's shape bent into a "C" as I pulled the sturdy string back with all my strength. Upon release, the sword-turned-projectile surged through the sky at an unbelievable speed and reached their position in a span of a second. Archery was another skill I've been learning vigorously throughout the years in tandem with blacksmithing.
To his credit, Karna immediately noticed the disturbance in the air and calmly turned his head to the side out of instinct, evading the speeding sword by a finger's length. The demigod raised his head, eyes sharpening, and traced the trajectory of the 'arrow', instantly discerning my location.
"Best I could do is distract him," I whisper, not at all disheartened by the missed shot. That didn't really come as a surprise, there was no way a being of his strength could be taken down by a mere steel sword, the best it could do was annoy him. At the very least, it did stop him from releasing his most powerful strike upon Jeanne.
Perhaps if I possessed a Noble Phantasm - a Servant's weapon or ability - it would be possible to land a scratch on him. I could try Projecting Ruler's banner since my Reality Marble had already made a copy of it, but it wouldn't do much as a weapon because it was, at its core, a Noble Phantasm meant to protect. The demigod's spear on the other hand was impossible for me to replicate due to its nature as a Divine Construct— armaments made by gods or some other powerful being. That was the reason my Structural Analysis failed earlier, my mind literally could not fathom how it was made for it was not created for mortal hands to wield.
"Where the hell are you, Saber?" I sifted through the vague memories I had of the original show. The Saber of Black should have already arrived at this point in time to ward off Karna from approaching Ruler, yet not a lick of his presence could be found anywhere in the area.
Lancer of Red brandished his weapon, eyes trained on the Saint while remaining vigilant of the archer. The gap between the Servants and the shooter was a little under a kilometer and a half, a testament to the archer's skills, but it also gave Karna time to detect and avoid any incoming attacks. Even if they somehow actually hit him, the oddly shaped arrows wouldn't be able to penetrate his golden armour, but it was better to stay conscious of all parties involved in a fight lest you get caught by something unexpected.
Seeing him resume his attempts at Ruler's life, I prepare another sword and took a shot, which was followed by another in quick succession. As their duel raged on, Lancer increased his efforts to eliminate the other Servant by exerting more strength into his blows and moved at such speeds that my eyes failed to follow him even with the help of my boosted stats and Reinforcement.
"This isn't working," I grumbled in frustration at my inability to track their movements, then chanted, "Time alter—triple accel." With the spell in effect, they became visible once again, and I rained steel upon the spearman in hopes of giving him pause. But it was all for naught as he made light of my attempts and continued pursuing the Saint.
His agility and dexterity proved too much for my projectiles to realistically hit, and predicting his next move was an even more arduous task. So, I resorted to simply bombarding the general area he was in, making sure to avoid harming Jeanne.
The ground shook and the winds howled as the demigod threw swings that easily tore through the earth as if it were the surface of water at Ruler, who blocked or redirected the attacks with extreme finesse, yet refused to counter with a strike of her own and merely defended herself.
Through a combination of skill and luck on Shirou's part, a steel arrow managed to make contact with Lancer's shoulder, giving him the feeling of being poked. He was about to ignore it when the tap morphed into a light squeeze—not life-threatening nor painful, but alarming in itself.
'It went through my armor?' the demigod questioned, taking a glance at his shoulder. His golden armor should have prevented harm from being inflicted upon him, yet something did? 'No… it did not. The blade was aimed at something else, something from within me—my soul,' his eyes narrowed slightly at the discovery. While the effects were marginal at best, it was never a good idea to dismiss anyone who could harm one's inner self during a battle. He threw a glance in the shooter's direction, paying close attention to the incoming shower of swords, each containing the ability to strike one's soul.
I continued to shoot the Servant of red, my arm slowly turning numb, but I pushed through and loaded more bladed weapons into my bow, firing at the demigod, who seemed to have given me more attention than before.
At the edge of my vision, a dark car could be seen barreling through the empty road. Inside the backseat was a fat man who I could only assume to be the Master, or summoner, of Saber of Black—Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia.
A tinge of confusion crossed my face, where was his Servant? I couldn't detect the famed swordsman anywhere near the vehicle. My internal question was answered in the form of a dark blur that fell from above, landing between Karna and Jeanne in an explosion of dust and dirt, forcing the former to disengage to take stock of the situation.
