Chapter 28
Emiya
Without much prompting, Carlos rushed him.
Where others were apprehensive, the boy was confident. Tanya and Chris sparred with him regularly, with Missy overseeing, and thus knew his capabilities firsthand. Dean had seen him in combat, and Sophia… he wasn't sure why she hesitated, but the girl had good instincts; perhaps she just sensed his killing intent.
Dennis could read the room well and was alarmed by the other Wards' behavior.
But Carlos? No—he was underestimating Emiya. He still thought Tanya was overselling Emiya's ability to take seven-on-one, even with the restrictions. Emiya suspected the real source of that confidence was knowing his own power would be untouched in this match. The boy was confident he could take Emiya on alone—much less with backup.
Perhaps Carlos' agreement to the exercise had something to do with teaching him some humility—or with teaching Tanya to better judge her teammates' capabilities.
He couldn't fault the reasoning, but unfortunately for the boy, Tanya wasn't the kind of cute, naïve imouto who thought her big brother was the strongest.
No, she was the type to drop a slew of IRS publications in front of him and tell Emiya she'd help him go through them—because they might be a touch difficult for a boy his age. And if he dared point out she was younger, she'd calmly produce the fact that she'd read the relevant sections of the Internal Revenue Code— yes, that was the proper name, not the "U.S. Tax Code"—while what she'd given him was the "kid-friendly" version.
An embarrassing reminder for Emiya that Tanya would never have fallen for Jefferson's scam. She'd have asked three pointed questions, and had the man tripping over his own words before he finished his pitch.
In his defense, Emiya was never what you'd call a diligent taxpayer. In Fuyuki, all such financial matters were handled by… Raiga—yes, that was it—Fujimura Raiga, Taiga's grandfather. In London, he'd lived under Rin's roof, though he'd contributed with his part-time job as Luvia's butler. Should he have filed income taxes on that? No one told him. In hindsight, they'd probably assumed he could handle something as simple as paperwork. A dangerous assumption.
Later in life… well, looting warzones was hardly the sort of income you declared, and Emiya's mercenary pay from the Moonlit side went straight into accounts Luvia had arranged for him.
I'd never truly grasped just how much they'd all done for me… had I?
The realization had a bitter edge, cutting sharper than he expected.
"What are you talking about? Pay attention!" Carlos barked, swinging his shinai in a wide, bat-like arc.
"When your opponent's distracted, you're supposed to take advantage," I chided, deflecting the blow with Kansho in a lazy, almost casual motion.
They had been at it for a while, and Carlos was still relying on raw strength, battering forward with the dogged persistence of someone who believed it would eventually work.
"Case in point." He twisted aside from a sudden backstab—courtesy of Sophia—catching a glimpse of her eyes widening in panic before she dissolved into her shadow state, retreating out of reach. Not that they'd even reached that part of the game yet.
"Anyone else?" Emiya asked, turning aside another of Carlos' strikes with a flick of his wrist.
That did it—the others surged forward. Poorly.
Dennis, closest to the action, lunged in first. Keeping him and Carlos at bay together was no more challenging than handling them one at a time. Their teamwork was surface-level at best: Carlos drove forward like a shield, while Dennis skirted the edges, waiting for an opening to land a touch.
It was a strategy born of their powers—Carlos could absorb hits, Dennis could end a fight with one lucky tag.
Not that it mattered. Emiya kept Carlos squarely in Dennis' line of approach, forcing the latter to keep shifting for an angle that never came.
Another strike from behind—Sophia again—was met with a casual deflection.
She dissolved into shadow, flowing away across the floor before reforming several meters out.
"How the fuck did you know I was coming?" The scowl of her mask matched her tone.
"Dennis stopped circling to give you room. Carlos' mask doesn't cover his eyes—I saw them flick toward you," Emiya said evenly, turning aside another of Carlos' blows without even looking at him.
"Fucking morons!"
It would have been the same without them. Sophia still had to leave her shadow land a hit, and the whisper of her shinai slicing the air was more than enough warning. There were other tells too.
Emiya wondered why she had been materializing earlier than just before the strike. Was it poor timing, or did her power interfere with the force of her swings? From the way she moved in her shadow state, her mass was significantly reduced—yet it didn't seem to affect the kinetic energy of her bolts.
Perhaps it was simply a lack of practice against anyone fast enough to punish the mistake.
Even beyond that, the rules never stated how hard the Wards were supposed to hit Emiya. A single touch of the shinai would have sufficed.
