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To Love a Sword Chapter 35: Forgotten Past
🕑 Added 2025-04-29 00:52:50 +0000 UTCBeta read by Paragon of Awesomeness and FabledLife
I am speed (for a few days till I run out of fuel).
Next update is Fake Familiar Reborn followed by Nanoha.
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--Sainan-
Lately, Sainan had been caught in a lull—so quiet that Ryouko almost forgot what peace felt like. The clinic was stuffy, the sharp tang of antiseptic hanging in the air, mingled with the faint buzz of medical equipment. The alien doctor, her auburn hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, slumped against her desk. Her eyes were tired from lack of sleep, but still sparked with remnants of yesterday’s little adventure.
“…Then all the students gathered around the fire. Then came the ceremony of prizes being given out, and we had quite the show with Lala getting a bit jealous.” She spoke to her assistant, Shizu. The ghost inhabiting the artificial body Ryouko made to look just like her, wearing a nurse's outfit. Adorable but also practical, she designed it herself.
“Hehe, it sounds amazing!”
“You really ought to have joined us, Oshizu,” Ryouko said, her words dancing with the joy of recollection. “The beach alone was a sight to behold; it was very clean, and it reminded me of the Ryukyu Islands beaches. With Sephie around, the experience was even more amazing! Shame she had to go back, it's a nice experience to hang out with a woman around my own age every so often.”
"I appreciate the offer, Doctor," Shizu said softly, tucking a stray lock of blue hair behind her ear, "but I really needed to take care of the clinic. Who else would look after the patients while you're on vacation? Without you around, some people were worried that they would have needed to go to the regular hospitals."
The buxom brunette leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking under her, and studied her assistant closely. It was true—the clinic had only grown more popular with time. With more and more aliens secretly making their way to Earth, fearful of exposure, Ryouko’s clinic had become the only safe haven in the area for species too afraid to risk a human hospital and the inevitable consequences. Zastin and his task force worked tirelessly to keep the secret, but one mistake could undo everything for a few unlucky individuals.
They have been especially strict lately after Sephie’s visit…
"A day or two of absence won't cause that much trouble, and everyone needs some form of leisure time," she said kindly, a smile tugging at her lips. "You've been working here for a long time now. I see how hard you work every day, you deserve a break just like anyone else. Besides, if there's an emergency, the patients can always call me. I'd be back in an instant."
It wasn’t the first time she had taken leave, nor would it be the last. Unless a true emergency occurred — something catastrophic like a patient in need of immediate surgery — most cases could wait. In fact, just this past year, the only genuinely urgent medical situation had been Golden Darkness’ case of severe malnutrition, and even then, it had stemmed more from reckless eating habits than any true peril. The girl had nearly starved herself from the inside out with a diet consisting almost entirely of potato chips and any other junk food she’d been able to get her hands on.
Shizu, of course, technically didn’t even have a body to maintain anymore. A ghost could drift through centuries without needing a single doctor’s visit. But her mind and her soul, those were still very much alive and working. Relentless work would wear even the dead down, with enough stress.
Besides, a day at the beach with some of the students seemed like the perfect way to relax and socialize. Yet, the longer Ryouko mulled over Shizu’s flimsy excuse, the more suspicious she became.
"Oshizu," she said, this time her voice sharpened to a more commanding tone. The reaction was instantaneous. The stiff spine, the guilty, strained smile plastered on her face as she looked away, resembled nothing so much as a Labrador caught stealing biscuits from the kitchen cupboard. "Is there something you’re not telling me?" she pressed, arching an eyebrow.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Shizu stammered, her voice an octave too high.
‘Ah. So there it was.’
Her suspicions confirmed, Ryouko knew she couldn’t simply ignore it—not as the girl’s mentor. Folding her arms, she leaned forward slightly.
"It’s because of him, isn’t it?"
The words were spoken lightly, almost teasingly, a mere test to observe the girl’s reaction.
Shizu, despite her ethereal existence stretching across centuries, had always possessed a heart as innocent as a young maiden’s. Her reaction gave everything away instantly—the way she fidgeted, wringing her fingers together, her eyes darting everywhere but at Ryouko’s.
Ryouko sighed quietly, a fond, exasperated sound. "How long has it been? At least a year? Close to two, actually, since that incident. You've seen him up close, you've witnessed his actions, his choices, and how he handled matters concerning the safety of this world and its people. You’ve seen his generosity toward those who deserve it. You’ve seen him put his life at risk to save others, that should help offset some of the fear by now, right?"
She leaned back in her chair once more, her expression softening.
"Surely by now, it’s obvious. He is not a bad person out to hunt down ghosts and spirits. Nor is he someone you need to fear, no matter what others may have told you otherwise."
"It's not that I hate him, Mikado-sensei," Shizu murmured, her voice so soft it nearly blended with the gentle hum of the clinic’s machinery. She hugged the clipboard tighter against her chest, her guilty eyes darting away. "I know he’s not a bad person and all… but I just get scared whenever I even think he’s around."
"Irrational fear, I suppose," the doctor noted, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her lips as she digested the confession. "But do you plan on staying afraid of him forever? It’s a bit unfair to him, don’t you think? Imagine how Emiya must feel, sensing that someone is this frightened of him and constantly avoiding him. He’s not a dog with your case of cynophobia can help to explain your reaction. He visits regularly. It’s only natural he’s begun to notice something is amiss."
"I tried to get over it!" the ghost exclaimed, visibly crumbling under the weight of her guilt. Her blue hair seemed to shimmer under the fluorescent lights. "But every time I get near him, it feels like I'm back there, back in that place, about to die all over again. I can't explain it… It’s like I can’t breathe, like something terrible is about to happen, and I can’t stop it. And he feels like the cause of it."
Ryouko folded her arms, frowning slightly. "But you are a ghost, Oshizu. You don’t even need to breathe. And as for Emiya, he can use magic, yes, but from what I can tell, it’s not the type that resembles an exorcism. Though honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he were to possess knowledge on how to perform that, but even then, he has no reason to perform such a thing on you."
Ever since the incident, the night Shizu had accidentally attempted to possess him, Ryouko’s curiosity had only grown. Her assistant had recounted in trembling whispers what she had seen, though Emiya himself had offered little. When she once tried to broach the subject, it had been clear that he knew exactly what Shizu had glimpsed, but refrained from explaining any further.
