Swordmaxxing — Interlude (Rin, Saber, Archer)

AN: I had to fully rewrite the first two scenes of Chapter 7 to comply with the changes in Chapter 6. I've already updated Chapter 7, but since I decided to write an Interlude, I'm posting it separately like this. You'll recognize the first scene here as the former Rin PoV "bonus scene."

The next update will be "What Does The Fox Say."

<[]>

​The hair dryer died down with a click, and the bathroom fell quiet except for the low hum of the lightbulb overhead. Rin made a mental note to have Archer fix it later and set the dryer back on the shelf. 

She turned to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. Dry enough. 

The towel came off in one swift motion, tossed over her shoulder towards the laundry basket. It landed on the rim and slid in crooked. 

Her gaze went back to the mirror. From her slim waist, down to her slender hips, and along the taut line of her stomach. 

A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she cocked a hip to one side. 

Looking good. 

Her eyes trailed upward to her chest and stayed there a beat too long. 

She pressed her lips flat. 

Well. She still had a few more years to catch up. 

She looked away with a huff and slid her feet into her white, fluffy slippers. Turning around, she grabbed her neatly folded pajamas from the corner basket and slipped them on. 

Her jaw popped as she covered a yawn. 

Buttoning up her shirt, she scooped her ribbons from the counter and stepped out. 

The bedroom air hit her like a cool hand against her neck. Goosebumps pricked along her forearms, and she frowned. 

What the heck, Archer? 

She'd told him to close this stupid window half an hour ago. 

Her lousy Servant was suspiciously quiet. 

She huffed and stomped across the room, pushing the window shut. Then she walked to the nightstand and dropped her ribbons in a corner. The plastic brush lay wedged between a half-read book and a glass of water she kept forgetting to drink. She sat on the edge of the bed and started threading the brush through her hair in slow strokes. 

What a day… 

The third "gas leak" incident this week. 

Her jaw tightened. The brush caught on a knot she'd missed, and she tugged through it with more force than necessary, wincing at the pull against her scalp. 

Feeding on innocent people like that… 

She had to deal with Caster before she turned that temple into a real fortress. The bounded field already made it impossible to sneak inside from anywhere but the front door, and that put Archer at a disadvantage. 

A vanguard would solve the problem. 

Her frown deepened. 

She leaned over, set the brush back on the nightstand, and plopped down on the bed, draping one arm across her forehead. 

A long breath leaked out of her as she stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. 

Just her and Archer. She didn't need anyone else to win this war. 

An image surfaced to mind, unbidden. A jaw, sharp and set firm. A pair of eyes like hot steel staring right through her, refusing to back down even when he had no right to— 

Stubborn idiot… 

Siding with the Einzbern just because she was his long-lost sister? What a fool. 

Another image bubbled to the surface. 

Her mouth went tight. 

A girl with bright blue eyes and a happy smile, her small fingers working a red ribbon into her hair with clumsy knots. She'd had to redo them every single time— 

Sakura… 

Something curdled deep in her stomach, and her throat clenched. 

A brother who wanted to help his sister when she'd abandoned her own. 

Rin closed her eyes and exhaled deep. 

How long had it been? Eleven years? 

They went to the same school. Passed each other in the hallway at times. Their gazes sometimes met, and Sakura would force a smile that never reached her eyes, yet all she did was nod back and walk past. 

Could she even call herself her sister anymore? 

Rin rolled to one side, the covers bunching under her cheek as she pulled her knees closer to her chest. 

Emiya didn't care about the Grail, but he'd throw himself into a war for a sister he'd never known. 

He was even close friends with Sakura. Probably knew her better than Rin did. Knew what made her laugh, what she liked to cook, whether she still got scared during thunderstorms like she used to— 

And what was she doing? 

"I want us all to be on the same side!" 

The words rattled around at the back of her skull, refusing to settle. She blew a quiet breath through her nose, her brow creasing. 

If only it was that easy. 

The Einzbern might ally with her brother, but that didn't extend to Rin. And why would she even ally with the Einzbern? Those dolls would never give up on the Grail and their precious Magic. And Saber had her own wish—she wouldn't have answered the call otherwise. 

Betrayal was inevitable. 

Rin pulled herself upright, resting her chin on her knees. 

Stupid Shirou… 

Why did he have to make everything so complicated— 

A soft click came from the door, and it swung open. 

