He Tore Through The Holy Grail War, And You Still Call Him A Dragon?

The torrential rain wove a canopy of iron-gray, stretching endlessly across the horizon.

Shirou sat alone on the eaves, cross-legged in the downpour. The cold wind whipped at his clothes, yet the icy rain never soaked him—not even a drop.

A faint "flame" rose from his skin, forming a thin fiery canopy that burned the rain away, evaporating it into a mist of white steam.

From afar, he looked like a human-shaped furnace.

Inside, his heart pumped with immense force, sending magical energy far beyond the capacity of ordinary magi coursing through his circuits. That energy escaped outward through the flames, mingling with the vast sea of elements in the world.

With his "mind's eye" as the center, and using the Daoist method of inner contemplation, he visualized and studied all external phenomena:

The rain splashing into white ripples.

The wind chime swaying at the eaves.

The verdant trees on the mountain in the distance.

The steel-gray city skyline…

To gaze upon the universe above, and to observe the multitude below.

The world that birthed and transformed all things became perceptible to his senses, then gradually took shape within his mind.

Thus was born the so-called inner landscape—the heart's image.

To do this, one had to abandon stray thoughts and discard distractions.

Like a precision instrument, he used the mind's eye to record everything before him, constructing and reshaping it within.

The fiery canopy above him stood firm amid the storm. It connected him to the rain, but also seemed to smelt his very being.

To forge bone into swords, one must first gather ore and hammer steel.

To make blood like iron, and the heart like crystal, one must first burn as a furnace, raising raging fire.

Nono stepped outside, splashing into puddles. She took one glance at the downpour and retreated to the eaves. The rain still ran down her collar, wrinkling her brow.

"Shirou, why are you sitting on the roof in this weather?" she shouted through the rain.

Shirou slowly opened his eyes.

His pupils reflected the entire city: skyscrapers rising like blades stabbing into the heavens.

"I'm visualizing."

Nono leaned against a wooden pillar, shrugging. "Ever since you started reading those Daoist scrolls, you're looking more and more like some enlightened master."

"I can hardly claim that title. At best, I've only taken a first step through the gate."

He leapt down lightly, abandoning his meditation.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

Shirou noticed her wet hair and the towel around her neck. She had clearly followed Xia Mi earlier, but the shadow on her face showed she had come back empty-handed.

He also noticed the other towel in her hand. Her eyes flicked toward his dry clothes. Clearly, she'd intended to offer it, not knowing he had his own way of drying off.

Shirou smiled and took it anyway, easing the awkwardness.

Nono folded her arms, shaking the wet fringe from her forehead. "Nothing. To be precise—I lost her halfway through."

Shirou wasn't surprised. If Nono hadn't hidden her red hair, Xia Mi would have noticed even faster.

"But isn't that the strange part? If she realized I was following, why avoid me? By her excuse, she only went to see her brother."

Nono kicked at the puddles with long, slender legs. Xia Mi's act had been flawless, but in hindsight, she was hiding something.

Shirou nodded slowly. "That girl shouldn't harbor ill intent. If she did, she's had countless chances while living with us."

"She's still hiding something."

Her gaze held his, silently asking—do we dig deeper, or maintain peace? The choice was his.

"…For now, let's delay," Shirou decided. "I'll speak with her directly when I find the chance."

He turned back toward the rain—only for Nono to grab his sleeve.

"Wouldn't your visualization be easier from the sky?"

"You mean…?"

"Since Melusine's free now, have her take you flying. Her wings spread, supersonic—perfect for viewing the entire Kanto plain."

"You really love working her to death, huh…" Shirou muttered, glancing at the narrow sky framed by walls.

He turned back just in time to see Nono kick off her soaked jeans.

"Hey! Don't just throw your pants on the floor—!"

"I'm going to shower!" she called, leaving without a backward glance.

Shirou shook his head at the damp jeans in his hand. They were cool, faintly fragrant. He gave them a shake, then tossed them into the laundry basket. He wasn't about to indulge in any strange fetishes.

"Melusine."

He found her curled up in a corner, trying to nap in secret.

"…Mm?" She rubbed her eyes, tail swishing. Shirou grabbed her hand, pulling her along.

The rain's chill drifted in, making her nose twitch.

"Come on, let's fly a bit. What's wrong? Don't you like flying?"

"I just… don't like water," she murmured, eyeing the storm and her brand-new casual clothes.

