Chapter 34
Emiya
The pillars of any good workplace, Tanya once lectured, were a fair compensation package, clear opportunities for upward mobility, and—last but not least—solid job security.
That and a dozen other such pearls were among the many lessons she eagerly shared after Emiya's fateful decision to humor her request for a library visit.
In his defense, there was no way to foresee that his sister's idea of leisure reading would involve arcane tomes of economic theory instead of fairy tales.
By then, he'd already figured out that Tanya was different—smarter than other children her age, immune to cartoons, and completely disinterested in the live-action show about a crime-fighting woman in a mouse costume.
So, thinking she might appreciate something with more bite, he'd left her alone for one minute to grab Le Morte d'Arthur. When he returned, she was already nose-deep in titles like Capitalism and Freedom and Basic Economics.
That was the moment Emiya began to suspect his sister was some kind of prodigy.
And if there was one thing prodigies loved, it was making sure you noticed. Thus, the deluge of lectures on business, economy, and a famous school in Chicago.
Of course, Tanya had no idea Emiya was already employed.
Sure, the compensation package was non-existent, and there was zero upward mobility.
But the job security? Unparalleled. No one quits when they work for the Counter Force.
Of course, the best jobs didn't stop at salary and security. They came with perks like skill development, or travel.
Alaya didn't skimp on either. Emiya had seen the world across both space and time axes.
One example? Rome.
At the time, a particularly unhinged offshoot of Christianity got fed up with the decadence of the Empire—business as usual—and its current Emperor in particular. Their response was to take things literally biblical and attempt to baptize the city in holy fire.
That, at least, was the impression Emiya gathered from lamentations and desperate prayers of the people responsible. Apparently, the ritual was not supposed to just kill everyone.
Whatever the specifics, the result was a nightmare: a runaway bounded field, a hellish furnace that consumed all within. It trapped the population, burning them alive and using their deaths as fuel for a self-sustaining and ever-expanding sacrificial engine that was deemed a threat to the Human Order.
The obvious solution to the crisis was to deprive it of fuel. That's what Emiya was deployed to do.
Six days of fire. Six days of failed breach attempts by the Roman legions. Six days of Emiya cutting down every living soul, one after another.
At some point, the Romans wheeled out siege engines in a last-ditch effort to batter the bounded field into submission. That was when he glimpsed the Emperor performing some kind of musical number in front of the catapults, as if directing an orchestra of destruction
The sight raised far too many questions, but the point was Emiya walked away from that mission with something valuable: a new Noble Phantasm.
Of course, that instance of Aestus Estus couldn't have been a Noble Phantasm at the time, but either due to his own atemporal nature or Alaya throwing a bone to her cleaner, Unlimited Blade Works recorded it as such.
Another example of professional growth would be how he got the sword Tanya was now sulking over missing on the sofa, while Emiya was putting in extra effort into her cuppa.
Among the many rules upheld by the Mage's Association, one rule stood out as particularly ironic: never attempt to reach the Root inside the Clocktower.
Odd, wasn't it? Considering the Clocktower was one of the best places for such things, and the Root was the end goal of nearly every mage who walked its halls
The reason is simple—the Mage's Association did not want to invite the wrath of the Counter Force upon their headquarters. The risk of revealing magecraft inside one of the most populated and heavily monitored centers was a good enough reason on its own, but the potential loss of the spiritual grave of Albion would be a catastrophic blow to everyone.
Naturally, someone tried.
Such was the nature of the Tree of Possibilities: every so often, a timeline produced an idiot selfish enough to attempt it, stealthy enough to dodge the watchdogs, and smart enough to nearly succeed.
Curiously, for some reason Alaya was fairly hands-off in these matters. The Counter Guardians were given a target, but how they went about it was left to their discretion. Even diplomacy was in the cards, if they thought it was possible to talk a magus out of achieving their lifelong ambition.
Good luck with that.
Still, it meant there was no compulsion to follow the usual procedure of killing everyone in a certain radius. Emiya welcomed the change of pace and tried a quieter approach.
Another reason the Clocktower was a tempting place to attempt reaching the Root was because it was one of the most heavily protected locations on Earth. Layers upon layers of wards, bounded fields, spirits, familiars—it was a fortress. The deeper he went, the harder it became to remain undetected.
Even with all his anti-magecraft tools, Emiya was discovered fairly quickly.
Zelretch greeted him by stepping out of a portal, giving him a look, and keying him into the wards. Then he walked away without a saying word. Although Emiya felt a few divination spells of the recording variety tickle the edge of his presence. Either a teaching material or personal amusement for the Wizard Marshall.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Emiya pressed onward, descending into the Clocktower's depths.