The rest of the Wards—Tanya conspicuously still on the sidelines—piled in. It was chaos. Emiya let them surround him, their attacks coming one at a time in clumsy, uncoordinated bursts, while Carlos kept hacking away at him like a frustrated woodcutter.
He glanced toward Tanya. She met his eyes and gave a slight, knowing nod.
An instant later, his boot sank into Carlos' gut, the Reinforced strike launching the boy clear of the encirclement.
Missy's gaze followed him—mistake. Emiya's fist slammed into her solar plexus. She doubled over, dropping her weapon with a sharp gasp, desperate to draw a breath that wouldn't be coming for some time.
Dennis and Dean attacked from opposite sides. Emiya parried, then sent Bakuya toward the redhead's eyes. The blade bounced off his mask, but it no longer mattered—seeing a sword inches from his eyes made the boy freeze himself instead of dodging. He was out of the fight for now.
Emiya projected another Bakuya and shifted his weight in the same motion to close in on Dean, but a spear cut in between them forcing him to evade. It was a decent thrust from Chris—straight, fast, almost disciplined.
Another backstab.
This time Emiya let Kansho fall from his hand, caught Sophia's shinai mid-swing, and tore it from her grip in one smooth motion. Without pause, he flung it at Dean in a flat spin. Sophia slipped back, while Dean swatted at the incoming strike, missed, and took the impact square on his visor.
The brief stagger was all Emiya needed—he swept Dean's legs out from under him, sending the boy crashing down.
Carlos descended like a hammer. Emiya locked his shinai mid-swing, leaving the boy suspended in the air, but it left him open to Chris' spear and Sophia's sudden rush. She ignored her dropped weapon, throwing quick, sharp punches that barely registered against him but forced Chris to hold back.
Emiya twisted, shoving Carlos' blade off-line. Momentum did the rest—Carlos surged forward into the gap, right into a waiting Reinforced kick. The blow hurled him into Sophia, whose delayed reaction left her no time to phase before they collided hard.
Chris finally engaged, spear tip darting forward in a steady rhythm. He stayed light, almost bouncing on his feet, his eyes flicking constantly to Emiya's stance. Every thrust was followed by a half-step back, poised to retreat the moment Emiya moved too close.
And Miss Militia complained about his training methods. A few weeks and Chris had learned the importance of optimal distance for a spear wielder.
Suddenly, Emiya lost his footing. His balance faltered, forcing him to parry Chris' spear in a hurried, almost clumsy motion before catching himself. A glance down revealed the mats were warped into shallow craters and awkward bumps, all concentrated beneath and just behind him. Chris, meanwhile, stepped on a perfectly flat surface.
Across the room, Missy stood with arms folded. Her expression was cool, faintly smug, and entirely unamused.
Well that was just unfair. Missy was present for almost every spar with Tanya and Chris. Did she expect Emiya to go easy on her?
Danger prickled at his back. Emiya vaulted upward in a tight backward arc—this time, not Sophia, but Dean. The boy's visor tracked him midair, their eyes meeting as Dean's face swept past his own.
Don't just stand there staring, dammit. You've seen me do this before. Act.
To drive home the danger of gawking mid-fight, Emiya hooked his fingers under Dean's helmet, ripping it free and snapping it toward Missy. The throw was surgical, spinning the helmet so it landed backward over her head.
The impact sent her stumbling, blinded, to the floor with a muffled yelp
Still in the air, Emiya rotated his shoulders and hips, hooking a leg around Dean's befuddled head and using the generated momentum to slam the boy on the floor.
The mats cushioned the impact, but Emiya kept his calf between Dean's skull and the floor, careful not to snap his neck under bodyweight. It was more a guided takedown than a true slam, really.
Emiya compensated with palm strike to Dean's temple. Just strong enough to leave him dazed.
Emiya unhooked his leg and swept Bakuya into Chris' spear, knocking it aside. The younger boy had lunged to capitalize on Dean's attack but wasted time cringing at his teammate's fall. The break in focus turned a potential opening into a wasted effort.
Getting to his feet, Emiya spotted Carlos flying in mid-charge, eyes locked and shoulders lowered like a battering ram. Emiya pivoted smoothly out of the way, and Carlos plowed headfirst into Dennis, the frozen boy not moving an inch under the impact.
Out of the corner of his eye, Emiya caught the far side of the room warping—angles bending, the wall receding as if pulled away by invisible hands. Missy had withdrawn toward Tanya, her gaze locked on the distortion, brow furrowed in concentration.
Creating more ground? For what? They needed to close in, not widen the gap, if they wanted to win.
He shifted his gaze to Tanya. She hadn't moved—arms loose at her sides, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on him with unsettling calm.
