Fuyuki – Miyama Town, Emiya Residence
The silver moonlight spread across all of Fuyuki, bathing rooftops and empty streets alike. In the calm of night, the chirping of crickets played softly — like a background score for the stillness here.
Deep within an old, traditional Japanese-style house, a red-haired figure walked slowly toward the storage shed. His hand gripped a handheld transceiver tightly, brows slightly furrowed. As he pushed the shed door open, he flicked the switch and spoke in a questioning tone:
"Sensei, I'm at the shed now… So where's this summoning circle you were talking about?"
From the radio came a voice — urgent, yet carrying the lazy undertone of a shut-in NEET:
"Uh… you see that white sheet on the floor? Pull it off, and you'll see."
Shirou did as instructed.
He stepped into the middle of the shed, where a white sheet lay perfectly flat on the wooden floor. Bending down, he yanked it aside — and instantly, a magic circle carved into the stone beneath was revealed. Its intricate lines seemed to faintly thrum under the moonlight streaming in through the window's gaps.
Straightening, he tossed the sheet into a corner, then brought the radio to his lips again:
"By the way, Sensei… why aren't you here explaining this in person? What are you hiding in your room for? Don't tell me someone scared you."
On the other end, Zoth's voice came through — trembling, edged with helplessness:
"What else am I supposed to do!? She's been summoned! I'm not letting Jeannette drag me out for a lecture… And besides… I don't have the face to see her again…"
Shirou frowned slightly, scratching his head, staring at the radio in suspicion for a few seconds before deciding not to push the matter. He took a breath, refocusing:
"Alright, Sensei, so what do I do now?"
"All you need to do is recite the summoning incantation I taught you before."
Shirou gave a small nod, gratitude clear in his voice:
"Alright… Thanks for letting me take part in this Holy Grail War."
"Think nothing of it… I know the Fourth Holy Grail War took your family from you, and that's why you bear such resentment toward it. But I'm not like Kiritsugu… Go. Follow the path you've chosen. Just remember one thing—once you set foot on this road, there is no turning back. Understand?"
"Understood!"
"Good… Shirou, begin your summoning."
Shirou took another deep breath and stepped forward, one deliberate pace at a time, until he stood at the center of the magic circle. He raised his hand, eyes locking onto the array with full concentration—only to pause, turning toward the radio again:
"Sensei… I don't have a catalyst. How am I supposed to summon a Servant?"
A loud clap clap clap came from the other side, followed by Zoth's furious shout:
"Have you forgotten!? Kiritsugu already put your catalyst inside you! Avalon, dammit!! A! Va! Lon! Just recite the chant, you idiot!"
Shirou scratched his head, giving an awkward laugh. Only now, with Zoth's reminder, did he recall that Avalon had long been implanted within his body by Kiritsugu. Without another moment's hesitation, he clenched his fist, drew every ounce of focus, and began to recite:
"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill… Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."
"I hereby declare. Your body shall serve under me. My fate shall be your sword."
"Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you will submit to this will and this reason… Then answer!"
"An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!"
"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power… Come forth from the ring of restraints, Protector of the Holy Balance!"
The light inside the shed suddenly dimmed, as though an invisible hand had veiled it, leaving only thin strands of moonlight streaming through the window to fall across Shirou's face.
The magic lines carved into the floor began to glow, trembling faintly as if awakening, radiating a cold yet fierce azure light.
The air thickened. Waves of magical pressure pressed down, making Shirou feel as though his chest was being compressed.
Each word of the incantation left his lips and echoed through the shed, merging with a low, rumbling hum like waves pounding against sheer cliffs.
When the final verse ended, the center of the magic circle blazed with blinding light.
A pillar of radiance erupted upward, followed by a violent swirl of wind that hurled dust into the air and rattled the old objects lining the shed.
Shirou squinted, raising an arm to shield his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Within the light, a silhouette began to take form—first armored boots, then a royal-blue skirt rippling gently in the wind, and finally a suit of silver plate that reflected the magic circle's glow.
The wind died down. The light faded.
Standing before Shirou was a blonde-haired female knight, her hair tied neatly back, her deep blue eyes like the vast sky itself.
In her hand was a sword sheathed in an invisible barrier, exuding a dignified pressure impossible to mistake.