Archer walked in carrying a steaming mug, his tall frame filling the doorway for a moment before he crossed the room in three unhurried strides. His eyes met hers as he stopped next to the bed, that perpetual almost-frown in place, and he extended the cup towards her without a quiet hum. 

"Something on your mind, Rin?" 

An earthy scent filled her nose, crisp and faintly sweet. Chamomile. She straightened herself and took the cup with a small nod. 

"Thanks." 

The first sip bit her tongue, and she fought to keep her face still. She blew over the surface and took another sip. 

Her eyes flicked up to Archer, his tall, broad-shouldered frame standing at the foot of her bed like a disapproving statue, then darted away. 

"I was just thinking about stuff." 

Her sour grape of a Servant had been oddly quiet since last night, and now he wanted to chat? The heck was his problem? 

She'd put her foot down if he came here to start something. 

"Clearly," Archer said, tone dry enough to mummify a desert. "Must've been quite 'the stuff' if you were making that kind of face." 

Her eyes narrowed. "If you came here to annoy me, you've picked the wrong time, Archer." 

He cocked his head, a smug smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Annoy you? When I went through the effort to make you a relaxing cup of tea? You wound me, Rin." 

Her gaze dropped back to the mug. She took a longer sip and stole another glance at her Servant. "It's getting late, Archer. Just say your piece and let me sleep." 

"I came here worried about you, and this is what I get?" Archer let out an exaggerated sigh. "Such a cold-hearted Master I have." 

She looked up, meeting that know-it-all, insufferable smirk. "That's all you came here for?" 

"You've been grouchy ever since you talked with that boy. It's obvious that something bothers you." 

Rin cradled the cup in both hands, the warmth seeping into her palms. "It's not that important." 

"I'd lend my ear anyway." 

She looked away, pushing a tired breath through her nose. She opened her mouth but sipped again at her tea instead of speaking. 

A beat passed. Then another. 

"I might've been a bit too harsh on him," she finally spoke. 

Looking back, she'd overreacted. A little. 

But she couldn't help it. That idiot rushed headfirst into the war without even talking to her. 

"You did the right thing. He's a naïve child who needs a wake-up call." 

Her gaze returned to Archer. He stood with his arms crossed and mouth pulled into a hard line. 

Every time Emiya came up, it was like pressing on a fresh bruise. 

Seriously. The heck was his problem? 

"You really don't like him, do you?" 

Archer scoffed. "He's dangerous, Rin. And he's your enemy in this war." 

"It sounds a bit more personal than that." 

"I know his type. Nothing good ever comes out of it." 

Huh… 

"More importantly," Archer said, the lines of his face pulling stiff. "I think we should make a move while we still can." 

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?" 

"We should leave Caster for now and deal with Saber and the boy before it's too late." 

Before it's too late? 

She quirked a brow. "Why do you even want him dead so much? Just because he has a Reality Marble?" 

Archer's jaw tightened. Something in those steely eyes made her think of Shirou for a reason she couldn't quite place. 

"Rin. You understand how dangerous he is." 

She let out a scoff. Who cared if the idiot awakened his Origin? 

"Emiya's only a danger to himself." 

What would he even do? Turn himself into a sword? 

Something passed across Archer's face. A flicker of displeasure that twitched over his lips. 

"You're playing with fire, Master." 

—"I want to end this war with as little bloodshed as I can."— 

Her fingers clenched tighter around the warm cup. 

"He's not even a proper magus." She took a slow sip of tea. Her gaze wandered to the window, then drifted across the room. "He's an idiot with an aggravating lack of common sense and too nice for his own good. We're not killing him, Archer." 

She hadn't saved him back then just to kill him now. 

She swirled the cup, the amber liquid spinning inside and splashing close to the rim while the silence stretched out like a heavy blanket. 

"Fine." Archer's voice came out clipped. "But don't say I didn't warn you." 

He didn't say anything else, and the room settled into a dense quiet. The chamomile tea had cooled to a pleasant warm. She took another sip, and when she looked up, the space next to her bed was empty. 

A sigh escaped her. 

Stubborn Servant…

<[]>

​Artoria stood at the edge of the hospital's light, arms folded and gaze fixed down the empty street. Her breath left her in thin white wisps and the cold slipped beneath the collar of her coat, settling at the nape of her neck, patient as a siege. 

She tapped a finger against her arm, frown deepening. 

Rider had escaped. Her false Master had scurried away like a rat before they had the chance to learn anything useful from him. And that vile creature had also left without a reckoning. 