Something was wrong. Emiya couldn't yet name it, but the tension prickled along his skin.
Maybe the kids were about to try something clever. The point of this exercise was to crush them, beat the individualistic approach out of them, and prepare the Wards to be rebuilt into a cohesive unit. At least, that was Tanya's plan.
She hadn't exempted herself either, insisting that as both a member of the team and the architect of the plan, she'd share in the same hardships.
Shared misery, she'd said, builds camaraderie.
But the stillness around her… the way she just watched… it scraped at his instincts. The longer he thought about it, the more his hackles raised.
Was it the fact that she had yet to lift a finger?
Another thrust came in; Emiya brushed it away, decision already made. Time to stop humoring Chris. He surged forward, shrinking the gap, and the boy instinctively backpedaled to regain space. Not fast enough. Kansho dropped from Emiya's hand as he lunged, fingers locking around the spear shaft, dragging Chris into Bakuya's reach.
He broke off the move—Carlos was up again, charging on feet like a bull. His head swung wildly with each stride, grotesquely pendulous on a neck that didn't seem to be doing its job.
What the…
Emiya sprang back, and Carlos hurtled through the space, colliding full-force with Chris, who had been yanked forward into the path.
Sophia went for another backstab, but Emiya turned toward her, already prepared to counter. The readiness in his stance stalled the girl, locking her in place. Her cape hung in the air, sword held aloft—cape drifting in the still air, sword raised to strike, and then...
Carlos and Chris lay tangled on the mats. Dean was just pushing himself upright, Dennis remained motionless, and Tanya and Missy stood apart.
Which begged the question—whose shinai was sliding out of Sophia's shadow, knifing straight at his face?
Emiya stepped back… and somehow gained no distance. He moved to deflect, but it was too late—his blade wouldn't make it in time.
With a mental sigh, Emiya tilted his head so the blow would crash against his visor rather than shatter his teeth.
The movement also let him catch sight of Missy, wearing a wicked grin and…
Ah. The eyes.
Tanya was looking his way, but her gaze wasn't tracking the real movement.
How careless.
The strike landed, carrying a certain viciousness.
A heartbeat later, Tanya slammed into Emiya, the impact driving them both to the mats—and right onto Dean, whose shaky attempt to rise ended in another graceless sprawl.
"Dead!" she crowed, a bright, childlike grin lighting her face as she perched on his chest.
Dean let out a pitiful whimper, trying crawl away from under them.
"Yes, yes," Emiya said with a low chuckle, amusement in his eyes. "Point to you, sister."
He hooked his hands under her arms and set her aside with ease.
He glanced toward where "Tanya" had been moments ago and caught the faint shimmer of her form dissolving into nothing, like heat-haze fading from the air.
"Decoys, right?" Emiya said, one brow raised. "I'd forgotten you had those. They haven't come up since power testing."
"I've never had the right circumstances to make them count," Tanya replied with a casual shrug, her beaming smile cooling into a measured, smug half-smirk. "You and I keep powers out of spars, and in close combat, decoys are next to pointless. In the skirmishes we've been through, I'd need a clean chance to disappear before deploying them. Neither Krieg nor Hookwolf's crew were inclined to let me."
"And how, exactly, did you manage to disappear?" Emiya asked, a faint frown tugging at his brow. "You don't have invisibility, and I was watching my surroundings. Even if you'd found an opening, I would have seen you moving."
"I actually have optical interference formula," Tanya said, matter-of-fact, "but it's a long way from true cloaking—especially against your enhanced vision. No, I asked Missy for help," his sister nodded toward the girl, who was approaching with Dean's helmet in hand, giving her the chance to explain their winning move.
In response, Missy pointed toward the warped section of the room. The floor sloped and angled at her command, revealing… a trench. "I sunk parts of the floor, and Tanya used it to move around the room. I had to shuffle the matter and thin the wall so it wouldn't bulge into the rest of the building."
She then walked over to Gallant, helping him up and returning his helmet.
Taking over smoothly, Tanya said, "From there, it was just a matter of using a mirror to watch over the trench and waiting for my chance."
"You carry a mirror?" Emiya asked, brows lifting in mild surprise. It was a practical tool for scouting corners, but rarely worth the trouble unless the operation was pre-planned; in a fight, it would shatter in seconds. He could project one easily enough, though he couldn't remember the last time he'd needed to creep through contested halls instead of leveling them from a distance.
In answer, Tanya pointed toward the edge of now unraveling trench, where a small circular object was pushed over the lip. "Military issue polycarbonate mirror for breaching actions. The PRT agents carry them for breaching actions, so I requisitioned one. Useful for checking blind corners." she replied.