She hadn't pressed him. It wasn't her place to demand answers, not when it involved personal, possibly sensitive information.
Still, to terrify someone like Shizu, so innocent, so tender-hearted, something about that truth gnawed at her curiosity like a persistent moth to a flame.
"Tell me," she said finally, her voice steady, "if you had a chance to get rid of that fear… would you take it?"
The question hung between them, heavy and expectant. The girl squeezed the clipboard closer, her fingers clenching the edges until her knuckles turned translucent. After a long moment, she nodded, so faintly it was almost imperceptible.
"Then I suggest exposure therapy," Ryouko said gently. "Prolonged exposure, to be precise. You need to be around him, converse with him, and spend time near him, until that fear naturally fades away. When I was kidnapped not that long ago, you managed to face your fears without my help, and communicated with him, didn't you? I believe you can do it again."
Shizu said nothing at first, her gaze distant, lost somewhere past the walls of the small clinic. She simply stood there, hugging the clipboard like a shield. Then, slowly, she nodded again.
"If you think it will work… I’ll take your word for it. I do feel bad about it. I don't want him to feel bad, either. And… I haven’t even thanked him yet. For saving you."
A beautiful smile bloomed on Ryouko’s face, bright and warm. She felt a rush of pride for her little assistant, how brave she was, even in her hesitation. Truthfully, she doubted Emiya would feel hurt if a ghost tiptoed around him out of fear. He might not even remember the incident. But still, she believed that having someone like Shizu, a beacon of kindness and innocent goodwill, around him could only be a good thing.
Because every time the brunette spoke to him, it was like speaking to an old soul, someone who had walked the world for decades longer than his actual age suggested. It wasn’t natural for a young man to be so jaded, so eerily unaffected by the sight of blood, aliens who tried to kidnap Lala, assassins, and even being able to kill the prince who hired Golden Darkness without so much as a hint of hesitation. She’d heard the story from Zastin—who apparently hadn’t heard the human idiom that loose lips sink ships—when the royal guard captain came to check up for any injuries, how Lacospo died in a matter of seconds, or the expression he made when Zastin was ordered to attack him. It wasn’t normal for someone his age to become like that, especially for his age, even with the ability to use magic.
The more she thought about it, the more her curiosity turned to worry that weighed heavily on her chest.
But at the end of the day, she was not just a school nurse; she also cared about him deeply on a personal level. And if bringing another little light into his life could help, even if just a little, she would do whatever it took.
Ring!
The sharp sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts, snapping both women back to the present.
"Oh my, I got so caught up in our little chat I nearly forgot we're still open for business," Ryouko said with a warm chuckle, one that Shizu mirrored with a sheepish smile. The ghost girl hurried out of the office, ready to greet the next patient.
The front door opened again with a gentle chime, and Shizu bowed slightly to whoever arrived at the waiting room. "Please come in. The doctor is ready to see you. You may tell her about any issues you've been experiencing."
Ryouko glanced up and smiled the moment she caught sight of their visitor, a familiar figure indeed, and a recurring patient who always brought a touch of lively chaos with her.
"I'm happy to see you’re doing well, Run," she said, her smile brightening. "It’s so rare to see you alone. How’s your brother?"
Not surprised to see the one that came over for a check-up today happened to be the local Memorzean royal, last time she saw them was when Ren was in control. It was a rarity to see Run be in control, probably today was her day. Despite dealing with the case for years by now, she was still amazed by the curious ability developed by the girl’s species during the long hardships of their resource-scarce planet… switching genders and even psyches with but a sneeze. Truly a remarkable phenomenon.
"Ryouko-sensei! It's great to see you again," Run beamed. "My brother’s resting right now. He spends every afternoon training at home, running marathons until he collapses. Now I’m stuck making sure he actually takes care of himself."
“Ren must be lucky to have such a caring sister," she said warmly.
"He's lucky I became friends with Lala in the first place!" Run huffed, folding her arms dramatically. "And lucky I’m here cleaning up after all his shenanigans. Do you know how many people in town come running up to me, complaining about how Ren charges through the streets shouting he’ll become a 'man among men'? It's mortifying!"
Ryouko chuckled, all too easily able to picture the scene vividly—Run standing red-faced while townsfolk gossiped and laughed behind their hands.
"It’s admirable, though," she said kindly as she began setting up a few diagnostic devices, the machines whirring softly to life around the examination room. "He’s a young, hot-blooded man, trying to better himself."
"Better himself?!" Run nearly exploded, throwing her arms in the air. "More like making a complete fool of himself! It's ridiculous! He’s just desperate to catch Lala’s attention. And to do that, he’s trying to become like Emiya! Have you seen his room? It's covered — covered, I tell you—with shirtless photos of Emiya in all these different poses! He analyzes them, trying to copy his build and his workout routine. It's downright creepy and gives off all kinds of obsessed stalker vibes! I don't want future guests to think it’s my room! Or that I’m living with a sibling who should have a restraining order!"
A… strange practice she had to admit. Had his resolve to become a man gone to such an extreme that he started to idolize the redhead? Definitely something that could be used to tease her favorite chef. The woman's lips twitched, trying not to laugh. Admittedly, perhaps that was a bit excessive, even by Ren’s standards. "Well, I’m sure he’ll grow out of it eventually. Think of it as a phase. We all have them."
"Maybe," the green-haired princess grumbled. "But because of all his crazy antics, I haven’t even gotten a proper chance to talk with Emiya lately. We only really see each other at school, and even then, it’s just quick greetings. Our last date was a disaster, and after that, there’s been so much happening around him I couldn’t even get close."
Poor girl. Ryouko could sympathize. For someone who longed for a peaceful, uneventful life, Emiya somehow consistently attracted the most vibrant whirlwind of chaos imaginable: a hyperactive princess who left a trail of bizarre inventions, equally energetic sisters, a top-class galactic assassin trailing after him like an overeager puppy claiming to be his student, and not to forget his own brother whose accidental misadventures around girls had become something of a local legend. And now there was even a plant-based girl who’d practically been adopted as his daughter.
Ryouko smiled softly at the memory of the boy she had first met, more guarded, a little lost, and the young man he had become. Though the chaos around him had multiplied, she could see it clearly: he hadn't let it change who he was. Beneath it all, she knew he found a stubborn, secret joy in it.