'Well that answers that.' I lowered my arms, stretching my aching shoulders. It seemed that the man of the hour was only a little late, that's all.
The swirling smokescreen gradually cleared to reveal a man of impressive stature with tanned skin and unruly muted hair, pauldrons strapped on each shoulder, and a greatsword that released an oppressive aura firmly held in his hands. Much like Karna, the front of his clothes was bare, revealing strange intricate symbols that effused a subtle glow etched on his center.
"Release," I breathed out in relief as the Emiya Crest's time manipulation left my body, then dismissed the black bow. With the swordsman's intervention, the chances of Ruler dying had lowered drastically.
Massaging my arm, I observed the battle occurring in the distance with a keen eye. Ruler had taken a step back, retreating from the fight, letting the swordsman and spearman to be interlocked in a clash, a deadly dance between two masters in the art of combat, which wrought nothing but pure destruction throughout the surroundings. One fought to dispose of the war's overseer, Ruler, while the other prevented them from succeeding.
'Holy hell.' Seeing their display of strength that far outstripped mine, I unconsciously bit my lower lip. Once again, I thanked the System for tasking me with simply destroying the Greater Grail instead of directly fighting Servants, because there was no way in Mother Earth's great ass am I going to stand a chance against them.
Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia initiated a conversation with Ruler, pleading for her to join Saber's assault on the spearman but she refused, stating firmly that the past grievances between her and Lancer were wholly different.
"But he tried to kill you!" Gordes reasoned, desperation evident in his voice. Jeanne replied calmly, emphasizing that she will not provide any help to both factions.
Unable to convince her, Gordes faced my general direction and shouted into the open horizon, his voice full of pride and hostility, "A battle between magi it is. I am Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia! Cease with these cowardly acts at once and reveal yourself, Master of Lancer! We shall settle this one-on-one as magi!"
Hearing his challenge, I raised my brows. Did he seriously think I was the Master of Lancer? Had he not seen me attacking the demigod prior to this, or did he think those shots were meant for Ruler? It seems he only saw my projectiles, not its target. Either way, I chose not to respond, ignoring the buffoon's ramblings about magi's pride and stayed low, just out of sight.
In the heat of battle, Karna's actual Master ordered a retreat, forcing the demigod to concede, vanishing into a smoke of mana particles. After the fact, Ruler approached the swordsman of Black. "That was a magnificent battle," she said, acknowledging his prowess. "As expected of Allemagne's greatest hero."
Gordes froze on the spot upon realizing that Ruler knew his Servant's identity. 'So she really does know,' he thought, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down his face. He had hidden Saber's True Name even from his own companions, fearing they might exploit his Servant's greatest weakness. The dragon slayer, Siegfried, his Servant, was famous for not only having slain the evil dragon Fafnir, but also for his one and only frailty that ultimately lead to his demise—the leaf that clung on his back, preventing that spot from being dosed with Fafnir's blood when he bathed in it.
Steeling his nerves and pushing through his worries, Gordes made one last attempt to recruit Ruler to his side, only to be rejected in the same tone as before. Grudgingly accepting her answer, he left the scene with Saber in tow, driving back to his faction's base.
The blonde remained, surveying the aftermath of the battle. "The first clash of the war," she whispered to herself. This was the first of many battles to come and possibly one of the least destructive of them all. As an overseer of the conflict, she was tasked with ensuring that the participating parties adhered to the rules and boundaries of the war, ensuring the safety of those ignorant of the magical.
I observed as Jeanne dematerialized her battle armor, revealing an ordinary set of clothes that wrapped around her curvaceous figure. She wore a collared halter top that exposed the majority of her back, showing the visage of wings in red, shorts that swaddled her well developed bottom, and a pair of thigh highs that concealed her slender legs from the elements.
"Shouldn't she be cold?" was my first thought. After all, having been summoned into the body of a French girl named Laeticia, Jeanne had a form made of flesh and blood and not magical energy like a typical Servant. With the early hour and the cold morning breeze, it seemed likely that the weather would affect her, as she was essentially a human being.
She released a slow breath, creating a veil of white mist that swiftly dissipated into the air, before heading towards the cityscape in the distance, while I trailed shortly behind with a jolly grin on my face.
As to why? Deep within the barren landscape of my Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works, a familiar sword with a gem embedded on it could be seen planted into the ground, its hilt reaching into the cloudless sky.