Polycarbonate… shatter-resistant. Well, Emiya could project mirrors anytime, but perhaps that was why he'd never bothered to seek out shatter-resistant ones.
Although… he was fairly sure Tanya hadn't had one on her before today.
"Hmm, so you let the rest of the team lull me into a false sense of security, and when Sophia tried to repeat her pattern, you used her attack to mask your own," Emiya mused. "I should have still heard you approaching... Ah, you flew all the way from your cover."
"Correct," Tanya said with a small, satisfied nod. "I can't reliably sustain flight with calculators, unfortunately, but I only needed a few seconds of acceleration to close the gap."
"Well done, I suppose," Emiya said, giving a brief, conceding nod. His tone shifted, faintly skeptical. "But wasn't the point of this training to crush the Wards? To expose the holes in their teamwork?"
"We've won, though," Carlos said, stepping forward. His head lolled on his shoulders, bobbing with each movement, yet he showed no sign of discomfort—only mild defiance in his tone.
"Be honest, Carlos, do—" Tanya turned to the boy and paused, taking in the state he was in. "Do you need help?"
"I'm fine." Carlos caught his head in both hands, propping it upright long enough to meet our eyes—then it lolled forward again a second later. A faintly sheepish note entered his voice. "Alright… maybe if you could fix my neck. I'm not sure how long it'd take to heal on its own."
"Do you feel any pain in this condition?" Tanya asked, tilting her head slightly. "Your file was a bit vague on that point. I can provide painkillers if needed."
"Seriously, I'm fine. Never had a broken neck before, but I always figured the muscles would lock up to keep it in place. Instead, my field of vision's wider, and I don't need to focus on objects to see them—if that makes any sense. Something with dynamic vision."
"Right," Tanya said crisply. "Given how the spar went, it is clear the team doesn't coordinate well. The only ones left standing were you, Sophia, Missy, and me. Missy's not hard to take out. My decoy might've stalled Shirou for a moment, but it wouldn't have changed the outcome. Even with a full suite of enhancements, the skill gap's too wide for me to meaningfully contribute when restrictions on Blaster powers. And with Shirou having access to Armsmaster's halberd, Sophia would've been down in the first exchange—if we were willing to risk her health. That leaves just you, and pushing your endurance wasn't the point."
"I could have tired him out, though," Carlos argued.
"Give it a fucking rest, Aegis," Sophia spat. "He was toying with us. Danvers could've dropped all of you in five seconds."
"Yes," Tanya said evenly, "as I stated from the beginning, this spar simulates facing an opponent who won't hesitate to kill. That means the moment Shirou's blade touches anyone but you, they're effectively dead. Trying to exhaust him in that scenario means being willing to sacrifice everyone else. Even my move was a calculated sacrifice." Her gaze sharpened on Carlos. "Now picture someone else in Sophia's place… and me using a Mage Blade."
Carlos winced, shoulders sinking slightly. "Yeah… I guess it'd work on me too, but for anyone else…"
"Exactly," Tanya said with a curt nod. "And even you lasting longer than Shirou is questionable. With Sophia it was the halberd—against you, he could just cut off your limbs. Sure, you could technically stay in the fight, but you'd be next to useless."
Carlos slouched in defeat, his earlier defiance giving way to resignation.
"Chris, seriously—how long are you going to keep lying on the floor?" Missy asked, her tone mildly exasperated.
"Leave me alone," Chris groaned, throwing an accusatory glance at Carlos. "His fat ass killed me."
"Get up, Chris," Carlos said sourly.
"Nope," Chris replied without moving. "I'm getting my rest while I can."
Dean, finally upright and holding his helmet under one arm, joined the conversation. "So what, your winning was actually meaningless?"
"It proved my point," Tanya said evenly, her gaze sweeping the group, "and showed the value of coordination. The rest of you rushed Shirou like a mob, tripping over each other more than helping. Missy and I, on the other hand, worked out a strategy—and it worked. Sophia did contribute… technically. But she wasn't actually working with us. I just made use of her attack."
The girl in question was silently fuming.
"We were holding back a lot, though," Missy noted. "I'm not saying Shirou isn't strong, but Dean couldn't even use his power."
"I'm fine with that," Dean replied with a faint shrug... or shudder?
"It's not just about powers, Missy," Tanya argued. "It's about coordination—about adapting to battlefield conditions alongside your comrades. On an actual battlefield, I would've just sniped Shirou from across the city."
A dry snort escaped Emiya before he could stop himself.
Tanya's eyes snapped to him immediately.