"Heh~, this might work.”
"Hm?"
Both girls turned toward Ryouko with puzzled expressions when she suddenly snapped her fingers, reacting as though she'd just made a world-shattering discovery.
"Well, for now, I can confidently say there’s nothing wrong with your body, Run," Ryouko declared, tapping her clipboard lightly against her palm. "Other than needing a bit of proper rest, you’re perfectly fine. However…" Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "I may have a proposition, one that could benefit not only you but also Shizu over here."
"Me?" Shizu blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"Yes, Run," Ryouko said with a nod. "Were you aware that my assistant here struggles to be around Emiya? She’s developed a form of…irrational fear regarding him."
"What?!" Run gawked at the ghost girl, utterly bewildered. "Why would you be scared of him? Sure, Emiya looks a bit gruff sometimes, and his magic is intense, but he’s not scary at all!" She stopped to think for a minute.
“I mean… unless you’re a bad person. But you’re not a bad person, are you, Shizu?”
The ghost girl flinched at the question. "Wha— No! No, I’m not! It’s… hard to explain," Shizu mumbled at the end, shrinking slightly.
"In any case," the doctor continued briskly, "since she’ll soon be attending school as well, I want you to help her get more familiar with him. Introduce her properly. Talk to him together. It might help her overcome this unfortunate fear. And you," Ryouko added slyly to Run, "will also get to spend a little more time with him. It may not be the method you’d have preferred, but trust me—being normal and truthful is the most effective way to get anywhere with him."
Ryouko could see the cogs turning in Run’s mind, her mouth pursed thoughtfully. Her smile widened knowingly, already predicting what the girl’s answer would be.
"Just chat for a bit," she encouraged gently. "Some alone time in the waiting room. Nothing complicated."
Before she could blink, Run had nodded enthusiastically and seized Shizu by the wrist, dragging the flustered assistant out of the room.
Left alone with no new patients arriving just yet, the school nurse decided to indulge herself with a cup of coffee. She wandered into the small kitchen, humming lightly as she prepared it. But after a sip, she wrinkled her nose—the taste was… passable, but missing something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
"Maybe I should invite him over again," she mused aloud, poking through the fridge to check her supplies. "This time, I’ll make sure to prepare dinner properly."
Was it selfish to concoct a pretense, a dear friend's concern about Emiya’s health, as an excuse to invite him? Perhaps. But she was confident she could more than make up for it if he agreed. Besides, it was just one dinner. She doubted he would refuse, especially considering he still owed her a small favor from years ago.
Ring!
The shrill sound of her phone snapped her from her plotting. Frowning, she wiped her hands and picked up the device, glancing at the caller ID—and her eyes widened in shock.
"Now there’s a name I haven’t seen in years…" she murmured, curiosity peaking at this turn of events.
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(A few hours later)
"Eh, you really think that plan will work?"
After finishing up their work and going on a small lunch break, Shizu and Run strolled side by side down a quiet path, trying to figure out their next move.
“You don't believe me?”
"I don't know," Shizu muttered after hearing Run's plan on how to capture Emiya's attention, kicking at a loose stone. "Where would we even find people willing to pretend to be bad guys trying to assault me? And couldn’t someone get hurt? I don’t think that’s such a good idea…"
"It’s a brilliant idea!" The green-haired girl beamed, spinning lightly on her heel. "I was about to try it on myself, actually, but I couldn’t find the right opportunity, not after he left for that island trip with Saki and her cronies. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can think of something else."
"That… would help," she admitted quietly.
Truth be told, she still wasn’t certain how she felt about getting close to Emiya at all. Just being near him made her skin crawl—an invisible, searing ache that she couldn't quite shake, rooted in the moment she had nearly possessed him. That barren landscape flashed across her mind again: a wasteland unlike anything she'd ever seen, a world where thousands—no, an almost infinite number—of swords jutted out of the cracked earth like tombstones. Even as a spirit, the suffocating pressure there had threatened to crush her, an overwhelming sense of dread whispering that the slightest movement might be her end.
It was almost impossible to describe. Even Ryouko, as understanding as she was, could never fully grasp what Shizu had witnessed. Nor did she want the good doctor to ever be exposed to such a terrible thing.
"Why don’t you just introduce me to him at school in a more normal setting?" Shizu suggested hopefully. "Maybe I can… You know, use you as a shiel— I mean, slowly get to know him like that. I read in one of those Seventeen magazines that girls who leave letters in a boy's shoebox are the surefire way to make them find you!"
"Nope, no way! You're not allowed to do that. Those are just for… um… special reasons. Also, good luck approaching him normally," Run snorted. "He’s always swarmed by girls, especially at school. I bet Lala will swoop in and steal all his attention again! She always gets the good stuff. But now…" Run’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. "Rather than working solo, I finally have a teammate who can help me beat her! I'm not blind to the progress Saki has made! It's all because of those two minions she has, not to mention Ren will just ruin things for me! That’s exactly why my idea is perfect!"
Even though all of this sounded very questionable, Shizu chuckled awkwardly, feeling like the older girl had perhaps misunderstood the situation entirely and was just barreling forward with her own plan. But she didn’t mind too much, it sounded fun. After several visits to the clinic, she had learned enough about Run to know that, beneath the chaos, she was a good person.
"I’m not even sure how I can help you," Shizu said quietly. "I'm not good at anything… I’m more likely to be a burden than anything else."
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Run gently smacked her lightly on the back.
"Ow—!"
"How can you say that when we haven’t even tried yet?" Run scolded, hands planted firmly on her hips. "If you keep being so hesitant, how do you plan on ever fulfilling Mikado-sensei’s wish? How do you expect to get over your fear?"
She was right. The more Shizu thought about it, the more sense Run’s words made. Drawing a deep breath, she straightened up, newfound resolve flickering in her chest.
"You’re right!" She huffed, puffing up her chest. "Even if I’m scared, even if I’m not sure what I can do, I can still try other things! I’m sure we can figure something out. Don’t worry. I'll do my best and get over my—"
"—What are you two talking about?"
"Hyah!"
The startled yelps escaped both girls at once. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t even noticed someone approaching so close that the voice practically whispered against their ears.