I had successfully obtained my first offensive Noble Phantasm—Balmung, Siegfried's dragon slaying sword.
As Jeanne entered the outskirts of Trifas, Romania, she slipped into a secluded aisle, away from prying eyes, and turned back in the direction she had just come from.
"Show yourself," she commanded, her voice echoing across the quiet passageway. "Know that I am the overseer of this war. If you intend of inflicting harm upon me, punishment will swiftly follow," she announced, hoping to dissuade her stalker from attempting anything similar to what Lancer of Red had done.
Shortly after the first confrontation between the two factions, her senses alerted her to an unknown pursuer, but an invisible curtain shrouded them, making it extra difficult to determine their position.
Fortunately, it appeared that her stalker was more reasonable than Jeanne thought, as a young man with a frame and features awfully similar to hers answered the call, coming into view from around the corner with his hands held high to show his intentions.
His hair shimmered like the crimson glow of a setting sun, wore casual clothes and exuded an affectionate atmosphere that surprised her. The uncanny resemblance between them somewhat threw her off, and if not for the difference in hair colour, Jeanne would've thought she was staring at her reflection.
Jeanne's face betrayed a confused look as she scrutinized the man. She had initially thought it was the Servant of assassination, aptly named Assassin, using their skill [Presence Concealment], but the young man was anything but a being of mana; his entire essence was that of a human's. She remained completely oblivious to the fact that he does, indeed, possess the skill.
"You are?" she asked softly, her eyes refusing to leave his figure as she ogled at the familiar warmth swirling around him, reminiscent of the war banner she wielded in the name of the Lord.
"Shirou Emiya, pleasure to meet you. Now, I'm here with peaceful intentions in mind, nothing nefarious, I promise you." The young man lowered his arms and folded himself at the waist, showing his respect. Shirou wasn't all that surprised that his attempt to follow her quietly ended in failure, so he forgone stealth and revealed himself.
"Were you sent by the faction of black, perhaps?" she guessed. "I'm afraid my answer remains the same; my duty demands impartiality. Should that be your purpose here, turn back now." Jeanne contemplated turning around and walking away if that were the case, but the boy's next words cleared that thought.
"Ah, no-no. I am not here because of them, nor am I from the other colour." He shook his head, denying any kind of involvement with the red or black factions. It was best to clear the air now than have her think Shirou had some sort of ulterior motive.
"I'm here on my—" Before he could finish the sentence, however, a burst of radiance, equal in brightness, broke free from within their chests, showering the tranquil street in a holy shine and giving them a spook. For a fleeting moment, a divine spark of connection bridged their inner selves, intertwining them into a dance of understanding and empathy. In other words, it was a comforting walk, hand in hand, into each other's soul.
The light show gradually receded before vanishing altogether, followed by a period of silence. He and Jeanne kept their lips sealed for a while until the former decided to speak.
"That… what was that?" the young man started, voicing out his confusion.
On the other hand, the blonde quickly recovered from her befuddled state, finally realizing what the familiar presence around his form was and why she felt drawn to it. Jeanne lifted her head, her lilac eyes locking into his amber ones.
"You've been blessed by the Lord's light. You're a Saint, are you not?" Her words carried a sense of disbelief mixed with admiration upon finding out his status. She would've never guessed a Saint, one directly graced by God, could even be born during this era, a time when the Church's influence was on a steep decline.
"I am?" Shirou's reply came out more like a question than an answer since he couldn't exactly deny nor confirm the claim. To his knowledge, the Church has never canonized him as a Saint, but the System technically did by giving him the title, which resonated with Jeanne's own moments prior.
The boy's brows furrowed slightly as a bit of suspicion arose in his mind, questioning the System's origins. Was it God, with a capital G, who bestowed the System onto him? It would explain a tiny bit on why it rewarded him on every small acts of kindness he did, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Though he could not dismiss the idea, so he filed it to the back of his mind for later.
"Was it the Holy Church that sent you here?" she inquired, her cold demeanor softening into one of curiosity.
The redhead shook his head at her question. "Nope. Pretty sure I've only met a representative of the Church like, twice in my life. I am not affiliated with any organization or group of some kind, I came here on my own." He wanted to add that he was forced to be here, but that would contradict his earlier statement of being an independent party.
"And before you say anything about me being a Saint, I never claimed to be or view myself as one," he clarified, waving his hand dismissively. "And I most definitely did not plan to be one, it kinda just happened one night. I'm only here to offer you my help during this conflict, if you wouldn't mind, of course."