She tilted her head slightly, her clear gaze sweeping over Shirou before she spoke—her voice low, resonant:
"I will ask once more… Are you my Master?"
Shirou swallowed, his heartbeat tight, but answered with a firm nod:
"Yes… I am Emiya Shirou, your Master."
Her eyes narrowed, as though appraising him one last time, before she nodded. Every movement radiated precision and the bearing of a warrior tempered by countless battles.
"Emiya… I understand. I am the Servant, Saber. By our contract, I shall wield my sword to protect you until the Holy Grail War's end."
Shirou nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He focused briefly, feeling the flow of his magical energy transfer to Artoria, then turned to her and spoke:
"Saber, next we'll discuss our battle strategy. Please, follow—"
Before he could finish—BOOM!—a deafening explosion rocked the house.
Shirou flinched, instantly suspecting the magi they'd fought earlier had returned for revenge.
But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something shooting away from the house, punching through the roof and disappearing into the night sky.
Artoria reacted in an instant. She leapt onto the roof, her sharp gaze tracking the object's flight path.
Bathed in moonlight, it revealed its form—a golden-bladed sword, its hilt a deep violet etched with crimson veins, the grip a pitch black. As it streaked away, it left a trail of darkness behind it, like liquid shadow spilling into the air.
Sensing its abnormality, Shirou raised his radio:
"Sensei, what's that sword?"
On the other end, Zoth's voice came, pausing briefly before letting out a soft chuckle:
"Ah… that? Nothing to worry about. It's just searching for its master. Its name is Ankokuken Kurayami—the Dark Sword of the Waning Moon, Sacred Sword of shadow and sealing."
"And… who's its master?" Shirou frowned, rubbing his chin.
"Him?" Zoth gave a dry laugh. "A man who once called himself a Hero of Justice… but was betrayed by the very path he chose."
"Hero of Justice?" Shirou repeated, his gaze dimming slightly.
"Enough about that. Just get the Ahoge King inside before other Masters spot her. That'll be trouble."
"…Got it."
Shirou switched off the radio, looked up at Artoria, and called out:
"Saber! Get inside, we need to plan our next move."
Hearing this, Artoria sheathed her invisible blade and replied solemnly:
"Understood, Master."
She landed lightly and strode toward Shirou, her presence blending dignity with calm weight. Shirou gave a small nod, pointing to himself:
"Ah… Saber, you don't need to call me 'Master.' Just call me by my name."
"Shirou? If that is your wish… very well, I will."
"Mm. And I'll still call you Saber. Funny enough, my alias is also Saber—Kamen Rider Saber."
At that name, Artoria's eyes trembled faintly. A flicker of memory crossed her mind, making her grip her fist and murmur:
"Kamen… Rider? How ironic… Two Grail Wars, and both times I've encountered someone claiming that name… and now my Master…"
"Hm? What was that, Saber?" Shirou asked over his shoulder.
"Nothing… It's nothing. Just a coincidence." Artoria waved it off with a small smile, brushing the thought away.
Shirou sensed something off but didn't pry—it was her private matter. He continued leading her into the house she was once familiar with, a place she had shared with Irisviel.
As Shirou gave her a brief tour—BANG!—the front door suddenly slammed open. A figure dashed past at incredible speed.
Shirou now found himself holding a note, scrawled in handwriting only a doctor's prescription could rival:
"I'm off to check on the remaining member of the Sword of Logos!!
And if that Ahoge King says she's hungry, brace yourself—you're about to experience something called Hell Kitchen~
— Signed: Your beloved teacher, Zoth Vari-El (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ"
Shirou scratched his head, still wondering who "the remaining member" was, when—
Artoria stepped up, her expression grave. She furrowed her brows, meeting his gaze with solemn intensity:
"Shirou, I have realized something very important. Please, listen to me."
Shirou immediately straightened:
"I'm listening, Saber. Go ahead."
Artoria placed a hand over her stomach, her ahoge drooping, her cheeks tinged red as she looked away:
"…I'm hungry."
"Huh ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?"
"I said… I'm hungry… (,,¬﹏¬,,)"
At that moment, Shirou finally understood Zoth's warning—and the true reason behind the nickname Ahoge King.