They whirled around. A red-haired girl with violet eyes stood behind them casually with her arms crossed behind her back, as well as wearing an amused yet curious look on her face.
"W-Who are you?" Shizu asked cautiously, heart hammering. That had almost startled her enough to accidentally make her unpossess the artificial body she was given.
"Me?" The girl laughed lightly. "I’m just passing through town. Are you two students from Sainan High, by any chance?”
"Yes?" Run answered hesitantly, her fingers curling slightly at her sides, casting a wary glance at the newcomer.
"That’s great!" the red-haired girl chirped, flashing a dazzling smile. "I was just passing through and couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Are you two, by any chance, talking about Emiya?"
This person just kept getting more suspicious. "You know him?"
Both Shizu and Run blurted the question in near-perfect unison, equally surprised. The former, blinking rapidly, tried to place this stranger in her mind, rummaging through the memories of people who usually hovered around Emiya. Now that she looked closer—if she squinted and ignored the eye color—this girl almost resembled what Emiya had looked like back when Lala’s invention had temporarily turned him into a girl. The resemblance was uncanny, except this stranger had much longer hair, braided neatly all the way down her back.
"I know of him—that's even better!" the girl continued, practically vibrating with energy. "I want to join the conversation! Let's talk and exchange everything you know about him, about the different kinds of abilities he possesses, and possible weaknesses!"
“…”
This person kept getting even more suspicious, and the desire to get as far away from this person grew by the second. Yet she obviously did not seem to be one of those aliens that came to Earth to steal the Devilukean princess… maybe she was overthinking it? Before either Shizu or Run could utter a word, they exchanged a silent, uncertain look. Was this safe? Was it even normal?
They didn’t get a chance to decide.
The newcomer seized both their hands with surprising strength and began pulling them along at a brisk pace, as if they had been best friends for years.
"There’s an ice cream shop nearby! You can buy me a few scoops, and in return, I’ll share everything I know! I even spoke with him recently!" she added brightly, her grip vice-like and unrelenting. “Oh, I forgot, my name is Mea… what were both of your names again?”
Wait, when had she ever agreed to buy anyone ice cream?! A bolt of panic shot through the spirit's chest as she remembered she didn’t even have any money on her! They hadn’t even introduced themselves to this person to begin with!
"Do you know this girl?" Run hissed into her ear as they stumbled along the pavement.
Shizu shook her head vigorously.
Neither of them had any clue who this girl was.
{Break}
-Yuuki Residence-
Several days had drifted by since Emiya’s return from the island. After his rather chaotic meeting with Kyoko—the Flamian girl who had inadvertently dragged him into one of her shows—things, by some miracle, had mostly gone back to normal.
Well, as normal as things could be in his life these days.
It was only now, as he wandered through the corridors of the house, that he realized just how much time had slipped by since Lala first crashed into his life, bringing with her a whirlwind of ever-evolving absurdity. It was strange… he hadn't even noticed it happening.
Lost in thought, he decided to head into the kitchen to prepare lunch before anyone else got the idea first. But what he found there stopped him dead in his tracks.
Yami stood at the counter, wearing one of his aprons— which looked comically oversized on her lithe frame—and held two chef knives in a reverse grip as if preparing for battle or about to assassinate a target with them. The edges gleamed wickedly under the kitchen lights, catching the beams and throwing eerie reflections across the walls. Combined with Yami’s cold, unreadable stare, the scene gave off the chilling aura of a villain from a low-budget horror film.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice dry as sandpaper, more concerned about the imminent destruction of his kitchen than the girl herself.
"Training," Yami replied flatly, meeting his gaze with unwavering calm.
There was no elaboration, no sheepishness, just that steady, unsettling eye contact that stretched out for what felt like an age.
"Training to become a serial killer in a B-rated horror movie?" Emiya quipped weakly, trying and failing to shake off the growing sense of destruction that would inevitably hit his kitchen. He just cleaned up this place yesterday and used some of the money Ringo sent to buy a brand new cutting board made out of maple wood.
"No," she replied matter-of-factly. "Training on how to use a sword."
He blinked.
First of all, those weren’t swords. Secondly, brandishing two kitchen knives while a bundle of innocent vegetables sat trembling on the counter didn’t exactly scream 'swordsmanship practice' to him.
"Give her a chance," a voice called out cheerily next to Yami, Mikan filling up a large pot with water and looking completely unfazed by the situation. "Come on, it’s finally good to have someone else helping me out in the kitchen, that is not you or Rito! I finally have another girl who’s around my age helping me out."
“I'm older…” Yami commented with a deadpan face but got immediately ignored by those in the room.
Emiya groaned internally.
"Just ask Lala to use one of her crazy inventions to turn Rito into a girl," he muttered. "Then you can have all the help you want.”
"Don't drag me into this!" His little brother shouted from the living room, his voice rising above the usual hum of the house. "I don't want to be turned into a girl anytime soon!"
Immediately, he regretted making that small joke upon seeing the wicked grin spread across Mikan’s face as she shot back, "We could test if his… clumsy nature works on women upon changing genders—or if he starts targeting others." She chuckled, hardly serious, but her comment struck with an uncanny precision that sent a shiver down his spine.
"What if it starts working on boys instead?" she mused, her voice laced with mischief, but also genuine curiosity. "At that point, you're the only possible target in this house."
Speechless, he stood frozen for a moment, the thought terrifying him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He refused to picture it, absolutely refused to let the scene play out in his mind. "Point taken," he muttered, shaking his head as though to rid himself of the dreadful thought.
"Waaahhhhhhgggg!" Came the frantic cry, followed by the sound of someone darting across the room. "Why are you pointing a gun at me, Lala!?"
"I just want to see if Mikan's theory holds weight," Lala explained cheerfully, sounding like she brandished another one of her bizarre contraptions in her hands. "This is my new and improved invention! It can turn you into a woman and change you back without any side effects. Trust me, I’ve tested it."
"Tested on whom?!" Rito exclaimed, horrified. "Don't point that thing at me!"
Behind him, he could hear the clattering of footsteps, the desperate sound of an alien princess pleading for him to stay still long enough for her to get an accurate shot. Early in the morning, before his first cup of coffee, he was already feeling a headache coming on. If this had happened at any point in the past, he would have been utterly shocked—perhaps even terrified—at Lala creating something like this. But by now, he had grown used to her theatrics, so much so that the idea of being accidentally shot didn’t seem all that far-fetched.
