Chapter 341: Shinji: What Kind of Family Is the Tohsaka House, Really?
Everything froze.
The dazzling light like a falling star, the gale carved across the ground, even the shockwave from Pegasus's thunderous charge—
All of it—no, even the fact that the attack ever existed was erased from reality!
That was Fragarach, the sword that strikes after the strike, the Noble Phantasm that reverses cause and effect itself!
"Ah!"
Miyu screamed, tumbling from Pegasus, rolling twice across the ground.
Her body was far too battered to maintain her Rider form; the Class Card was forcefully ejected from her body, clattering weakly onto the dirt.
Illya could only stare blankly at the sight before her, her mind unable to catch up to what had just happened.
It wasn't that she didn't want to help Miyu, it was simply too fast.
The reversal had already been completed before she could even react.
For veteran Fate fans, the moment Miyu pulled on the reins and dove downward, something felt off.
Too familiar.
This scene—Miyu vs. Bazett—it was a perfect mirror of that legendary showdown between Rider and Saber in the Fate/Stay Night movie.
A classic reborn.
Still, most viewers didn't jump to conclusions right away.
After all, in the HF route, Rider's fight against Saber Alter also had a similar rhythm.
But once Bazett took her stance and drew Fragarach, everyone knew—Miyu was done for.
Because whenever a new, never-before-seen weapon appears in anime—you know it's about to shine.
Even if it never shows up again, even if the wielder gets clobbered next episode, during its debut? It gets its glorious spotlight.
"Miyu's so pitiful," Aoko sighed before the fight even ended.
"Every time she uses a Class Card, it's just to get beaten up. Last time she used Saber and got demolished by Uncle Luvia's butler until she had to resort to the power of yuri. This time she's Rider—and the opponent's in tutorial invincibility mode!"
And sure enough, as soon as Fragarach activated, our would-be savior Kakarot of the night, Miyu, was turned into a face-down Vegeta five minutes into the episode.
Good thing Rider's Noble Phantasm involves Pegasus.
If it had been something like Excalibur—a sword personally swung by the Heroic Spirit—Miyu's body would've been skewered on the spot.
Had Bazett actually gone that far, you can bet another world's Hero of Justice would've jumped across timelines to have a "serious talk" with her.
Not that Miyu's situation was much better now.
Bazett was not the kind of woman to pull her punches.
When she won, she kept winning.
The type who didn't understand the concept of mercy.
She walked up to the fallen girl, grabbed her leg, and—like the Hulk slamming Thor and Loki—smashed her into the ground.
BOOM!
The earth cracked, lightning echoed, and blood trickled from Miyu's lips.
That single impact said it all.
"…There."
Bazett plucked the Saber Class Card from the strap on Miyu's thigh.
"That makes six. The only one left is—"
Her gaze shifted toward Chloe.
She might not have realized it before, but after seeing Miyu's display, it wasn't hard to guess.
The girl who defeated the Archer Card was using the power of the Archer herself.
Bazett didn't know that pulling the Archer Card would make Chloe vanish—but even if she did, she wouldn't care.
This Bazett hadn't yet forged any bonds with Illya's group.
If her mission required killing them all, she would.
"Why… why did she lose?!"
Waver froze in place, his hand still halfway through lighting a cigar, caught in that awkward limbo where you don't know what to do with your hands.
Wasn't Miyu supposed to be Shinji's proxy this time?
How could she go down in one hit?
"It wasn't supposed to go like this— I— I clearly—"
Waver clutched his head, gritting his teeth so hard the veins on his neck stood out.
His face was twisted with frustration—pure, unfiltered unwillingness.
Meanwhile, sitting comfortably in his armchair, Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald looked positively delighted.
He tilted his chin up with an infuriating smirk and said, "Mm, not bad. Now then, what should we have for a late-night snack tonight?"
"..."
The cigar between Waver's teeth nearly snapped in half from the pressure.
The British Isles weren't exactly tropical this time of year, and the nights were freezing.
Worse still, the Department of Modern Magecraft was ridiculously far from the cafeteria—even the nearest one required crossing half the damn castle.
It couldn't be helped.
Before Kayneth took over, the Modern Magecraft Department had been the Clock Tower's unwanted stepchild—underfunded, unloved, and shoved in the farthest corner possible.
Only in the past two years, after Kayneth's reforms, had money begun to flow in.
The equipment got upgrades, the classrooms improved—but infrastructure like kitchens? Still a nightmare. If you wanted food, you had to embark on a pilgrimage through the cold.