Warmth filled Jeanne's eyes upon hearing his words, her lips curling into a bright smile. It seems God's light had blessed a rather humble and honest one. The Saint of Orleans relaxed her posture, placing one hand over her chest as she spoke in a welcoming tone.
"I see. I'll gladly accept your offer," she said with a small head tilt. "I am Jeanne d'Arc. I look forward to working with you, sir Emiya."
"Just Shirou is fine. No need for pleasantries," he insisted. "And aren't you trusting me pretty quickly? What if I was lying? You shouldn't believe everything a stranger says," the young man advised.
"The light of the Lord does not lie," Jeanne replied, her voice filled with conviction. "Our meeting must be His will in action."
"Well, not too sure about that, but I'll do my best," Shirou said, extending his hand. Jeanne gently shook it, solidifying their alliance. He then moved his sight from her lustrous eyes to her attire with a look that she could only assume to be quizzical.
"Is something wrong?" the Saint asked, noting his gaze. Typically, she might feel a twinge of discomfort under someone's prolonged stare, but in his eyes, she detected no hint of malice. Coupled with the presence of God's light emanating from him, she felt no need to be wary of his attentiveness.
"I've been wanting to ask, what's up with your clothes?" He made a gesture, bringing attention to her wear. "Your top barely covers you and those are basically booty-shorts you have there. I mean, it's nice to look at and all, but are you fine walking around like that? As a Saintess no less?"
"I," she stammered, cheeks turning cherry pink at his sincere comment, "I can't help it, my luggage got l-lost at the airport."
Summoned in France and needing to catch a flight to Romania, where the Holy Grail War commenced, she found herself disembarking with nothing but the stuff on her person after her possessions were lost at the baggage claim section, somehow. To add to her predicament, her stomach suddenly growled loudly in the middle of her words, adding to her embarrassment.
The French girl felt the need to explain as imaginary steam vented off her head. "You see, my vessel requires sustenance to properly function unlike a regular Servant." She went on to expand, saying that she was currently borrowing the body of a young girl named Laeticia to be here, hench her need for food.
"Uh… not sure if this is the right time to tell you this." The redhead uttered, forcing a smile on his face. "I'm gonna be completely honest with you, I don't have money on me right now. I may or may not have forgotten it before coming here," he confessed. Unfortunately for Shirou, he had left his wallet back at home before his abrupt abduction, leaving him with nothing to spend.
"Leaving to travel without taking your wallet? That's quite irresponsible," Jeanne chided the red-haired boy. Unlike him, Jeanne didn't loose hers since she always carried it with her.
"You lost pretty much all of your stuff, yet you call me out for being irresponsible?" he countered with a less than brilliant rebuttal.
"These are two separate matters, that doesn't change anything about your situation!" Jeanne stated firmly. At the very least she couldn't be fully blamed for her problem, but Shirou was entirely at fault for his.
"You know, how about we agree that we were both unlucky?" he tried to deflect her nagging. "I can always get a part-time job somewhere here—I hope." He winced, realizing his current age might be an issue. Would anyone even employ him, a child? He's pretty tall for a twelve-year-old; maybe he could just lie about his age to get a temporary job.
Then again, he could always use Projection to simply spawn money from nothing and pay with those, but he immediately burried that thought as he had a strong feeling the Saintess before him would be heavily against it.
Jeanne relented with a drawn out sigh, swallowing the words that were about to leave her mouth, then offered Shirou to join her for something to eat. And so, the two ill-fated Saints went on their way.
Jeanne and I entered a snug restaurant with a dozen or so customers already inside and went to the table by the windows, sitting across one another.
"Hm?" I let out a hum as Jeanne slid the menu towards me. "Do you already have something in mind?"
"I—um. I'll just have what you h-have," she spoke, her words tripping over themselves.
"Okay?" I reached out, taking the menu off the desk and opened it. I skimmed through the list from top to bottom. It was written in Romanian, but thanks to the System's powers, I've learned many different languages over the years with the same ease as someone learning their mother tongue.
To my dismay, not one of the options had rice on it which made the asian blood in me squirm, so I settled with a simple eggs and bacon combo with a side of fries.