For now, though, if the gun was the real deal and not just another of Lala's elaborate pranks to tease Rito, he'd just stay put in the kitchen, praying his luck didn’t run out.
"Back to the topic at hand," he sighed, rubbing his temples as he spoke to Mikan again. "Why is Yami even here in the first place? I was about to make spaghetti and meatballs." It wasn’t exactly his favorite dish, but Rito had been craving it after watching a food show on TV the night before that featured it.
Mikan shrugged nonchalantly. "I saw Yami hanging out at the park, looking bored out of her mind, so I thought she might want something to do. Told her she could join us." She gestured to the blonde assassin, who stood by the counter, her hands still clasped tightly around two gleaming chef knives.
"I was meditating," Yami said flatly, her expression unreadable, still holding the knives with a surgeon's precision.
"Right," he replied, consciously not rolling his eyes. "Meditating." His voice was thick with sarcasm. "So, how did that lead to you holding two knives and wandering into the kitchen, hoping to learn how to use swords? You’re already proficient in all manner of blades, last I checked."
Her gaze didn’t shift, but her response was as direct as ever. "All the weapons I've used so far are part of my body. I’ve never used a blade that wasn't connected to me. Mikan mentioned that you spend hours here, chopping vegetables, sometimes half a day, and that you spend another hour sharpening all the knives in the cupboard. I thought that was why you were so good with them."
He blinked, taken aback. There was so much wrong with that statement, he wasn’t sure where to start. The reason he spent hours cutting vegetables had nothing to do with any desire for swordsmanship. It was therapeutic and, as it happened, he'd volunteered to help out with a soup kitchen that Saibai had decided to support a few times in the past.
"In any case," he began, his voice casual as he walked into the kitchen, "do you have a particular reason for wanting to learn how to use a sword?"
Without waiting for an answer, he deftly reached out, taking both knives from Yami’s hands and replacing them with a peeler. She blinked at it, clearly confused, but he simply demonstrated how to use it on a carrot, peeling it with deliberate ease. As the blade worked its way down the vegetable, she finally spoke, her voice quiet, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
"I feel like lately, I haven’t been making any progress as a fighter."
"Why do you feel you even need to make progress?" he replied thoughtfully, his eyes flicking over her as he expertly showed her how to handle the peeler. "You’re already more than capable as you are." The sheer versatility of her abilities, not the least being her hair, which could transform into any number of deadly weapons, was something that couldn’t be underestimated. Her strength was formidable, rivaled only by a few others, perhaps even Kuro—though their last encounter had ended with him overwhelming the man. Even then, it was clear they hadn’t fought at full capacity, and it was hard to say just how powerful Black Cat truly was.
"I don’t know," Yami admitted, her gaze falling to the carrot in her hands. "I just don’t like the feeling of staying the same. It’s like… nothing has changed since the beginning."
His gaze softened slightly as he listened, then gave her a reassuring smile. "I don’t think you’ve remained stagnant at all. It’s clear you’ve made progress, even if you can’t see it yet."
"I agree," Mikan chimed in, her voice light as she stirred the boiling water for the pasta. "You were so stiff at first, it was almost like talking to a robot, if that makes sense. But now? You’ve got hobbies, right? Like when we go out to buy groceries, or when we stop for taiyaki. Do you enjoy those things?"
Yami’s expression showed some level of conflict at the mention of those small outings. "I do."
Her hands moved carefully to chop the vegetable after he gave her another knife, but in her haste, the blade grazed the cutting board. A small frown appeared on her face as she tried to correct her grip. But instead of scolding her, Emiya placed his hand over hers, gently guiding her again. “Put your finger on the spine of the knife, it makes it easier to handle.” She flinched at first, but didn’t pull away.
“…Thanks.”
"Adding to what Mikan mentioned, such things tend to happen slowly," he murmured, keeping his tone calm and steady. "You can’t expect to see massive results right away. Take your time,—there’s no need to rush. This isn’t a mission. If you treat it like one, it will only stress you out more."
As he spoke, he noticed her posture loosening, her grip on the knife relaxing. She was clearly taking his advice to heart, no longer pressing down with too much force. Her movements were smoother now, more controlled.
"Do you think you’ll be able to handle spice?" he asked, changing the subject as he set the carrot aside.
Mikan chuckled from behind him. "She’s an assassin from space, Shirou. A bit of spice won’t do her any harm."
"You never know," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just pass me that bottle at the end of the cupboard. There are some chillies Ringo brought for us from France a while ago. They should be perfect for today’s lunch."
As Mikan retrieved the bottle, she tossed him a teasing glance. "Just make sure to be careful with how much you put in before you let Yami try it. Oh, and Lala, too. She has a sensitive tongue."
"Are you really that interested in learning to use a sword?" he asked Yami, his tone both curious. Not like he was not taking her seriously, if the young assassin-turned-bodyguard was truly serious with her objective, then better for her to learn such things in a controlled environment with him around. The worst outcome would be for Zastin to get involved and hurt himself or teach Yami the wrong thing.
The blonde girl paused for a moment, her gaze meeting his. "I think… I think I just want to be more than I am. Not for any reason other than… to know I can do it."
Emiya nodded, as though understanding her completely. "Well, then, I’ll help you. One step at a time."
“…Really?”
He shrugged, "I’m not exactly the best teacher. There’s no guarantee you’ll learn anything substantial, and you obviously won’t be able to reproduce my abilities in Magecraft. At best, I can show you the very basics, but nothing too complex; such things would take time we don't have."
Yami’s gaze was steady, unwavering. "The Magic part was never my goal," she replied, watching him with a focused expression as he began to chop vegetables while preparing the sauce. "My main goal is simply to become better at swordsmanship. If I can accomplish that, I believe it will help me refine how I use myself."
…
After lunch, he called the girl to the backyard, where they had more space. Tracing two reinforced wooden bokken, he threw one at her, which she caught easily.
“Just use it as you would in a battle, attack me, and we'll see just where you stand.”
She tilted her head, “…Are you sure?”
“As long as you are not trying to kill me,” he commented, partially serious since at the end of the day, the girl was pretty dangerous even with a wooden weapon.