…A few minutes later.

Boom—

The black wings spread, rain hammering against them like war drums.

Shirou sat in a rough seat of her scales, flames rising from him to keep them dry.

Together they soared amid thunderclouds, like a stealth jet vanishing into the night sky.

Below, the city lights glittered—streetlamps, car headlights, neon. Humanity never seemed troubled by the darkness of day.

Shirou strengthened his vision, gazing down.

Details blurred at this height, but details weren't the point. What mattered was impression, comprehension—and most of all, will.

That was the essence of the inner landscape.

But even so, to project one's reality into the world—to manifest a Reality Marble—there was still a missing step.

What was it…?

His gaze fell on a familiar building. "…That's the Genji Heavy Industries tower, right?"

Melusine, ever quick, nodded. "Yes."

"It looks shorter than before. Fewer floors?"

Her tone turned smug. "…That was me."

"Don't sound so proud," Shirou sighed, knocking her lightly on the head. "Take me down there. Since we're here, let's have a look."

————

Gen Ujitoki strode toward the detention sector, meeting the robed priest waiting at the gate.

He had already summoned his father, Uesugi Koshirō, who hurried over upon hearing his son had awakened.

"Ujitoki, why did your brother sleep so long before waking?"

They entered a special elevator. Uesugi leaned against the wall, speaking idly. He recalled knocking out Kazama Ruri, but he was sure his strength hadn't been enough to harm a hybrid of that level.

"Because of his Servant's battle traits. The strain is heavy." Just thinking of Ibaraki Dōji casually burning buildings gave Ujitoki a headache.

Thankfully, Watanabe no Tsuna was far more straightforward.

Uesugi nodded—he had seen Servants fight before. "And what of your Servant? If they clash again, it could be troublesome."

"Don't worry, Father. Both are recovering in spirit form. Even if that Berserker tried something, Saber would restrain her instantly. Besides, we control her Master."

Uesugi frowned. His son's detached tone when speaking of his brother troubled him.

"Ujitoki," he asked gravely, "what do you intend to do with him?"

"He's second only to the King in the Demon Faction. The clan needs his intel. The detention sector already holds other turncoats from the Kanto branch. We must know how deep their roots go."

"And in the end?"

Ujitoki's eyes stayed on the steel doors. "In the end, I must act for the greater good. Years ago, I failed to kill him on that mission. Because I spared that demon, he rose again in the Demon Faction, bringing us to this crisis."

His voice carried guilt, as if he could already see his brother's face behind the door.

"Father, I never told you… but years ago, Ujiko already fell. He was the mastermind of a serial murder case in our hometown. Forgive me—for failing to execute him then. Now, as a slayer of demons, as head of the clan, I must—"

"Enough!"

Ujitoki froze.

The old Shadow Emperor's face darkened, his voice rumbling like a storm.

"Who taught you this nonsense? You speak of guilt, but only because you didn't kill your brother sooner. You apologize for sparing him. Tell me, since when did clan honor outweigh your brother's life?"

His glare cut deep.

"Is it because of that damned throne you sit on now? That empty 'glory' of being Shadow Emperor? You and your brother are equal in my heart. Yet you would sacrifice him for so-called duty?"

He spat on his own former title, weary of the tragedies it had brought their family.

"Father, calm yourself. Ujiko has become a demon—killing for pleasure—"

"Then answer me! What demon longs for his brother? What demon still harbors a naïve love?"

"After all these days, are you sure blood tests alone prove him fallen? When you first learned of those murders, did you even ask him why? Did you ask your brother for the truth?"

Ujitoki faltered. He had only judged by Ruri's actions, by the slaughter he'd witnessed in that town, and raised his blade as justice demanded.

…Had he been wrong?

Seeing his son lower his head, Uesugi's tone softened.

"This twisted sense of justice—did it come from your foster father, that Herzog professor? He's a schemer. He molded you into a cold tool. Wake up, Ujitoki. Investigate carefully. Perhaps the truth isn't so simple."

Ujitoki forced a bitter smile. "Back then, I was naïve. I still sang 'Big Friend of Justice,' thinking myself a hero of justice."

Uesugi shook his head. "Harsh as it sounds—you're worse than Shirou. That boy may have many flaws… aside from stealing Erii away. But I can tell—he would never, for the sake of hollow justice, raise his hand against those close to him."

(End of Chapter)

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