He stared at her for a few seconds, then gave a resigned smile:
"Alright… I'll cook for you. Please wait a moment."
Shirou headed into the kitchen. Behind him, Artoria calmly seated herself cross-legged at the wooden table, posture straight but eyes tracking his every move.
Originally, he'd only planned enough for himself and Zoth.
When it was done, Shirou brought the bowl over and set it in front of her as a matter of courtesy.
Without hesitation, Artoria gave a small nod… and began.
The sound of spoon, chopsticks, and even the gentle simmer of food vanished instantly. In a single breath, the bowl was spotless—so clean Shirou could see his reflection in it.
He froze, eyes wide, his mind flooding with question marks. His mouth twitched several times, just as he opened it to say something—
"Another bowl, please, Shirou."
Her voice was even, unhurried, yet it sent a chill down his spine.
From then on, the small kitchen became a battlefield.
Shirou worked non-stop like a chef during peak hours—water boiling, knives chopping, the air thick with the smell of cooking—while the only customer sat in place, demolishing every dish at inhuman speed.
It wasn't long before Shirou was breathing hard, sweat beading on his brow. And in that moment, he fully, deeply understood the note Zoth had left behind:
"You'll know what Hell Kitchen is when that Ahoge King says she's hungry."
---
Fuyuki – Miyama Town, Southern District
In the southern part of Miyama Town stood a Western-style house with red roof tiles and white walls. Moss mottled the surface, and tangled vines crawled up its sides, giving it an aged yet faintly ominous air. The atmosphere around it was so still that passersby would unconsciously slow their steps, an unease settling in their hearts.
Neighbors whispered rumors that the place was haunted—though the truth was nothing of the sort.
This was the Tohsaka residence.
Inside, the lights were on, yet the air was unnervingly quiet. In one room, the floor was littered with shattered wood, furniture overturned, and a gaping hole in the ceiling revealed the night sky beyond.
Amid the wreckage stood a man with white hair, tanned skin, clad in a crimson coat over light black armor, hands braced on either side, a self-assured half-smile curling his lips.
Facing him was a black-haired girl with twin-tails, wearing a long-sleeved red top, a short black skirt, high socks, and polished black shoes. Arms folded across her chest, her cold eyes were fixed on the Servant she had just summoned.
"Let me make one thing clear," Rin spoke evenly, without a shred of emotion. "You are my Servant. No one else's. The Master–Servant relationship should be clear from the start."
"Mm… I completely agree," Archer tilted his head, his voice drawn out with a hint of provocation. "But… what proof do you have that you're my Master?"
Rin immediately raised her hand, revealing the three Command Spells etched into her skin, her gaze unblinking as she answered:
"Here. Clear enough, isn't it?"
Archer's eyes widened slightly, then closed again as he let out a sigh, as though hearing something tedious.
"Honestly… Is that all you have to say? That meaningless little mark isn't what I wanted to see."
He rose to his feet and stepped toward Rin, his tone dropping lower:
"What I want to see… is someone truly worthy of my obedience."
"So what you're saying is… I'm not good enough to be your Master?" Rin's brow arched, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"Unsatisfactory? Absolutely. But I know full well you're my Master." Archer placed a hand on his hip, a sly grin on his face. "That said… I have one condition: in the battles to come, I won't follow a single order from you. I trust you have no objections."
Rin stood still, her hand curling into a tight fist, her voice dropping low:
"You begrudgingly acknowledge me… but refuse to obey? You are my Servant, aren't you?"
Archer casually moved to the side, settling into a chair with one leg crossed over the other, his lazy gaze hiding a cold glint:
"Yeah. But only in name. I'll listen to you normally. But when it comes to battle, I'll act on my own. You'd be better off finding a safe place to hide once the Holy Grail War begins."
His eyes caught the faint tremor in Rin's hand—a tremor born of anger. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Oh? Did I make you angry? Of course I did. And I'm not exactly impressed with this study either. In the end, I was summoned to secure victory for my Master—whoever that happens to be. Leave everything to me, and you… just watch. I don't expect anything from you."
Rin's cheeks flushed red with fury, both hands clenching tight.
"Now I'm mad."
She spun on her heel, the hand with the Command Spells raised, her other hand gripping her wrist as if to focus her strength.