Three enemies. Three chances, spent and gone. 

Her mouth pressed into a hard line as she glanced past the building's shoulder at the night sky. Clouds hung over the rooftops, dark grey pressing down on the city like the lid of a pot. 

Shirou had better give her a proper explanation. 

If she had to suffer a repeat of the last war… 

Her jaw clenched as the memories surfaced like a fresh dream. A man's back, turned to her. Orders passed along through gentler lips than his own. And at the end of it all, her own hand rising against the very thing she'd sought. 

She pushed those memories away and stared at the sleeping city. 

Was Shirou the same as Kiritsugu? Like father like son? 

Worse even, in some respects. Kiritsugu had been an ill-suited Master, but he'd never been a self-sacrificing fool, and he'd never pushed for poor tactical decisions. 

Pity had no place on the battlefield. Sparing the enemy did nothing but give them one more chance to strike you down. She had buried men who'd learned that lesson on her behalf. 

Hopefully, Shirou would understand. 

They wouldn't win the Grail if he kept moving forward like this. 

A thin, slow breath left through her nose, the cold barely marking it. She turned her attention outward, sweeping the dark the way a sentry walked a wall. By the end, she uncrossed her arms, some tension bleeding out of her frame. 

No Servants anywhere in reach. 

Perhaps the Masters of this war had sense enough to not start battles in the middle of so many sleeping people. 

Perhaps. She kept half her watch on the rooftops all the same. 

Her gaze snapped forward as a familiar figure came down the hospital stairs. Shirou made his way towards her, a smile on his face despite the tired slouch dragging at his shoulders. 

"Welcome back, Master." 

He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. "Sorry." He gave his cheeks a couple of light slaps and stopped at her side. "Thanks for waiting, Saber. Let's go home." 

He'd pushed himself quite far today. 

She answered with a short nod and got moving alongside her Master. The streetlamps handed them from one pool of light to the next and the quiet of the night stretched between them. 

She sent Shirou a glance from the corner of her eye. He kept watching the ground ahead of his feet, his eyes distant. 

Was he not going to say anything? 

"Saber." 

He broke the silence, and her eyes cut towards him again. He'd lifted his head, and a complicated look sat on his face as he met her gaze. 

"I owe you some answers." 

Better later than never. 

"I would appreciate that, yes," she spoke after a moment, voice firm. 

Shirou's eyes flickered to the road ahead, a grimace starting at the corner of his lips before he smothered it. 

Guilt? Or readying to spin some lies? 

"I'm sorry about earlier, Saber. I didn't mean to make you angry." 

He sounded genuine. 

She had been fooled by tone before. Kiritsugu could sound genuine too, when it cost him nothing. 

"Your decisions have been quite infuriating, but I'll save my judgement until I hear an explanation." 

"Of course." He nodded. "Where do you want me to start?" 

Where the ground was firmest. 

"From the beginning. Why did you choose to spare the enemy?" 

Shirou blew a breath into his hands and rubbed them together before looking at her. "Like I said, something felt off about them." 

Gut instinct? Armies had drowned crossing rivers on the strength of a commander's gut. One needed more than that when making a tactical decision. 

"Shinji can't use magecraft," Shirou continued. "His magic circuits are broken, so he can't summon or sustain a Servant. But even so, he was controlling Rider." 

She nodded along. "That book you destroyed." 

"Yeah," he said. "His family invented the command spells, so I thought it might have something to do with that. If they made them, they could've left a loophole, right?" 

It made sense. More sense than anything else this night had offered. 

"So that creature was pulling the strings." Zōken, was it? The name sat on her tongue like something spoiled. "You seemed to know about him, so tell me—" 

"No, Saber." Shirou gave a firm shake of his head. "I don't think it was him." 

Her gaze narrowed. "Then who?" 

Shirou's mouth tightened and his gaze dropped for half a breath. "My friend, Sakura. The girl you saw around the house. Zōken must've forced her to hand her Servant over to Shinji." 

She stilled, eyes going wide. 

The girl who bowed at the front door. Who set the table with small, careful hands and smiled at the floor more often than at people. 

They'd been living with the enemy, and he'd said nothing? 

That went beyond reckless. 

"You could've said something, Shirou. Do you understand how foolish this is?" 

"I just wanted to be sure I had it right." 

"That's not an excuse to harbor the enemy under my nose." 

