Chapter 272: Amakusa: Master, Do You Have It Out for Me?
"Master, that move was definitely effective."
Now that he had calmed down, Amakusa shouted at Shinji in protest, "But wasn't that just a bit too much?!"
He didn't need Shinji to explain it to him—Amakusa knew this was all for his own good. Still… the thing that had just appeared in front of him was way too terrifying.
"If I've committed some sin, then punish me directly! Don't make me look at that thing!"
While complaining, Amakusa gave the massive "white rabbit" a light kick with his foot.
"What the hell is this?!"
"A spoiler from the future," Shinji replied casually.
With a snap of his fingers, the "rabbit" transformed—returning to the familiar form of Enkidu.
"What?!"
Amakusa stared at his Master, unable to comprehend which wire in his head had short-circuited this time.
"Yeah, I just came up with it," Shinji said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Think of it as a way to add a bit of justification for your actions."
"You mean that ghostly, inhuman... thing from earlier?"
"Amakusa, when you activated the Holy Grail, you caught a glimpse of a possible future—a future where humanity faces its greatest calamity: the Beasts. That vision is what strengthens your resolve to save mankind. It also serves as a nice bit of foreshadowing for what's coming next in the story."
The moment Shinji uttered that term, Amakusa visibly flinched. "Master, are you serious right now?"
Shinji nodded with absolute certainty. "Of course. Making humanity's natural predators the core of the Fate storyline—doesn't that sound epic?"
"You'd better be careful… if you keep going down this path, they might actually—mmph!!"
Before Amakusa could finish his sentence, Shinji rudely clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Don't say it out loud! What if it really happens? Are you going to take responsibility?!"
His tone was dead serious. There was no way the world could handle the appearance of those seven hellish creatures (and truthfully, the actual number far exceeded seven) in this parallel universe. Not in its current state, where mystery and magic had already begun to wane.
They were filming a movie here, not writing a death sentence.
"There's a line we don't cross, even in jest."
"…Master, you're really something else," Amakusa muttered, clearly holding back a mix of frustration and admiration.
He turned his gaze to Enkidu, who was now rapidly cycling through several terrifying Beast forms like a slideshow from hell. With a resigned sigh, he chose not to ask the dozens of questions bubbling in his mind.
Why the hell are you doing this?
How do you even know what those monsters look like?
And if they do actually descend upon us… do you even have a way to stop them?
But Amakusa knew exactly how Shinji would respond—he'd just laugh it off or change the subject. So, he didn't bother asking.
Instead, Shinji smoothly shifted gears, launching into directorial mode. "Okay, Amakusa, here's your character motivation. You're a priest who's made it his life's mission to save humanity. But ironically, you're also the story's main antagonist. You have to embody that contradiction."
"On one hand, your belief in saving mankind is so firm, so unwavering, it becomes fanatical. So when Jeanne denies your method, your reaction should be unusually intense—even aggressive."
"But on the other hand, deep down, you're not blind. You're troubled. Her words do reach you. You just can't help but question whether your path is truly the right one. That inner conflict will create a moment of hesitation."
"And then the real turning point—what seals your resolve—is when you see the 'Lost Future of Mankind.' That vision confirms your belief that using the Third Magic is the only way to save humanity."
Shinji then glanced over to where Jeanne stood, listening in silence.
"You too, Jeanne. You might oppose Amakusa's methods, but that doesn't mean you'll just sit back and let humanity perish. If anything, his mistakes serve to strengthen your own resolve to protect it."
Honestly, if you looked closely, this entire scene had practically nothing to do with Fate/Apocrypha anymore. It was clear Shinji was already laying the groundwork for Fate/Grand Order.
After all, Fate/Apocrypha and Fate/Grand Order both started from the same original draft. Mixing a little flavor between the two wasn't exactly a crime.
That said, foreshadowing had to be handled with care.
Too little—or too vague—and it wouldn't build anticipation. The audience would just feel lost or bored.
Too much—and it would overshadow the actual story.
Shinji had already brought this up before: one of the things audiences hate the most is realizing the movie they're watching is just a commercial for the next one.
Of course, striking that balance was Shinji's responsibility. It wasn't Amakusa or Jeanne's job to worry about that.
"Amakusa," Shinji said, gesturing with calm authority, "take a moment and get back into the mood. I believe Semiramis has full confidence in your acting."
"...Tch."
Amakusa winced. Shinji had definitely mentioned Semiramis on purpose. And internally, Amakusa was already muttering a dozen curses.
But… Shinji's explanation, along with that earlier scare, had genuinely helped him center himself. The irritation that had been clouding his mind had all but vanished.
"Jeanne, let's run it again."
With a quick adjustment to his hair, Amakusa gave her a confident smile.
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This time, Amakusa nailed it.
From the moment he laid eyes on the Beast of Comparison illusion—his face turning ghostly pale—every reaction hit its mark. The shift into confident calm when Jeanne entered the battlefield, the desperate zeal in their philosophical clash, his impassioned declarations of love for humanity… All of it blended into the ideal portrayal of a benevolent-yet-doomed priest.