"Fine! If you insist on acting like this… then I'll use a Command Spell!!"
Archer's expression changed instantly.
"Wait!! Don't tell me you're going to waste a Command Spell on something this petty! Who the hell—"
"Silence!" Rin cut him off sharply, her eyes flashing with haughty pride. "You are my Servant, aren't you? That means you will OBEY every command I give!"
With that, she brought the Command Spell down.
—Ting! A faint chime rang out, and magical energy burst forth like a swirling gale, wrapping around Archer and forcing his body to move as ordered. On the back of Rin's hand, the three marks had now dwindled to two.
Archer staggered slightly, his teeth clenched, irritation written plainly on his face.
"You're… insane! Who uses a Command Spell for something like this? Unbelievable…"
Rin turned her face slightly away, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.
"L-let's talk somewhere else… Follow me."
She pivoted on her heel and left the ruined room. Archer, swallowing his irritation, moved to follow—only for the moment to be ripped apart—
—BOOM!!
A violent explosion shook the entire manor. Archer's brow furrowed at once, magical energy flaring as his hand swept out, ready to summon his twin swords, Kanshou and Bakuya, through Projection.
But suddenly, a long, pitch-black object shot straight toward him. Archer braced to deflect—only for it to halt in midair. The sword's tip hovered mere inches from his chest, then gently dropped into his hand, as if it had always belonged there.
His fingers closed tightly around the hilt. His eyes widened, breath catching.
"…Kurayami…? How…?"
"Archer? What's going on? That sword…?" Rin turned back, her gaze sharp with curiosity.
"This…" Archer's voice lowered, tone heavier than usual. "An old weapon of mine. Nothing to be concerned about."
He sheathed Kurayami, almost absently sliding the two accompanying Wonder Ride Books into his belt—an ingrained habit.
Rin didn't press the matter further. She gave the sword one last glance before turning away, her tone curt:
"Come on. We'll talk in another room."
Archer followed in silence, though his gaze kept drifting to the blade. In his mind, questions churned like a rising storm:
Master Logos… why return this sword to me now? Are you… taking part in the Holy Grail War as well?
A small slip of paper wedged between the sword's fittings caught his eye. Archer pulled it free, scanning the hastily scrawled lines:
If you wish to abandon your past, I will grant you a new identity. Emiya-kun, just like in Bayeux… I've kept my promise. Now, it's time for you to return under my banner! You are no Hero of Justice. You are the swordsman of Logos, wielder of Kurayami—Kamen Rider Calibur!
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he crumpled the note in his hand.
"Of course… Master Logos. From the moment you severed my contract with Alaya, I belonged to the Sword of Logos. From that day, I ceased to be Emiya Shirou… and became Kamen Rider Calibur—the Black Swordsman of the Sword of Logos."
He let the crumpled paper fall, following after Rin, his expression once again calm—yet deep within, a faint, relieved smile lingered. For in that moment, one thing was certain: this Holy Grail War had already strayed beyond control… and fate itself had shifted.
---
Far to the south of Miyama Town, a lone figure hovered in the air, his gaze fixed on the events unfolding in the distance. From this height, he observed the Tohsaka estate… and the corner of his mouth curled into a faint smirk.
It was Zoth.
One hand propped under his chin, the other resting on his elbow, his expression carried a strange blend of amusement and cruel delight as his deep voice murmured:
"Now then… I hope everything's ready… but… what exactly is the thing threatening all of humanity here…? Tsk! Damn it! What the hell is that thing that's blocking the future!?"
Suddenly, Zoth clutched his head and let out a raw, frustrated wail.
For six long years, he had never forgotten Storious's warning: the Fifth Holy Grail War would mark the day this world is destroyed. Ever since, Zoth had been searching for the cause—and a way to prevent it… but in the end, he'd found nothing.
Yes. For years, he had been opening [Omni Visions], wielding every power of the Omni Force to hunt for the source of that threat. And yet, it was as if some invisible veil blocked his sight, shrouding the future in darkness.
"Damn it, I'm tired… Fine, I'll just lie back and deal with it when the disaster comes…"
He descended to the ground, ruffling his hair in irritation. Then, abruptly, he spun a full 180 degrees and burst out laughing:
"Screw it! I'll enjoy life for now! Let that thing go to hell!"