“Here I come then.”
She held the weapon sideways, which he immediately noticed. Her speed remained as fast as ever, along with that strength; the first strike alone would have shattered the weapon had it not been reinforced.
Well, he had to admit, she had talent. After just half an hour of exchanging strikes with him, most of which he spent performing simple dodges and deflections, Yami proved she was more than capable in combat. Without him even needing to open his mouth, she already started mimicking his movements and posture after only a few moments of observation and a couple of attempts.
"That makes things easier," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I don’t have to start from scratch with you, and you pick things up quickly. Are you sure you’ve never used a sword before?"
"I’ve fought against people who used swords," she answered, not sounding winded in the slightest. So stamina as well was not an issue; he supposed that was as good an answer as any.
"So, does it feel different?" he asked, watching her carefully as she swung the wooden sword overhead, then downwards in a smooth arc which he deflected, forcing her to shift her stance and executing a thrust.
"A bit," she said, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration as she adjusted her form. "It’s different from when I use my hands, when I change them into blades."
"It makes sense why they would be different," he mused aloud, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The style you use when your hands become blades can’t be mimicked or copied the same way as holding a weapon in your fingers. In truth, your method is probably more convenient in battle. You can’t lose your weapons, no one can disarm you, and you can create multiple blades that require extreme levels of force to even chip."
Yami frowned slightly, a flicker of memory in her gaze. "You managed to break them," she said, her voice quiet, as if recalling the moment when his married blades had cut through the strands of her hair. It had taken some effort on his part, but the memory stuck. He had learned that her hair was far stronger than pure steel, impervious to anything modern technology could throw at it—unless it was something like a diamond cutter. But he hadn’t tested that theory yet.
"Kanshou and Bakuya are special," he said, breaking through her thoughts. "They’re made to cut through practically anything remotely mundane. The only weapons that can contend with them are others like them. The fact that yours managed to hold out for so long speaks volumes about how powerful they truly are." He paused, shifting his stance slightly as he continued. "In any case, what you should remember with swordsmanship is that balance is key. From your fighting style, it’s clear you’re more accustomed to being highly mobile—jumping around, flying during battle."
"Yes, I am," she answered, not a slightest hint of pride in her voice as she straightened, still holding the wooden sword in a firm grip that mirrored his.
He observed her for a moment, noting how naturally she adapted to his instructions. A year… no, a couple of months, and she would possess enough skills to challenge a master in skill alone. "You’ll get the hang of this quickly," he said, his voice calm and encouraging. "Just remember, don’t rush it. There’s no need to force the matter."
And so, the afternoon stretched on, filled with the rhythmic clink of wooden swords. Yami’s movements grew sharper, faster than the last one, the more confident she became, each swing and thrust a little more refined than the last.
"Unless you adapt and develop your own style," he began, his voice steady, while correcting her grip, "when using a sword, you’ll need to take a different approach from how you usually fight. I doubt you will try to use what you learned today without finding a way to merge it with what you already know."
To demonstrate, he settled into a standard stance, his posture flawless. "Attack me with your sword, seriously this time, as if I were a real enemy," he instructed, his eyes focused. Yami didn’t hesitate. Her feet kicked off the ground with remarkable strength, and the sound of the wind whistling in her wake reached his ears just as her bokken descended from above with considerable force. The speed and power of the strike were enough to crack a regular person’s skull, should they fail to dodge or block it.
He reacted swiftly, bringing his own sword up at an angle just in time to meet hers. The clash resounded through the courtyard as their weapons collided. He expertly deflected her strike, sending it veering downward before twirling his hand and bringing the edge of his bokken dangerously close to Yami’s neck. She narrowed her eyes, a look of frustration crossing her face. He had specifically told her not to use her hair—if she truly wanted to learn swordsmanship.
“Had you just been using your regular abilities, then dodging that would have been much easier.”
"This is troublesome," she muttered, her voice tinged with self-disappointment, her eyes flicking to the sword resting against her neck.
"It’s normal," he replied, his tone calm, almost reassuring. "This was simply to show you why having the proper form and a counterattack is crucial. Had I allowed you to use your hair, things might have gone differently, but at least now you understand. It's essential to know how to use feints to confuse your opponent."
Yami’s gaze remained fixed on him, her mind processing his words as she listened intently.
"Your method seems to rely on overwhelming your opponents with sheer speed, the number of weapons you can launch at them at once, and the near-indestructibility of your blades," he continued, his voice thoughtful. "But when faced with someone of equal skill and power, that’s where you start to struggle. You're not accustomed to fighting opponents on your own level."
The girl nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. "I understand," she said, her voice quieter now, but resolute.
He gave her a moment before continuing. "So, you need to learn how to make feints. Make your opponent think you're about to strike in one way, only to surprise them with something entirely different. It’s all about catching them off guard, delivering a potentially fatal or crippling blow before the fight can even unfold."
He gestured for her to attack again, this time giving her permission to unleash her full speed if she wished. Yami accepted without hesitation, her determination clear in the fluidity of her movement.
The entire backyard seemed to hum with the rhythm of clashing wooden swords. His eyes darted, moving left and right in quick succession as he tracked each of her strikes, his own sword mirroring her every move. He blocked, deflected, and parried with precision, never once stepping out of his original position. The battle continued for another five minutes, each exchange growing more intense.
Then, without warning, Yami changed her approach. She thrust her sword toward his throat with deadly accuracy. He reacted just in time, moving his neck to the side and allowing the blade to glide past him. As her sword whizzed by, she drew closer, and in a fluid motion, he grabbed her wrist. Twisting his body, he sent her crashing to the ground in a swift, controlled movement.
He didn’t hear a cry of pain, but the expression on her face told him all he needed to know—it had hurt, despite her best efforts to mask it.
Yami lay there for a moment, her breath heavy, trying to collect herself. He held out a hand to help her up, his expression unreadable, but there was a glint of approval in his eyes. It wasn’t just about the fight. It was about understanding the art of it all, of becoming more than a weapon, of becoming the one who controlled the battle.
"You said you would only use your sword," she said, her voice a mix of annoyance and confusion, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.
He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "That’s the beauty of it all during a battle, I lied," he replied, the calmness in his voice belying the intensity of the moment. "I don’t really care about what I say or promise. I never explicitly mentioned I couldn’t use my hands as well, but you get my point."