"Is eggs, bacon and fries good?" I asked, to which Jeanne responded with a slight nod. "Alright, I'll be back in a sec." I went to the front of the house and ordered a pair of the dish, then payed using the Saintess' money. My eye twitched for a brief moment upon recalling the fact I was essentially broke at the moment and living off the kindness of another person. I'll make sure to change that as soon as possible.
When I returned to Jeanne's side, waiting for our meal to be prepared, I witnessed her holding the menu with one hand while tracing the words on it with the other, reading each item's name line by line in a thick accent that spoke of her unfamiliarity with the language.
"Are you thinking of getting something else?" I asked, understandably confounded by what she was doing.
"Ah, no. I'm just—" she stopped herself and placed the open menu out front like a shield, preventing me from seeing her face.
"No need to be shy. If you're having any trouble, remember that I'm here to help," I reminded, hoping to alleviate whatever problem she was having.
"Promise me you won't laugh," she peeked over the screen between us and spoke. I gave a positive reply and waited for her answer. "Well, um—it's just that," Jeanne paused, her cheeks turning a shade of red, then quickly sputtered out her next words, "I-don't-know-how-to-read."
"Huh?" Of course, I caught what she said and was left baffled. Servants were supposed to receive a wave of information pertaining things about the modern world and whatnot when they're summoned as to not alienate them, which does include foreign tongues.
Her gaze swiftly switched from my eyes to the table. She appeared to be genuinely struggling with the unfamiliar script it seems.
Had something gone wrong during her summoming? or was it due to her legends portraying Jeanne as a peasant girl—hence her inability to read? A Servant's legend can immensely impact their abilities, after all. The Holy Grail shouldn't have made such a simple mistake, so it could be the latter or something else entirely. The corners of my lips curved a bit upward, finding her predicament a little sad, yet amusing.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!" Jeanne lowered her head once again, hiding behind the menu in embarrassment.
"But I didn't," I coolly denied the accusation being made against me. "But, if you couldn't read, how did you even board a plane, let alone arrive here?" Did she really just wander here all by herself without any idea of where she was going?
"I can still speak Romanian, it helped a lot," she revealed, then placed a hand over her heart. "As to how I made it here, God would lead me where I need to go," she spoke with unbending conviction.
A piece of knowledge flashed across my mind. From what I could recall, Jeanne possessed a skill known as [Revelation], which acted as some sort of guiding hand that always pushed her in the right direction. That would explain it, I suppose.
"Oh, putting Jesus at the wheel, I get it," Jeanne raised her head, narrowing her eyes in a vain attempt to look intimidating, which I found adorable more than anything. "Alright, let me rephrase that. You've placed an immense amount of faith in the Lord." Hearing that, her features gradually softened.
"If you want, I can teach you some simple things you might need," I offered.
"It's fine. I wouldn't want to trouble you with my problems," the Saintess refused.
"Oh, cut it. It's not troublesome at all," I insisted, determined to help her.
After a bit of hesitation, Jeanne accepted my proposal with a thankful smile mixed with a hint of guilt. I waved it off, telling her it wasn't that big of a deal.
Versing her with an entire language might not be possible as it might take months, and the Holy Grail war wouldn't last that long, so common sentences and phrases would have to do as her lessons so she could at least read street signs.
Right on cue, our food arrived and we started eating. While putting a piece of bacon in my mouth, I Instinctively used Structural Analysis on my utensils and copied them inside Unlimited Blade Works' empty fields. It looks pretty silly seeing cutlery stabbed next to the legendary Balmung of all things, but it's going to get even more weirder in just a second.
Out of curiosity, I decided to scan the remaining food as well, not really expecting anything to come out of it—and let me tell you how wrong, very wrong, I was. As invisible mana enveloped the bacon's form, a library of information about it unfolded in my mind, making me freeze as if I had just gazed into Medusa's petrifying eyes.
Somehow, the stupid idea had worked. I was able to see into the foodstuff's past and understand how it was processed and cooked. Unfortunately, the details only went far back as when it was already a packaged good, but it was still a pretty significant discovery.
[Skill 'Structural Analysis' has ranked up to B - 1] A System notification appeared, adding fuel to the fire that was my line of thinking.
"Shirou, are you okay?" Jeanne's voice cuts though my train of thought, snapping me out of my reverie. "You've been staring at your plate for a while now."
"Oh, it's nothing. I just thought of something pretty interesting," I calmly replied to dismiss her worry, then went back to eating as a plethora of things bounced around in my head.