The words came out cold. Colder than she'd meant, the flat, spare cold that Kiritsugu used to deal in. She did not take it back. 

Shirou's head came around, offense written plain across his face. "Saber. Maybe I'm a fool, or an idiot, or whatever you want to call me. But please don't treat Sakura like an enemy. I've returned her Servant and I'm keeping her away from that monster. She's going to be our ally." 

Artoria looked ahead and sighed. That might've been uncalled for. 

"How certain are you of that?" 

"Sakura would never hurt me. We can trust her." He gestured at himself, palm pressed flat against his chest. "You saw how Rider didn't kill me even though she had the chance." 

The moment replayed itself, unasked. The chain that had taken his shoulder could as easily have taken his throat. And what came after, more so. She'd had Shirou at her mercy for seconds too long. 

Artoria frowned. "I meant about her being the Master. Have you seen her command spells?" 

His brow furrowed, eyes going distant. They shot wide after a beat. "I saw something that looked like a bruise on her hand a few days ago, but I'd thought it was from Shinji hitting her again. She's been wearing a bandage ever since, so…" He glanced ahead, lips pursed. "In hindsight, it was command spells." 

How careless. 

"And you didn't think to inform me?" 

"I was going to. I wanted to confront Sakura about it first." 

She stared at him. Unbelievable. 

What was going through this boy's head? 

"A Master of unknown allegiance and their Servant? How exactly would you have confronted them?" 

"You would've been there too. And Sakura is not an enemy." He held her gaze, his eyes like steel fresh from the quench. "She'll never be an enemy." 

His conviction, though… 

Men had marched to their deaths on less. How could he have so much faith in that girl? 

Something sour coiled low in her stomach. 

"That way of thinking is naive, Shirou." 

His shoulders lowered with a sigh. "I can't help it. It's who I am. I'd do the same for you, Saber." 

Then why… 

Her jaw tightened. 

"I swore an oath as your Servant. I cannot be your Sword if you do not trust me with your plans." 

Shirou stopped mid-stride, eyes wide, and she'd gone another step before she turned to face him beneath a streetlamp. 

"Wha—that's not—" He shook his head, his tongue tangling in his words. "I trust you, Saber! I didn't even have a proper plan. I just acted how I thought was right." 

The words hung between them like smoke, giving her pause. She stared at his contrite expression and searched it for the second face beneath the first. 

There was nothing. Just a boy under a streetlamp, bare-faced and open, embarrassed at his own misstep. 

Ah… 

Her Master wasn't a shrewd and selfish man like Kiritsugu. He was merely a fool. A heroic fool with a good heart. 

"I see." She'd been too quick to judge. "I must apologize, Shirou." She clasped her hands at her waist, fingers lacing together. "I've misjudged you. You are reckless and impulsive but also kind." 

Perhaps too much. 

"No—it's not your fault." His head dipped forward into a bow. "I'm just acting selfish and stupid." 

She watched the crown of his bowed head for a moment. The streetlamp buzzed overhead, and her breath left her in a long exhale that lowered her shoulders with it. 

"Raise your head, Shirou. I may not agree with it, but I understand why you chose to spare Rider." 

He lifted his head. His mouth opened and hung like that for a beat as he shifted his weight shifted from one foot to the other like a soldier faced with a report he'd rather not deliver. 

"Is something the matter?" 

"Well, that's one part of the reason…" He looked away and scratched at his cheek. "I also felt bad for her." 

She stared at Shirou like he'd grown a second head. 

"We are Servants." The words came out close to a hiss. "It's our purpose to fight and slay each other for the Grail." 

"I know…" His hands clenched against his jacket. "I know but… I just didn't want her to die." 

"This kind of pity has no place on the battlefield." 

His expression tightened. 

"I know who she is." His lips pulled into a complicated line. "Her weapon… I saw her history. She deserved better. She deserves another chance." 

Another chance? 

They were all fighting for another chance. 

Artoria frowned. "She's still a Servant, Shirou." 

Would he do the same for every tragic story he stumbled across? This war would eat him whole. 

His gaze snapped towards her, a stubborn glint set into it like a keystone. "And I still want to save her." 

Her frown deepened. "Six Servants must die to manifest the Grail." 

All he'd done was delay the inevitable. A stay of execution was not a pardon. 

"I know, but we talked about it. Maybe Caster can figure something. If she can't… I'll cross that bridge then." 

The look on his face said he'd rather the bridge stayed forever in the distance. 