Just picturing himself, shivering under the hallway drafts, trudging through the castle to fetch a midnight snack, was enough to make Waver's entire body go stiff—stiff with rage.
Of course, people like Kayneth—the nobles, the Lords, the Department Heads—had the luxury of 24-hour service.
If Kayneth so much as whispered that he was peckish, the kitchen would send someone scurrying with silver trays in hand.
But that wasn't the point.
Kayneth didn't want the snack.
He wanted to watch Waver swallow his pride and go fetch it for him.
Waver was too scrawny anyway. He needed more "exercise."
At least, that's the noble excuse Kayneth gave himself.
"...It's not over yet!"
Waver glared up, restraining every primal urge to flick his cigar ash into his teacher's perfectly angled nose.
"This fight isn't over! I haven't lost yet!"
He looked exactly like a gambler who had already bet away his savings, clinging to one last all-or-nothing hand.
"Oh?"
Kayneth barely even looked interested.
To him, Waver's defiance was nothing but a tantrum—a powerless flare-up before the inevitable defeat.
He mused idly, "Hmm… maybe I should have him carry soup instead."
Yes, soup. That would slow Waver down.
Force him to walk carefully through the halls, and let Kayneth enjoy the tranquil night scenery of the Clock Tower.
The fight on-screen wasn't completely over, true, but that child—Miyu—was finished.
Kayneth might not be a film buff, but he knew Shinji Matou's storytelling style all too well.
Miyu's role was basically done, she'd be benched on the sidelines after this.
Next up was clearly Illyasviel's turn in the spotlight.
Kayneth's prediction wasn't entirely wrong… but he did miss one thing.
Because aside from Illya, Rin and Luvia still had parts to play.
Luvia was badly injured, true, but as the proud heiress of the Edelfelt family, how could she possibly just lie there quietly?
She knew she couldn't match Bazett's power. But she knew Rin Tohsaka's personality even better.
"Even if she's got no chance in hell," Luvia muttered, "that woman will still scheme, bluff, and fight to the bitter end."
Your rival knows you best.
Luvia believed in Rin's cunning with absolute conviction.
"Hmph. You should feel honored, Rin Tohsaka," she whispered through the pain.
"Your underhandedness is the only thing I can guarantee beyond a doubt."
Luvia—down for the count.
Miyu—out cold.
Chloe and Illya—both nearly spent.
And Rin? Still a long way from the battlefield.
To any normal viewer, the heroes' defeat was already written in stone.
But that, as any veteran fan knew—was the cue for the counterattack to begin.
On-screen, Rin was sprinting down a dimly lit underground tunnel, her breath ragged, hair whipping behind her.
When they'd filmed this scene, the production crew had actually built a long, echoing tunnel so Rin Tohsaka herself could do the running.
But watching herself run on screen… was a completely different experience.
Forget magic, forget elegance—seeing herself dripping with sweat and covered in dust made her want to crawl under the seat.
The Tohsaka family motto was "Always maintain grace and poise."
But there was absolutely nothing graceful about this.
She looked like she'd just crawled out of a chimney.
'I didn't feel embarrassed while filming, but now it just looks… awkward…'
Rin puffed her cheeks and shot Shinji a venomous glare.
Now that she thought about it, in every one of Shinji's scripts, she was always dirty, bruised, and running around like a disaster magnet.
Never once had she been allowed to stay elegant for more than ten seconds.
'This bastard's doing it on purpose!'
"What's with that look?" Shinji asked, confused by the daggers in her eyes.
"Hey, if this is about Luvia's line—she's your rival! You're supposed to take everything she says in reverse, you know?"
"She calls you underhanded, but what she really means is that you're resilient—you never give up, no matter what. That's a compliment!"
He shrugged.
"Come on, it's not like I wrote that your Tohsaka family always screws up at the crucial moment, which is why you've achieved absolutely nothing for generations."
"'Achieved absolutely nothing'!? Thanks a lot, Shinji Matou!"
Rin snapped.
She lunged forward, ramming her shoulder into him with a perfect Iron Mountain Lean.
"So it was on purpose, you jerk! You wrote me to be miserable on purpose!"
"What do you mean miserable? I just write what's real!"
"Shut up already!"
And with that, Rin silenced him the only way the Tohsaka bloodline knew best—through direct, physical application of tsundere violence.
Shinji had forgotten an important fact: besides their ancestral tendency to fumble at critical moments, the Tohsakas also had a proud, centuries-old tradition—hereditary tsundere syndrome.
Blushing furiously, Rin unleashed her full martial-arts repertoire on Shinji right there on the studio floor, each strike a perfect blend of embarrassment and indignation.
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