From the setup, his target attempted a ritual using the sympathetic link between the original Sword of Paracelsus and its counterpart within the Throne to brute-force a path toward the Root. Similar in principle to the Heaven's Feel ritual, only instead of being powered by the decades-worth accumulated reservoir of mana, it would cannibalize the spiritual grave of Albion. Violently.
If successful, it would've blown a good chunk of London.
Fortunately, Alaya's vested interest in Root-denial wasn't exactly a common knowledge. Each road to the Root could be walked exactly once, and so information like that was hoarded.
As such, the ritual chambers' defenses against spiritual entities weren't sufficient. One quick stab with Gae Dearg and it was over.
A far cry from his dispatch to Tokyo, where an entire residential complex had to be purged from undead. Or his other visit to the Clocktower, when Alaya decided that Flat Escardos—of all people—had to go.
On one hand, Zelretch, Barthomeloi and others didn't sit that one out, which marked one of the few instances when Emiya died on a mission. One the other hand, the time period had roughly aligned with Emiya Shirou's presence in the Clocktower, but Emiya didn't encounter him.
A pity.
It was the closest he'd been.
At least other than Flat there were no other familiar faces.
With that thought, Emiya finished preparing the coffee, carefully drawing the kanji for 'Perseverance' in the foam before stepping away from the counter.
The cup clicked against the saucer as he set the cup on the table in front of Tanya. The soft sound echoed faintly through the Wards quarters.
"Are you upset?" Missy asked quietly, her hand resting gently on Tanya's shoulder. The girl sat beside his sister on the couch, clearly trying to offer support. Emiya appreciated the display, but in his opinion, Missy was overreacting. Tanya didn't break down easily. She never threw tantrums and hadn't cried since she was a literal baby. Even Alicia's funeral was spent in somber silence.
That didn't mean his sister was fine. Over the years, Emiya had learned to read her cues. The flatter the expression, the worse her mood. And right now, her features were carved from stone.
Tanya took a long sip of the coffee brewed from Dean's elite beans and poured with Emiya's best attempt at cheer. But when she lowered the cup, there was no telltale signs of satisfaction: no loosened shoulders or faint curving of her lips.
Now that was bad.
"I am not upset, Missy," she said calmly.
The creak of leather signaled Dean adjusting his posture on the opposite side of the sofa. Tanya's eyes darted to the boy, causing him to freeze like a deer in the headlights.
She sighed. "Fine. I'm a little frustrated. But it's not that big a deal."
You didn't need to know Tanya her whole life like Emiya or be an empath like Dean to know that was a lie.
When they got back from school, Tanya had ignored the usual wave of questions and gone straight to her room. Moments later, she reemerged like a missile and demanded to know who had taken the Noble Phantasm.
The flurry of interrogations left Carlos concerned, Dean nervous, and Sophia angry.
Dennis cracked a joke.
Tanya had almost cracked Dennis.
That left Chris as a suspect. She had barged the door of his workshop with the fury of a thousand suns, thinking he was taking the sword apart. The boy got scared so badly he spilled a bottle of pills all over the floor. But the sword wasn't there either.
"I still don't get it," Chris said carefully, perched on a chair. "You said it's a computer. Why's that an A-Class?"
Tanya took another sip, letting the silence stretch. At least she hadn't thrown the cup. "An A-class tinkertech device is defined by its capacity for widespread destruction and loss of life. In this case, Shirou's creation enables exactly that."
"How? It's a sword."
"The sword itself has no offensive capabilities," she explained. "But it's a parahuman built design that enables my power. Which, as far as the PRT's concerned, means my Blaster 8 rating effectively transfers to the sword."
Once it became clear that none of the Wards had taken it, Tanya had no choice but to report theft. From there, the two of them were called to Miss Militia's office and informed that the PRT had confiscated "dangerous tinkertech," and Tanya was not allowed to have it without formal clearance and special circumstances.
Needless to say, 'recreational flight' didn't count.
Tanya hadn't made a scene and gave up after only a bit of arguing, but Emiya wasn't pleased. The PRT had simply taken a Noble Phantasm from him like it was theirs to begin with.
Turned out, it was. All tinkertech made by parahumans under the PRT's aegis was legally their property loaned back to the employees. It was in the contract Emiya signed without reading.
He tried to argue that it wasn't tinkertech, only to be politely informed that he'd been given a provisional Tinker rating from day one, and as such, whether his weapons were tinkertech or not was the PRT's decision.
Emiya's other swords involved little to no technology, but Sword of Paracelsus was put into official paperwork as 'computer' – thus technology – and from Emiya's own words no less.
But even if such was not the case, totemic items and other parahuman empowered objects were the property of the PRT anyway. Just like Armsmaster and Chris, Shawn didn't own his gear, even if neither of the three actually thought about it that way.