Later that morning, after eating breakfast, Jeanne and I went around town and found an apartment to stay in for the next couple of days until the war reached its conclusion. The place only had a single bedroom, so I settled on the couch while my companion took the bed for herself. She was fine sharing the bed for some reason, but I remained adamant in my decision and got her to agree after a bit of talking.
Currently, I was alone inside the living room as Jeanne had decided to take a shower first. I sat down on the couch and stared intently at my open hand. The discovery that my Structural Analysis skill worked on other inanimate objects that's unrelated to blades had opened up a whole lot of possibilities in my mind.
I pulled my conciousness inward, inducing myself in a state of hypnosis to manipulate the mana lying dormant within me. My mental trigger, an image of two clashing swords that caused a spray of sparks to scatter outward, flashed across my mind.
"Trace on," I recited, followed by the familiar sensation of my magic circuits humming to life. What I am about to do was something not even the original Shirou Emiya had done before.
Mana revolved around my hand, its form ever shifting like flames flickering in the wind, before gradually taking a more solid shape. In the blink of an eye, a magical construct materialized in my hand. Instead of a sword or sharp object, what appeared was something else entirely; a regular looking burger you'd find just about anywhere else.
"Oh, God. I have seen your wisdom and my faith is renewed." I prayed to the Almighty in sheer disbelief of the miracle I just performed.
"Shirou?" a feminine voice suddenly called out from behind. I turned around and saw Jeanne wearing her signature halter top and shorts, now paired with a jacket that she had purchased earlier. Droplets of water could be seen sliding down her dewy sun-dyed hair, indicating that she had just finished taking a bath.
"Where did you get that?" Her eyes shone with interest as she looked at the item in my hand. She doesn't remember him buying it when they came here, and it felt strange in a way she could not put her finger on.
"I think I just solved world hunger—maybe," I declared. Seriously, I could Project organic material now? I didn't even think that was possible. If I were to take a shot in the dark, the System probably had something to do with this.
Hearing my less than helpful answer, the Saintess tilted her head to convey her confusion after making herself comfortable beside me. Reaching out, I gave the piece of burger to her and asked if she could sense anything weird about it—to which she did pretty quickly.
"This is… it's made out of mana?" she blinked in surprise and took a better look at it to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "How did you do this?"
"I don't know, to be honest," I confessed. "I thought my Projection only worked on bladed weapons, but apparently not."
"Projection? Is that not some form of magecraft?" she asked. While Jeanne knew of its existence, she wasn't well versed in the art of thaumaturgy, only having an idea about it. Her old comrade, Gilles de Rais, had told her about it in the past, but the complexities of the craft slipped past her head.
Normally, I would be apprehensive about revealing my cards to someone I just met, but I knew Jeanne was someone who could be trusted with such information, so I gave her a rundown on how my Structural Analysis and Projection ability worked while keeping the System hidden, a detail that would forever remain as one of my most guarded secrets, second only to my reincarnation.
"Fascinating," Jeanne uttered. "But you said your Projections, apart from swords, are only supposed to be in form and not substance, mayhaps this lacks things such as taste and whatnot?" she proposed.
"Maybe," I shrugged, "wanna give it a try?" I fully expected it to just shatter into particles the moment its surface gets damaged like a regular Projection would.
"It wouldn't hurt to try, I suppose." Jeanne moved the burger next to her mouth and took a bite of the magical construct. Chewing, her eyes suddenly widen in astonishment as a myriad of flavour floods her mouth.
"Is it bad?" A frown crossed my lips, thinking of the worst. Maybe it only looked good but had a horrid taste?
"Oh no. Rather, the opposite, actually." The Saintess shook her head at my question and took another mouthful, her face full of delight.
"Wait, really?" I shifted in my seat, interest piqued. From the looks of it, the construct would remain even if a chunk of it got taken off.
"Here, have a try." After swallowing, she gave the foodstuff back for me to try.
Upon taking a bite out of it, a burst of flavour coated my tongue, leaving my mouth slightly ajar. 'Holy mother of God,' I invoked the Lord's name for a second time.
Jeanne then took the hamburger off my grasp and proceeded to eat the whole thing by herself as my thoughts began to sway.
