APOCRYPHAL

     Servants in this city were, in the first place, not so uncommon. By now the boy had gotten used to seeing various Servants here and there-- some he recognized, others he did not. This, however, was a particularly odd case for him.

Vlad Tepes. Vlad III. Vlad the Impaler. A Heroic Spirit with three distinct titles-- and one whom he distinctly recalls from his meeting here, and from what he’s seen elsewhere. But this Servant... was the very same Vlad, according to his True Name Discernment. It wasn’t the only odd thing here, however. This pointy, iron-clad man before him was...

... Mingling with some trash cans and dumpsters in this back alley, as it seemed.

Shirou didn’t particularly feel like asking what this man was doing per say-- but he did take interest in the intimidating man before him. He’d never seen a case like this before.

“-- Are you alright?”

     As such, the boy casually calls out to the other to gain his attention.

‘For one to establish one’s own business, they’ve gotta build some influence first, no?’ He didn’t know too well how the power of propaganda affected this city, but Majima considered himself a better manager than someplace’s owner.

A church boy? He hasn’t seen one of them religious types in a while… last time, there was some strange cult involved where folk seemed to be donned in white pajamas and their leader was a hoax.

‘I’ve been living in Osaka. Well, I was… but I’m originally from Tokyo.’ He replied. ‘Tell me ‘bout this church o’ yours?’ Not that Majima was particularly interested in those matters, but it couldn’t hurt to learn one way or another.

“Yes, that’s indeed true... but at the rate I’ve seen businesses pop up, it’s hard to say. But given the nature of this place, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing is easier to go about doing, here. This isn’t a normal city, after all,” he stated with a thoughtful tone, not having thought much about the subject beforehand. “... But as you said, having some sort of influence beforehand would be highly beneficial.”

     As Majima asks about the church, Shirou’s smile widens faintly.

“Ah, certainly-- though there isn’t much to say, really. The Church of Saint Martha is but a humble Christian church, you see. That said, our doors are open to all who wish to pray, and we often hold prayer services and so on.”

Like a small jolt of electricity kickstarting a machine, he could feel it. A tingling sensation; power flowing through his left arm that he had not felt in over a year, now. Now, of all times...

“... But still, this is only a fraction of what I held before...”

     The boy thought to himself that it was nothing to celebrate over.

‘Oh? What’s your province? Bah, it’s not exactly easy to come by another Japanese man around these parts.’ Majima switched off to Japanese by default, almost instantly giving away the Yakuza-like lingo clung to his speech. ‘Been wonderin’ if ya know where I could get a job in this–’ hole ‘…city.’ Some people liked holes, he didn’t mean to offend them.

“Nagasaki-- although I must admit, I was only born there. I’ve lived abroad most of my life otherwise,” Shirou responded, taking the other’s cue and casually switching to Japanese himself. He’d never dealt with the yakuza before, so the other’s lingo somewhat flies over his head, but Majima’s rough way of speaking gives Shirou a bit of headway into what sort of person he was dealing with. “Job hunting though, huh? Hmm...”

Bolide: What makes you want to give up?

“Hm? What makes me want to give up…”

“Nothing, really. Not any more, at the very least.”

Comet: Who do you like to be with?

“Specifically? If not, then I enjoy the company of like-minded individuals. Those who listen well, too, are people I enjoy spending my time with. Otherwise…”

“At the moment, Jeanne and Martha come to mind– as do a few others. Ushiromiya-san is a tad bombastic, but nice enough… Chidori-san as also someone I enjoy being around. I haven’t seen her in some time, though.”

Eclipse: Is there someone who you think outshines you?

In a way, it only proved that these men playing at gods were still but human, Shirou supposed-- though it wasn’t as if that particularly mattered, nor was it enough to allow any sort of sympathy. His thoughts and feelings, rather, drifted on to the citizens here-- suffering from yet another tiresome charade.

And yet, no matter how many times some sort of issue like this would arise, he would always be there to offer his help. And with his full repertoire of skills back, that made things easier.

“This way, please!” Voice commanding a mob of frightened men and women, Shirou called out to them-- guiding them through voice alone... to which the people listened without question. “We are still a while away from shelter, however-- place your trust in me. Together, we can escape this terrible threat safe and sound!”

     The natural charisma of a young man who had in the past already lead others was enhanced by his abilities as a Servant proved to be particularly useful during times like this.