Yami’s expression darkened slightly, frustration bubbling within her. She was clearly upset, but she didn’t voice it. Fairness, after all, was not something one could rely on in the chaos of real combat. As an assassin, she knew this all too well.
She took a moment to gather her mind, focused on her internal contemplations, before her lips curled into a small, resigned sigh, one that Emiya matched with a smirk. "This time, come at me with all you've got. Use your hair if you have to, turn them into blades or fists for all I care, but attack once more."
Once again, Yami agreed and forced herself to get back up. Shaking off the previous defeat and this time had her other arm turned into a blade while she kept holding the sword. “Are you sure about this? Using a single sword does not mean it's worse than dual wielding, in most cases, it's actually better.”
“I'm just trying out something new.” She came at him with all the ferocity she could muster, her strikes coming at him from every direction, as if to drown him in a flurry of attacks. The speed and intensity of her strikes were overwhelming, aiming to give him no room to maneuver, no way to escape.
But even as her aggression surged, he remained steady, his mind fully able to follow the path of each attack and predict where they would swing. Granted, his mind’s eye allowed him to track every movement, every flick of her wrist, every shift of her body. The attacks, though fierce, were still not enough to catch him off guard. He deflected and parried with practiced ease, surviving each onslaught. Time seemed to stretch as they continued, with Yami giving everything she had while he patiently guided her, refining her form with occasional remarks.
She grew better with each moment, each strike, and even started to use the bokken to deliver feints. The sun slowly began to dip, the sky darkening as a few hours passed unnoticed, until, finally, the light of day was promising to soon be replaced by the cool embrace of night. Finally showing signs of exhaustion, Yami collapsed to the ground, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, while he sat on the ground, not in a better position himself.
He could not exactly go on fighting forever, unlike his Servant self, with the aid of a Master supplying him with energy. He had his limits, and so did she. “I think we may have gotten too far with this lesson. It was supposed to be a small session. Also, why didn't you use your hair?”
“You did not summon other swords.” A simple answer, one that made him shake his head and let out a chuckle.
“Alright then,” ignoring the soreness all over his body, Emiya stood up and walked before the girl to help her out. “Since it's already close to dinner time, might as well stay here for a bit longer. You can even spend the night here if you want. Mikan would love to have a sleepover. I know she always wanted to have one, but for some reason never brings her friends to our home.”
Yami hesitated at first but then accepted his gesture, grabbing his hand as he pulled her back up to her feet. Both of them went to the porch, where they sat down to rest up a bit.
“Mau!”
Immediately, he was greeted by the sight of Celine walking over holding two juice boxes that were a third of her height. “Oh? Did Mikan send you over?” He asked, to which the little plantas girl nodded her head and jumped on his lap immediately after he pierced the straw in the box and looked at him excitedly.
“…You brought this for yourself, didn't you?”
“Mau!”
“…”
Not having anything to say, he relented and placed the juice box in front of her, which she happily began to drink. Celine emptied the entire thing within seconds and let out a loud burp. This resulted in her belching out some droplets that fell on her clothes and generally made a mess. Used to this by now, he wiped her mouth with a projected tissue. All the while, Yami just sat there quietly, observing him.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
“Just wondering if I did well today.”
"Well," he said, his tone light, "that's an understatement. For your first day, things went very well. I suppose it’s just a matter of days—perhaps a month or two of training at most—that will make you good enough with the sword, as you please," he answered truthfully, never one to sugarcoat his responses. “Are you sure you're not feeling any soreness or got injured?”
“No… my body is tougher than that.” Though he agreed with that, perhaps she used more stamina than he anticipated, as the blonde’s face dropped a little with her eyes growing hazy. “I just need to rest a bit to get back to full strength, but I can stay awake for as long as I want. I'm used to it.”
It was at moments like these that he was reminded of Mikan and Rito when they were little. Always staying up late just to see him work on building the shed back when it was just a pile of wooden planks and screws. Their faces drooped with drowsiness as time passed. Before carrying them back to their rooms and resume his project afterward.
So, grabbing Celine and putting the child on her throne, which just happened to be his head and shoulder, he went ahead and approached Yami. The girl was surprised the moment he reached down, gently lifting her from the ground, and carried her inside, placing her carefully on the couch. "Not that I don’t believe you, but doing that is unnecessary and bad for your health. You are not in the middle of a war zone, so just rest now," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You’ve earned it."
As he turned to leave, he heard her voice, faint but clear. "Is this what it feels like… to have a family?"
He froze, the words catching him off guard. He turned back, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, her gaze distant, as though unsure whether to continue. "No… It’s just… when I’m with you and Mikan in the kitchen. When we were having lunch with Rito and the princess… all of us gathered like that. Seeing you interact with them and Celine… then this. I just had memories of the past resurface.”
Memories of the past, huh? From the look on her face, he guessed that hers must have been a sensitive subject. But since she brought up the topic of family, perhaps it was related to that. Now that Emiya thought about it, he never questioned her past or if she even had any relatives or family somewhere out there. Given the kind of person she became, he guessed she had lost them due to some unfortunate circumstances.
Cases like hers, with young children turning to bloodshed after losing their family, were all too numerous in his own world. He had lost count of how many cases he encountered, and could no longer even remember their names or faces. People who were regular assassins, some who became enforcers, child soldiers, and so on.
“I remembered her,” hugging her knees, she rested her head against them while absent-mindedly looking at the ground. “Tearju.”
A name he did not recognize. Taking a seat on the ground beside the sofa, he asked. “Someone you were close with?”
“The earliest memory I have of my past is waking up in a tube of liquid, suspended in that confined space for an unknown amount of time, with several people in white robes coming in regularly to check on me. With time, I grew and gained the ability to see, to speak, to understand language, and I started to recognize the faces outside the tube of glass.”
Growing in a vat of glass, those being her earliest memories, suggested that she may not have even been born the way he was thinking. With more questions growing with each tibit of information from the blonde assassin, he waited and continued to listen.
“Amongst those faces, I grew to recognize a woman who was the one coming to check up on me the most. She talked to me when I could barely understand anything, kept me company every time I was conscious, and taught me a lot of basic knowledge. I learned later on her name, Doctor Tearju Lunatique, the one from whom I originated, as her cells were used to create me.”