Even the way he kept repeating his ideals during their battle—using his words to legitimize his actions—evoked the tragic conviction of a martyr walking toward the inevitable.
'What I loved the most,' Shinji thought with a chuckle, 'was the way Amakusa totally freaked out when he saw Koyanskaya Beast form.'
'Seeing that composed face twisted in terror? Hilarious.'
Of course, in the final cut, none of that would make it in.
While the Beast of Comparison appearance scene would carry a bit of a jump scare vibe in post-production, Amakusa's over-the-top reaction didn't suit the character's mental state in the actual story.
'Guess that one's going straight to the blooper reel on the DVD,' Shinji mused.
"…He's thinking of something shady again, isn't he?"
Amakusa shivered under Shinji's amused gaze. He didn't need to hear it to know something evil was cooking.
But once he found his rhythm, Amakusa's performance leveled up dramatically.
"Transformation" might be an exaggeration—but it wasn't far off. Like a man who'd just survived divine judgment, he stepped into his role with newfound energy.
They were nailing scenes in a single take. It was like he was possessed by the spirit of acting itself.
Even the emotional reading—which had been a bit of a nightmare before—was flowing far more naturally now. Thanks to Shinji's earlier coaching, both Rulers were finally syncing with the emotions their characters needed to portray.
All in all, the filming process moved along smoothly for the next few scenes.
That is, until—
"Ugh… I think I'm going to have a fear of sugar for a while."
Amakusa gave a wry smile, carefully avoiding the side of his face that was now half-stained red.
Shinji might've gone all out with the special effects—naked-eye 3D, seat vibrations, even emotional syncing—but smell and taste were still outside of cinematic reach.
So while it looked like blood on Amakusa's face… in reality, it was just syrup with red coloring.
Sugary, sticky syrup.
And after take after take under the hot lights?
Yeah. Enough to give anyone a sugar phobia.
Normally, when a Heroic Spirit had to act out an injury, Shinji had them really make a wound.
After all, they couldn't actually die—and if it made the scene more realistic, Shinji was all for it.
—Except when it came to head wounds.
Head injuries were a different beast entirely. Unlike body wounds, which could be covered up with costumes or armor, head wounds were just there. Front and center. No way to hide the nastiness.
Body injuries? All the audience saw was a burst of blood—no actual gory details.
But head injuries?
If they showed too much of the wound in close-up, the film rating committee would have a field day.
Especially if Shinji insisted on amplifying the effect with a big, bleeding gash…
He could already picture it: the screening halted midway, a rating officer storming in to slam a copy of the film in his face.
In the end, magecraft is not Magic, it's merely a tool—not a miracle. It didn't make everything possible.
So when it came to bloody headshots, Shinji usually defaulted to the good ol' practical effects playbook.
The classic trick: syrup.
A method as old as time in the film world—and a staple for prop masters who couldn't use magecraft. Blood was just sugar syrup with way too much red coloring. Sewer sludge? Chocolate sauce. Breakable beer bottles? Made from hard candy.
It's not that prop teams had a sweet tooth—it was just safer that way. If an actor accidentally licked some, at least it wasn't toxic.
But the psychological damage?
That was another story.
"You know," Shinji muttered, listening to Amakusa's steady stream of syrup-related complaints, "maybe those actresses who say they hate sugar aren't just doing it to stay thin…"
A revelation had struck him. Another truth uncovered.
At least Amakusa, who'd just suffered a traumatic candy-coating, had made his feelings crystal clear:
"I never want to taste syrup again! Not even cough syrup!"
Who could blame him?
To keep the "blood" on his face from drying out, he had to reapply syrup every so often during shooting.
And thanks to the intense fight scenes and long lines of dialogue, some of it inevitably dripped into his mouth.
It wasn't the sugar that bothered him—it was the fact that it looked and felt like real blood.
Every sticky gulp sent his brain into revolt.
And after a few hyperactive combat scenes?
He was officially over it.
"I swear, my Saint Graph's been pickled in sugar. I'm bound to get syrup-induced diabetes…"
By the time they wrapped filming, Amakusa's face wore the expression of a man who'd just seen the void—and the void tasted like cherry-flavored trauma.
Meanwhile, the demon himself—Shinji—was quietly whispering to EMIYA the cameramen:
"Record every second of Amakusa's breakdown. Slap it together with the blooper reels and throw it in the teaser trailer."
"Master…"
Amakusa let out the whimper of a bullied soul.
"Aw, don't take it so seriously, Amakusa," Shinji said, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulder with a dazzling grin. "Bloopers are supposed to be funny! Who wants to watch something boring and serious?"
Amakusa turned his eyes to Jeanne. The message was clear: Help me out here. He's milking me dry—shouldn't he be picking on someone else too?
Even God said you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket!
But Shinji, with the finesse of a man who definitely understood but was absolutely pretending not to, just handed him a folded newspaper.
"C'mon, don't pout. Tonight, your Master's treating you to something guaranteed to lift your spirits."
Amakusa opened it up, checked the schedule—
"Magical Illya"
"...Master. Are you seriously treating me like a little girl?!"
His voice cracked with disbelief. Shinji's smile only widened.
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