Whistling, he began humming some anime OP about a robotic cat from the future.
But right then—a voice as soft as it was unexpected rang out from behind him:
"…Zoth?"
He froze. Completely.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down from his temple, and a chill shot down his spine. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder… and his face went pale.
Jeanne d'Arc.
Zoth took a deep breath, cleared his throat. In a heartbeat, he slipped on a face mask and glasses, slicked his hair back save for one lock hanging over his forehead, then turned around with arms spread wide, his voice dropping into an impassive tone:
"Yokosho, Watashi no Soul Society… My name is Aizen Sōsuke, not Zoth Vari-El. You must have mistaken me for someone else, miss. I'm simply on my way back to the Gotei 13—would you happen to know the way?"
Jeanne's eye twitched. She rubbed her forehead, dark lines of exasperation practically visible. Exhaling, she narrowed her eyes—cold enough to pierce bone.
Sensing the killing intent, Zoth straightened up at once, stiff as a board, and continued:
"I take it you don't know the way to the Gotei 13… My apologies for the disturbance, perhaps we'll meet again someday!"
He turned on his heel to leave—only for a cool yet unyielding hand to land on his shoulder with a thump.
A jolt like lightning shot down his spine. He froze, slowly turning his head… to meet Jeanne's gaze.
On her lips was a smile—radiantly angelic. So radiant, in fact, that Zoth felt his chest tighten, his throat go dry. The chill from her hand seeped straight into his bones.
"And where exactly do you think you're going… my dear knight Zoth~?"
He averted his eyes, his voice trembling as if about to crack:
"Ah… Jeannette, wait… Let me explain—"
Before he could react, her arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him close.
Her breath brushed warm against his neck—warm, yet faintly trembling.
And then… her voice broke, trembling on the edge of tears:
"Idiot Zoth… I finally… finally found you. I thought… the Counter Force had erased you… I searched for you everywhere… but the Throne of Heroes had no record of you… I thought… I thought…"
Zoth shut his eyes tight, his heart twisting painfully.
"…Jeannette… I'm sorry… it was my—"
He didn't dare turn around.
Partly because he feared seeing her tears… and partly because he wasn't sure he had the courage to face them.
But Jeanne refused to let him hide.
Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and with a firm pull, she turned him to face her—eyes shining, brimming with tears.
She removed his mask and glasses, revealing the face she had etched deep into her memory.
Her fingers trembled as they brushed his skin, her voice a whisper, as though afraid to break the moment:
"No… it wasn't your fault. It was mine… I pushed you down that path. But… thank God… He's given me this chance to see you again, Zoth."
He grasped her hand, clutching it as if afraid it might vanish.
No matter how hard he tried, tears still welled up and slid hot down his cheeks.
Finally, he could no longer hold back.
He pulled Jeanne into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. His arms trembled, holding her so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Between ragged breaths, his voice cracked:
"I'm sorry… Jeannette… It's my fault… You can hit me, curse me, punish me… Anything… I should never… have committed those atrocities…"
Jeanne only shook her head.
One hand pressed firmly to his back, the other slid into his hair, stroking gently—like soothing a lost child finally returned home.
Her smile was soft… as light as a breeze.
"I know… my Zoth isn't that kind of man. As long as you know your mistakes… and want to change… that's enough. I'm… truly happy to see you again."
Zoth drew in a deep breath, as if trying to carve this moment into his very bones.
He lifted his head, eyes red yet smiling with genuine warmth:
"Of course I'll give up that cruel, bloodthirsty self! Don't worry, Jeannette… I'm no longer the man who laughed at others' suffering."
Jeanne's eyes glistened, her hands folding across her chest as she nodded:
"Then… that's truly good. I knew… you were never that kind of person."
Zoth placed both hands on her shoulders, grinning wide—like a man finally freed of all burdens:
"Come on! I bet you haven't found a place to stay yet, right? I'll take you to my place."
Jeanne pressed her lips together, about to speak, but his hand was already closing around hers, leading her forward.
She shook her head slightly, smiling as she followed.
To her, the sunlight felt warmer now—because at last, she had fulfilled her only wish: to pull the man she loved back from the abyss of his own Madness.