It tasted good, like really good. It was probably created using the knowledge I had on making burgers as I've dabbled on it in the past to help broaden my palate. I've even got into brewing tea and other drinks, which fell under the [Cooking] skill for some reason. Shouldn't beverages be a separate skill entirely? The inner workings of the System continues to confound me to this day.
While I was lost in my own world, Jeanne, after wiping her mouth with a tissue, spoke up while placing a hand under her chin, her expression thoughtful. "It appears to dissipate the moment it reaches my stomach, so it doesn't provide any nutrients. And I can't be sure, but I feel like my mana reserves recovered by a small amount."
"Ah," a sound escapes my lips, "eating it actually does give you a little bit of mana back," I confirmed her suspicion. The burger gradually broke down as it traveled down my throat, returning into its natural state, however, the magical energy used to make it simply assimilated with my own instead of disappearing.
With a thought, I summoned another Projection, this time it was a glass of apple juice, and drank the whole thing in one gulp. From within, the same amount of mana I used to create the liquid reappeared. As expected, the construct only restored the same amount used to manifest it. While not immediately helpful, it could still prove useful—life-saving, even, when conjured prior to an altercation.
I had found a way to quickly recover magical energy without the need for waiting or transference, essentially creating Mana Potions you'd find in every fantasy game. This had to be the greatest discovery I've ever made, and it was on complete accident as well. Why haven't I thought of this? What else could I make? Is it possible for me to make vegetables?
"Um, Shirou?" she softly voiced out, gaining my full attention. "If it isn't too bothersome, do you think you can make another burger? If you wouldn't mind, of course," she asked while tapping her thigh with her finger.
"Looks like someone's hungry," I chuckle, causing Jeanne to look away meekly. "Of course I can, here you go." I summomed another burger and presented it to her.
She seems pretty excited at the prospect of being able to eat a limitless number of food, savour its wonderful taste, without getting a full stomach. I'm plenty eager to try it out as well, but I just hid the desire better.
"Th-thank you," she voiced out with a stutter and took the burger off my hands. The sight of her taking small bites made me smile with how adorable she looked.
3 whole days went by in a flash. A few skirmishes occured here and there, but nothing too drastic that warrants Shirou's attention. Jeanne went out on occasions to observe said skirmishes to enforce her authority, leaving Shirou to watch over their home like a house husband.
Well, even if something did catch his attention, he couldn't do much apart from spectate from a distance and help his housemate relax with a nice meal. Miraculously, he managed to get a part-time job at a nearby cafe and gained a steady stream of money for him to spend, finally free from the shame of leeching off the Saint of Orleans.
At this moment, Jeanne and Shirou were idly lounging in their shared apartment, the latter rummaging through the kitchen in search of ingredients. To his dismay, the cupboards were nearly bare, prompting a sigh to escape his lips.
"Hey, we're out of supplies," Shirou remarked, untying his apron and draping it over the counter. "I'm going out to buy some things. Wanna come with?"
"Sure, I'll join you," Jeanne replied with a smile, eager to accompany her fellow Saint. She couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and delight remembering the amount of delectable food she had consumed over the past few days, which led to their kitchen needing frequent restocking due to her unending appetite.
'It's not my fault,' she reasoned, 'it's Shirou's fault for cooking such delicious meals everyday for me.' Though she complained in her mind, she would never say it out loud, having already fallen prey to Shirou's divine dishes.
After a bit, the two left their home and trekked across the streets of Trifas. Having been acquaintanced with the area days ago, the pair strolled to the marketplace, their pace relaxed. The early morning stillness enveloped the alleys, with only shopkeepers opening their stores breaking the silence.
"Ah, if it isn't Shirou. How are you doing?" an old lady called out as they passed her shop. Shirou greeted her warmly, and Jeanne barely registered it, thinking nothing of it. But similar encounters happened at each store they passed. People waved to Shirou, engaging him in small talk, stunning Jeanne with how well-known he seemed to be.
As he got pulled into conversations with a circle of housewives, Jeanne turned to one of them and asked, "Excuse me, may I ask how you know Shirou?"
The woman answered with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. "Oh, Shirou's been a great help around town, my daughter has even started learning how to cook from the kid." She took a better look at Jeanne's face, noticing their similarities hers and the redhead's. "Oh my, are you Shirou's sister, perhaps?"