Furthermore, finding a safe route through the city by instinct alone was also feasible.

It was the Lord’s will guiding him and his entourage, Shirou believed-- and while it perhaps seemed somewhat random in nature, the boy was effectively leading people away from any and all hot spots of Wraith activity without so much as truly knowing where they were. This use of the Revelation skill was deeply useful, especially in times like these... of course, that didn’t mean some encounters weren’t unlikely, as a stray wraith or two would occasionally appear.

But with his magical abilities unleashed, it was easy to make short work of them.

Such as it was, the boy would find himself quite busy throughout the duration of the event. There were no permanent safe zones, after all. As such, he and the people he gathered, fueled by that desire to simply survive, could only keep on moving.

The priest himself also had motivations for this. Or rather, one single motivation.

He would not, could not lead these innocent people to their deaths.

Aurora: What is the most beautiful thing that you can think of?

Stars: Who do you think of most?

Bolide: What makes you want to give up?

Comet: Who do you like to be with?

Constellation: Is your family blood related?

Eclipse: Is there someone who you think outshines you?

Equinox: What makes you calm?

Galaxy: Who do you want to be?

Meteor: What makes you feel alive?

Nova: When were you happiest?

Orbit: Is there someone you can't stop thinking about?

Solstice: Do you prefer time with friends or time alone?

Sun Spots: What makes you feel bad about yourself?

Zenith: What makes you feel good about yourself?

Oh. Another servant. He began to wonder just how many were here in this city, and how many knew him — he didn’t think this had anything to do with a  Holy Grail War, considering he still hasn’t met anyone claiming to be his master, and none of the servants he’s met thus far have been seen with masters, but better to be safe than sorry, he figured.

He couldn’t make the same mistakes twice, after all.

“Yeah, that’s right. What of it?“

He frowns slightly at the smirk, not really liking that the other knows of his origin while he himself knows very little of the man before him, but he opts instead to give off the impression of nonchalantness. Shifting his hip, he crosses his arms, before answering. “… Can’t say I’m too happy here, considering they took my gun from me, but .. Reckon it’s better than being dead.”

He smirks at his own joke, straightening his body as he rests a palm on his hip instead. “Shirou, huh? Well, howdy, Ruler Shirou. Are you enjoying your stay?” He leans in slightly, “Heh. You can just call me Archer for now. Maybe if you’re good I’ll tell you my real name, if ya don’t already know what it is.”

     Naturally, he wasn’t trusted-- it was evident enough by the young man’s reaction.

“I see,” Shirou starts, musing to himself for a moment. A simple reason to be nonplussed, but who wasn’t bothered to not have their armaments or powers, here? It was a hassle for even him, after all. That said, as the other offers a casual jest, the boy’s own smile grows ever-so-slightly. “I suppose almost anything is better than being dead, right? As for myself, I could say the same. However, I’ve been keeping busy.”

“... And I do already know what it is, yes. True Name Discernment-- or in other words, the privilege of the Ruler class to know the true names of other Servants. I’m afraid from the moment I saw you, I knew.”

     A brief pause follows, and he cants his head slightly aside.

“But, I’ll simply refer to you as Archer if you wish.” 

     Shirou supposed he would offer the other that much, at the very least. Some Servants clung to their class names, after all-- which was natural, of course, yet ultimately unnecessary in such a place as this, however. Unless they had a good reason to hide it, that is.

“Well, it’s not like it appeared for too long. As soon as the reporter started showcasing the place, a woman with a weird cleavage in her outfit came out and told them to go away. Nice to see that the Church is not all about censoring body pride anymore, ihihihi!”

Battler, please, you have a wife.

“As for what I do? I work at Hive Academy as a teachers’ assistant. A tough job, but very worth it, if you ask me. I wish there were more people studying and working there, though.”

     ... Without a doubt, he was referring to lady Martha. Oh dear.

“... Er, yes. That was the head of the church. Though, I wouldn’t advise you to call her that to her face. She would get... rather upset, you see.”

“Lady Martha’s clothing aside, however, you’re a teacher’s assistant? I wouldn’t have guessed, to be frank. Rather, with how you’re usually dressed well, I would assume you to have a more luxurious job,” the boy remarks, truly a tad surprised by the other’s claim. “I’ve met with the head of the academy, once, but I’ve yet to ever visit the school. Nor do I intend to enroll, quite frankly...”

     He had no reason to, really. Even if someone his age would normally still be in school.