"Another point of this exercise was to remind you that you're not invincible, brother," she said sharply, her tone cutting. "Every engagement so far has gone your way—but I won't have you thinking that three successful fights and a handful of sparring wins against…"
A sharp snap of Emiya's fingers cut through the air as realization hit him.
"That's what this is about!" he marveled. "This whole plan to mold the team into a unit—everyone working together, learning to fight side by side… and somehow, I'm the one left out of the equation."
Tanya's shoulders stiffened, her expression tightening for a fraction of a second.
"No, this wasn't a contradiction," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You got sick of losing, so you concocted this scheme—keep me distracted with a pile of opponents, then hit me when I'm open. If you can't win on the field, change the field."
A slow grin spread across his face at the sight of Tanya's cheeks coloring. Around them, every eye shifted toward her.
"My, my," he drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes, "what a devious little sister I have. I never knew you were this competitive."
Then again, had he ever actually seen her compete with anyone? Her report cards were always straight A's, but she never seemed to strain for them. Diligence, yes—but not the kind that came with grinding effort. Studying came naturally to Tanya, even more naturally than to him who only needed to brush on the material. Emiya doubted her classmates ever offered real competition.
Besides, American culture didn't put the same weight on exam rankings as Japan did. There weren't crowds jostling to see the top names on posted scoreboards—assuming they even bothered posting them at all.
Sure, some students still cared about their grades, but in America, being top of the class didn't earn you the same level of respect—or popularity.
So Tanya had neither worthy opponents nor much of a reason to compete in the first place.
Hobbies? If you could call studying economics and military history a hobby—hardly the usual fare for a child, and nothing to compete in. Emiya had tried nudging her toward dancing, singing, even sports, but she'd always waved him off—calmly explaining that club activities only became relevant for college applications once you hit high school.
Any hobby that required extra spending was dismissed without hesitation, no matter how often he assured her it wasn't a problem.
Boys? The moment he brought it up, she'd fix him with an icy stare and throw the question right back at him. No hints of a secret crush, no gaggle of rivals vying for the same boy's attention.
To be fair, Emiya had never observed such a dynamic in his own classroom, so perhaps American culture was simply different.
It had simply never crossed Emiya's mind that Tanya could be a sore loser. Pride wasn't something he'd ever clung to—so whatever this was, it was all Tanya.
"I assure you, brother," Tanya said, jaw tightening, "I would never compromise training for the sake of a personal grudge. That would be unprofessional." Her tone was clipped and brooked no argument. "You were left out because your skill level lets you slot into any combat team without issue—something you've shown time and again. While it's true the others could benefit from fighting alongside you, they also need to learn how to fight against someone. Currently, you are the most dangerous combatant and you require teamwork drills the least, so pitting you against the Wards is the most efficient and thus logical choice. Once they're competent, I'll break us into teams."
"And, of course," he added with a faint smirk, "it conveniently gave you a chance to hit me in the face."
"Coincidence," she stressed.
"Well," he drawled, "it's still just one win stacked against your many, many losses. But don't worry—it's like you said: we'll keep training until everyone is competent," Emiya channeled all his memories of Tohsaka Rin into his smug tone and patronizing smirk.
Competition is good, right? That's what Tanya always preaches.
Ah—judging by the color of her face and the grinding of her teeth, he'd hit the mark. Her competitive spirit was burning.
To the side, Dennis staggered, almost landing on his ass as the hold of his power broke. He turned to the rest of us.
"Jesus!" he blurted, jerking back at the sight of Carlos, whose head lolled unnervingly on his neck. Carlos didn't even try to straighten it, the visible side of his face wearing the same relaxed expression he might have had while lounging on a couch.
Tanya inhaled slowly, steadying herself. "Dennis, nice of you to join us. You caught everything, correct?"
"Yeah, nice and clear," he replied, his words tumbling out too fast. "Anyway—great training, Tanya. Very efficient. Much learned. See you next time."
Without waiting for a reply, Dennis power-walked toward the exit, shoulders tight as if trying to ward off pursuit.
Tanya looked Emiya in the eye, clearly expecting him to stop the boy.
He raised an eyebrow.
She didn't relent.
Well, I'd had my fun. Maybe I owed her that much.
Emiya pulled one of the larger swords from his Reality Marble and launched it at an angle. It plunged into the floor in front of Dennis, blocking his path.
Dennis tried to walk around it, only for an identical sword to slam into the floor in his way. The boy seemed determined not to take the hint and kept walking until Tanya finally lost her patience and moved to grab him.
"It was just the warm-up," she muttered.
A/N
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