"No, we're just friends." Jeanne chuckled nervously, still unable to wrap her head around their mirroring features. She even entertained the thought of him being a distant relative of hers. "Can you tell me more about what my friend's been up to? I've been pretty busy lately, so we haven't been able to spend much time together." Due to her duties as an overseer, most of her time had been spent out and about, even in mornings when fighting was strictly prohibited in order to punish anyone breaking the rules.
The woman launched into a spree, telling stories of Shirou's kindness and assistance, earning him endearing names from the townsfolk. Jeanne's admiration for Shirou grew as she listened, realizing how much he'd been doing for Trifas in her absence.
Watching Shirou engage with the locals, Jeanne nodded in approval. "As expected of the Lord's chosen. May your kindness continue to bring joy to others," she praised, clasping her hands in a silent prayer. Truly, the work of a Saint.
Before the morning rush even came, they returned to their apartment laden with goods—gifts from grateful locals who appreciated Shirou's help.
"Well, looks like we didn't need to pay for anything at all, that's good," he stiffled a laugh while plopping down the plastic bags filled with ingredients on the table.
"Do you like helping people, Shirou?" Jeanne softly asked, her amethyst eyes gazing into his own.
"To be completely honest with you, not really," he shook his head. But before Jeanne could get a word in, he continued, "But that doesn't mean I won't do it. I don't need a reason to help someone when I can, right? It takes no time and I feel rewarded for doing it." He meant it in a figurative and a literal sense. Despite the fact that helping people doesn't rake in as much experience points as before, he still did it. Without his notice, he gradually grew to like the act of aiding others.
A smile bloomed on Jeanne's face after hearing his full thoughts on the matter. From everything she's heard and seen of him, he was most definitely deserving of the Lord's grace.
The pair then enjoyed breakfast together, relishing each other's company. After the meal, Shirou headed to the bathroom for a shower, while Jeanne lingered in the common room, her gaze sweeping over the apartment. She noticed the changes Shirou had made since they first arrived, transforming the once ordinary space into a cozy haven.
Impressed by Shirou's skill with household tasks and his popularity in the community, Jeanne couldn't help but think of him as the perfect housewife. As she rose from her seat, she decided to enter in the bathroom, where the sound of running water indicated Shirou's presence. She tossed some extra clothes into the washing machine and neatly folded the dried ones, storing them, before turning her attention to Shirou as he emerged from the shower, towel in hand.
"Jeanne?" Shirou's surprised voice echoed through the bathroom as he stepped out.
"Ah, Shirou, I was just..." Jeanne's voice faltered as she caught sight of his naked form, her cheeks flushing crimson. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling as if steam were rising from her head. "Wha-w-wha—pardon me!" With a hurried excuse, she darted out of the room, leaving Shirou abandoned in utter bewilderment.
Later, after Shirou dressed, they sat across from each another. Jeanne fidgeted nervously while her companion wore an unreadable expression.
"Hang on a minute," Shirou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You thought I was a girl this whole time? But we've spent the last few days together, no?"
Jeanne, unable to meet his gaze, trembled before responding, "Um, y-yes. It's just that you really look like a girl, and the way you do things around the house reminds me of my momma a lot. I just assumed you just preferred to dress as a man… um—I'm sorry," the Saintess lowered her head in shame. She finally understood why he was weirded out when she offered to share the bed with him on their first day together.
Shirou's eyes twitched momentarily, a feeling of something crumbling within him arose before he composed himself. "I mean, guys can cook too," he sighed again. But then, Shirou thought, his appearance and hobbies certainly didn't help him appear masculine; rather, quite the opposite. 'Damn Saber-face title,' he cursed inwardly. 'And why do I feel like this wouldn't be a one time thing?'
"You know what, let's just forget about it. There's no harm done." Like the sane-minded person that he is, Shirou chose to drop this incident and move on. Was he embarrassed of this little incident? A bit, yeah. But no one was at fault for what happened.
"Uhm, okay. Again, I'm really sorry," she repeated. A shade of pink tinted her face as a brief image of Shirou's figure flashed across her head.
"Stop that, no need to apologize. It was an accident—a pretty stupid one, but still an accident." He then stood up from his seat and caressed the top of Jeanne's head, his motions slow and tender. The sudden touch briefly startled the Saintess, but the soothing atmosphere that surrounded him halted her from making a move.
[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to E - 2] A familiar screen popped up before me, which I hastily dismissed in slight annoyance.
END.
Author's notes: I'll tell you this right now, this small interlude won't contain much fight scenes.