“A clone?” he asked, to which he just got a shake of the head from her.
“Not really, Tearju is from a species that is practically identical to humans, but with a slightly longer lifespan. Her cells were used as a genetic template for my creation, which influenced my appearance, nothing more.”
Sounded closer to a Homunculus from his world, but not quite. She did not possess any magic circuits. Her abilities were all biological rather than the byproduct of a spell of magical abilities. Perhaps this world's version of a Homunculus? Perhaps best to look at her like a living organism that was neither, not that it mattered to him in the end.
“Since she was there from the beginning, I grew attached to her. She was the only one who would talk to me… so I suppose almost like a mother… or a big sister. Even back then, I knew that in the entirety of the universe, her knowledge and expertise in biotechnology and artificial life creation knew no equal. People praised her at every given opportunity, I could hear it all from my tube. But she did not see me as another one of her creations, she treated me like a person.”
There were some emotions behind her voice that he had not seen before. Fondness of the past, maybe, longing to see this person whom she saw as family… he couldn't tell. If the person truly cared for her that much, then why let Yami go down such a path?
‘Ah… I see, she was created for a reason.’ If Tear was truly just a regular person with human-like biology, then Yami should not have been born with her powers, but she was. Leaving only the possibility that whoever made this entire operation possible wanted not a clone or Homunculus, but rather a living weapon.
Well, they succeeded.
“I used to be different back then, more child-like, happy, and laugh just like Mikan and the Princess. Whenever she was around, Tearju would teach me more about the world outside the lab, tell me stories whenever I went to sleep. I enjoyed all of them and went to bed with a smile on my face.”
And that girl was nowhere to be seen. The first time he saw her, she was no different from a machine sent out to kill a target. Not an ounce of emotion, dull, empty eyes with nothing but the importance of her mission. “I take it that things did not go down that well afterwards.”
She nodded, “You'd be right. The organization Tearju worked for, at first with the goal of advancing scientific research on artificial life in order to save lives—at least that's what Tearju told me. But at one point, their goal changed, or rather, they stopped pretending and revealed they wanted a weapon… not a person. At that time, the galaxy was still engulfed in a war multiple centuries long, a weapon like me would easily attract the attention of different clientele across different worlds wanting someone killed. Because of that, she left the organization while I remained in their custody.”
So it was the same scenario after all, circumstances born out of the consequences of a bloody war. “From what you have mentioned before about this person, it does not sound to me like she would have left you in the hands of such men by her own accord.”
Yami shrugged, “I don't know. Either she was driven away, captured, killed, or forced to flee. Whether she is alive or dead, I couldn't find anything on her after Kuro arrived and destroyed the organization.”
“Do you wish to find her again?”
“…I don't know.” Her voice grew softer, “I'm not sure what to say or do if I were to see her again. Emiya… would she hate what I’ve become? What has happened cannot be undone.”
“Can't say without truly knowing what kind of person she was, that is only something you can know.” At the end of the day, regardless of what he learned about this person, she was still a stranger whom he knew little to nothing about to make any accurate comments. “But if it helps, I don't see you as a weapon, honestly. Neither does Rito, Ryouko, Mikan, or even Lala. To them, to us, you are Yami, and had you truly been nothing but a weapon… I wouldn't have given you the task of protecting my siblings.”
“...”
“If this Tearju truly cared about you as her own daughter or sister, then at the end of the day, she should still see you as the same Golden Darkness whom she raised. Of course, that's merely speculation on my part.”
“Eve.”
“Hm?” He almost missed what she said, given how silently she spoke, and the name that came out of her mouth was unfamiliar to him. So he looked at the girl who was lying on the sofa facing him.
“That's the name she gave me, Eve.”
“It's a beautiful name,” he said, surprised at how… normal the name sounded. Something he'd hear on Earth.
“It is the name she gave me, but I am no longer that person. I am now Golden Darkness, or Yami. I let go of that name a long time ago. Golden Darkness is more of a moniker I acquired due to my nature, and I made it my own identity.”
A being is fundamentally different from their younger counterparts. Separate entities so distinct from who they once were, to the point of being a completely different person with polar opposite personalities. Detachment of the identity of the past to emphasize how, at the end of the day, they were not the same individuals.
“I understand.”
He raised his hand, gently stroking her hair while she slowly drifted to sleep.
“The past cannot be changed. But becoming completely detached and indifferent to it is not something you should do; it will just come back to haunt you over and over again. While you try to figure that part out, don't forget to experience the present.”
“... Do you… think that I can… be… a part of…” Whatever she was about to say could not be heard as she had already drifted into sleep. Having at some point grabbed Celine to pull her into an embrace with both sleeping and enjoying each other's warmth.
Even though he did not hear what she had to say at the end, he could make a guess. Carefully draping a blanket over them, he looked at the time and figured she could have a big breakfast tomorrow since she missed dinner.
“Even someone who threw away his identity, abandoning everything, and got betrayed by his very ideals, got a somewhat second chance of sorts. I don't see why the same cannot happen to you as well. You are not beyond saving like me, so know that you have a place in this family… for as long as you like.” He pushed a few strands of hair away from her face before getting up and heading towards the kitchen.
As he left, Yami's eyes cracked open ever so slightly, looking at his departing figure. A strange warmth she hadn't felt for a very… very long time crept into her heart. The image of his back changed to that of a person wearing a white lab coat with blonde hair just like hers.
She closed her eyes, holding onto Celine while curling up under the blanket, enjoying both the blanket's warmth and the lingering warmth she felt from his touch.
Comments
SsanghwaSilver
I wonder when Celine briefly turns into her form which she can actually talk will she call Emiya brother, father, or something else...
Hadrian v.E.
Aww!
Luis Enrique Salazar Carrasco
Damn, that was sweet.
Benny
Aww the ending part with Yami opening up to Emiya was very heartwarming and sweet. Although if Yami becomes to at peace with herself, won’t that activate her Darkness mode/transformation sooner than the canon series? Lastly Mea, one of my top favourite To-Love Ru girls has arrived! Can’t wait to see her interact with Emiya.
Luilli Alvarez
A este paso no me sorprenderia si Yami llama a Shirou papá. Nota: cuando limon en To Love a Sword
Thomas Brantley
How sweet at the end