Hopefully, this wouldn't become a problem. 

She looked Shirou in the eye. "I will not spare any other Servant. I hope you will keep that in mind going forward." 

His face worked as though he'd bitten into something sour. He swallowed and let out a sigh. "I understand. I won't ask you again." 

Good. 

She'd deal with Rider too, when the time came. The verdict settled at the back of her mind with a familiar weight, a sheathed sword resting against her hip. 

Her eyes stayed on his face for another beat, lips drawing a thin line. "I hope you've learned something from this, Shirou." 

"Yeah," he said, gaze drifting ahead. "I'm sorry, Saber. I'll do better from now on." 

She'd hold him to that promise. 

They fell in step again, side by side. The houses thinned, the streetlamps grew farther between, and the river came into view. 

"You should learn how to talk through our bond." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "It would've made things easier during the fight." 

Poor communication was the enemy. It could kill a soldier just as good as any blade. 

Shirou grimaced at the reminder. "You're right. I'll figure something tomorrow." 

Good. 

They lapsed into silence as they kept walking, Shirou lost somewhere behind his own eyes. The smell of wet stone grew thicker and then the same bridge from earlier rose out of the dark ahead, strung with countless tiny lights. 

Shirou stopped in front of a large, colorful box set aglow at the roadside. A vending machine. One of those mechanical merchants which sold wares with no human hand involved. He fed coins into the slot, and the thing swallowed them with a soft chime. 

A rattling sound inside the contraption broke the silence, and Shirou bent down, reaching with both hands inside its bowels. Then he straightened and turned towards her with a smile, holding a smooth, cylindrical object in each hand. 

Canned drinks. 

Food and drink, sealed against frost and rain and the bottom of a baggage cart. Grain wagons mired to the axle in mud. Salted meat gone green in the summer damp. Quartermasters aged ten years in two, counting barrels of water that never lasted the week. It would've made a world of difference on the battlefield. Logistics had always been the bane of every campaign, and here she had the answer humming by the roadside, sold for a handful of coins to anyone who passed. 

What her armies could have done with such a thing. 

"Here, Saber." 

Shirou pushed one of the cans towards her. 

"What is this?" 

"A popular winter drink." 

Winter drink? 

"Thank you." 

She accepted the gift, fingers curling around the colorful can—soda? No. The pleasant warmth seeping from the metal said otherwise. 

She studied it from up close. The words "Morinaga milk cocoa" stretched bold across the front in bright yellow. 

Hot chocolate? 

What a quaint thing. 

Shirou opened his own beverage and took a sip, steam ghosting past his face. She felt a faint tug at the corner of her lips and looked down at the can cradled in her palm. 

Her Master might be a poor magus even compared to the likes of Kiritsugu. He might be foolish, reckless, and naive. 

But he was a better man.

<[]>

Archer frowned, his gaze fixed on the familiar house in the far distance, bow hanging useless in his left hand. The other clenched around empty air one last time before he tore his gaze away with a click of the tongue. 

That foolish Rin… if only she hadn't bound him like this with her command spell… 

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. He spun, an arrow shaping between his fingers. He nocked and drew in one motion as his eyes found the target. A large bug hovering by a distant tree, two streets down. Fat-bodied, big as a fist, and beyond ugly. 

He loosed. The string snapped, the night swallowed the arrow, and the bug burst apart like an overripe fruit, bloody chunks raining down over some poor shmuck's garden. 

Archer's gaze narrowed.  

Insect familiars? 

He lowered the bow, a harsh breath slipping out in the dead of the night. 

Insect magecraft… was it? 

The memory was hazy like a piece of frosted glass. Rin must've brought it up at some point, far too long ago. Something related to… 

…Sakura? 

He shook his head, flicking the silly thought off like ash. It couldn't be Sakura. She would've been the Master if she knew magecraft. 

He swept his gaze along the street, the rooftops, and the black line of trees further up the hill. Nothing unusual caught his eye. The night went back to pretending to be ordinary, and he dismissed his bow.  

Shinji was useless, despite Rider. 

Did the Matō have another magus? 

He went digging through the jumble he called memories, but nothing stood out. 

His gaze flickered in the opposite direction and settled on another house. The mansion was too large for two children to live there by themselves. Who else stayed with them? And why show up now, sniffing around Rin's doorstep? 

Below him, through the floors, Rin's presence dimmed towards sleep. He rolled his shoulders and settled back into his watch. 

Just what was going on here?