“RAAAAAA! Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Mordred howled – monstrous and defiant – her teeth clenched, grinding down to nothing. Again she swung, and again she missed; the arc too wide, her opponent too nimble. Once again, it seemed Kotomine Shirou was one step ahead. Again, he was out of reach, and laughing at her. 

“Argh! Can you keep that mouth of yours closed for five minutes?!” Sadly, no. If he hoped his words would act as a deterrent, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, it had the opposite effect – for every calm, casual sentence Kotomine strung off, Mordred’s hatred only deepened. Her blood boiled, and the only way to rectify it was the demise of the pathetic, fake priest in front of her. 

She swung for his face, and again he side-stepped. “We’re not enemies, huh? Like I care! The only solace I’ll find is in your cleaved head, crushed beneath my boot! That will wipe that stupid, hollow smile off your face!” The Romanian War, and the Grail, was a secondary concern. 

This was revenge, plain and simple.

Giving Kotomine a reprieve from her onslaught, Mordred stepped back and discarded the bat. She needed something longer; something sturdier to slap that smile off his face. Something to beat the senses out of him. Something, anything — and like that, Mordred found it. The perfect weapon. 

Without a second thought, Mordred wrapped her hands around the lamppost and pulled, reefing it entirely from the concrete. She may have been lacking, but she still had some of her strength. Turning to the fake priest, her lips pulled back, Mordred revealed a hungry smile; more bestial than before.

“Hope you’re ready for round two, Ruler.” 

And, like that, Mordred was back on the offensive.

“Honestly...”

     Of course, death didn’t matter here-- so even if he died now, he wouldn’t be out of the picture. But when it came to confrontations such as these, he surely was on the losing side. Of course, it didn’t help that Saber was so bloodthirsty... but it was expected.

Watching her arm herself with an entire lamppost, Shirou was thoughtful enough to give her some space-- rather, a lot of space. He was no fool, after all. That said, now she had much more range than before. It was fortunate he was so spry!

“Permit me to applaud your tenacity. Truly, it’s as expected, Saber.”

“That said, I have no intention of letting any of that happen.”

     Like a matador to a raging bull who saw nothing but red, Shirou casually instigated the other-- before beginning to dash off. At the very least armed with his black keys.

“Hiiiii–YAH!”

     Rattling trees to their roots, frightening small birds into fleeing for their lives, shaking the hearts of any and all who may hear her. This is the call of Saint Martha of Bethany, whose lung capacity is as blessed by God as her determination and muscle, of which she demonstrates with a flying punch into a nearby plant’s stem.

     Which may sound strange until closer examination to find that this plant is alive, seven feet tall and attempting to take a bite out of the holy duo.

     Not on Martha’s watch, of course. A holy woman she may be, but without her staff or powers against enemies, what choice did she have in protecting the both of them? 

     Sighing, it seems that last hit would grant them a bit of peace… for now. She turns to her white-haired, cookie-baking companion, only realizing now that he’d been calling out to her.

     “Hm…?” He didn’t seem hurt, so that’s good. “Ahh… You’re right. Over there is the daffodil that tried to suck out your brain through your nose with its dastardly little vines, ugh….” 

     “Wait a moment, what was that about climbing?… Yes! Great idea, Shirou! But are you up it? You are more of a mage than a fighter, are you not…? I got it! If you just hop on my back then, we can get up there in no time, right?” 

     She promptly squats before the Ruler, sticking her bum out like a frog, ready and willing to give the poor boy a piggy back ride he may never forget.

     She had been so busy protecting him that he had thought she might not hear him (again), but fortunately she seemed to hear the boy’s calls this time. It was curious how Martha seemed to really get into... punching things. But it was saving his hide, so naturally, he had no complaints. Rather, seeing this side of the Saint was fantastic, in some aspects.

He rarely saw such a thing normally, anyways.

“Y... yes,” Amakusa starts, frowning as he recalls the all-to-recent plant trying to worm up his nose-- something he’d like to forget, frankly-- before pausing momentarily as Martha continues. “Eh? ... It’s always worth a try, I suppose. Though I’m not sure how far I can get without tools, frankly. That’s why I...”

     He wanted to firmly state how he wasn’t sure how successful he would be, but then she goes about eagerly... squatting. Oh, dear. At this point, it was too late to dissuade her, too.

Really, when she was so gung-ho like this, it was hard to talk her out of things.

“... Right, then.”