Emiya didn't quite know what to say. If the PRT contracts were mystically enforced, he might as well have sold his soul a second time. It was, after all, one giant armory.
Who knew that letting people assume whatever they wanted about his magecraft would return to bite him in the ass?
To be fair, from a certain point of view, Sword of Paracelsus could easily be called technology. Just... centuries ahead of its time. So not unlike tinkertech.
It didn't help that of all the branches of magecraft, Alchemy was the one closest to science—thanks in no small part to Paracelsus himself.
The man had vastly accelerated the decline of alchemical traditions in his quest to make magecraft accessible to everyone. For someone credited with establishing an entire Magical Foundation, Paracelsus was weirdly determined to destroy as much Mystery as he could in his lifetime.
If he'd thought something like his sword, even if infinitely less complex, was achievable by mundane means, he would have tried to popularize personal computers as well.
In the end, Emiya had no recourse. He had a feeling Miss Militia was trying to convince them a little too hard, but could muster no other argument sans 'it's mine dammit, give it back.'
Which was a problem, because Traced projections were stable existences. Unless broken, they could remain indefinitely. The trash Emiya collected in his shed back in Fuyuki might well have outlived him, if only because inanimate objects do not throw themselves head first into danger.
The act of dismissing them was an active process on Emiya's part, requiring proximity or line of sight.
He proposed to do just that, but was warned that if Tanya was ever to be allowed to use it, the sword had to go through the evaluation process.
His sister asked him not to.
"But... it's not the tech, it's you," Chris pointed out.
"Crack open the Internal Revenue Code and you will find much wilder examples," Tanya shrugged. "Bureaucracies are like that some times. They categorize what they can, and they err on the side of caution. The PRT's parahuman classification isn't the most precise system to begin with. Sword of Paracelsus is a technological device made by a parahuman and can be used to devastating effect. Ergo, it's an A-class tinkertech."
"Cool name," Chris added, nodding at Emiya as he put down a tray full of mugs.
Emiya rolled his eyes. The name was about as unimaginative as they came.
It was almost funny how the PRT had nailed the danger of the sword without understanding a thing about it. Sword of Paracelsus did have offensive capabilities—just not ones Tanya could actually use. Or Emiya, for that matter.
Noble Phantasms were temperamental and came with all kinds of restrictions, ranging from specific traits required of the wielder and all the way to the whims of the weapon itself. That was why most magi could only study the remaining originals.
Emiya was a rare exception, able to access their functions through Unlimited Blade Works.
Giving that access to someone else was a different story. Ironically, it was the complexity of the Sword of Paracelsus that made it possible.
At its core, Sword of Paracelsus was a personal Mystic Code. It could store impressive amount magical energy, greatly amplify magecraft, and assist in spellcasting like nothing else. A mastercraft work that would be a prize heirloom for any family.
Add in the sword's ability to decipher and replicate magical phenomena? The haughtiest Lords of the Clocktower from the most ancient of families would gladly sacrifice heirs to obtain it.
The sword might not have been the reason Paracelsus was murdered—he had enough sense not to advertise he was stealing secrets left and right—but had it been known at the time...
In the end, the sword had withstood centuries of the Clocktower's attempts to break through its protections. Then it had crystalized into a Noble Phantasm and everyone basically lost hope.
At most, they'd studied it enough to develop a watered-down derivative—the Azoth Sword.
And Emiya? He gave it to Tanya to use as a very powerful, very magical calculator.
Say what you want about Paracelsus and his crusade to rip the veil off magecraft, in some regards he was still a typical magus. He cared about thing like the inheritance of the family craft. Or at least the man had still cared while forging his Mystic Code, seeing as he didn't leave any progeny.
Still, any heir of Paracelsus by blood or crest could use the sword. It was part of its make.
The ironic part was the sword being too advanced a tool, too complex a system. For all intents and purposes, it was a computer.
So, unlike Emiya's other weapons, it couldn't simply allow him to use itself. An analytical tool such a this had to categorize him to resolve any number of contradictions within its web of wards, enchantments and, for a lack of a better word, programming.
As a new entity that had to be granted access, Emiya was effectively made a parallel owner within the sword's internal hierarchy. With all the access to the inheritance protocols.
All Emiya had to do, was to key in his bloodline. It was redundant for him, but after Tanya had confirmed blood relation it gave her access as well.
Admittedly, it wasn't as simple as it sounds. A tool of this complexity should have any number of ways of confirming relation other than the standard bloodletting, but there was a reason Emiya never actually used Sword of Paracelsus.
One of them was his lack of a standard Element. The alchemical synthesis and destructive release of True Ether was a process handled by the Noble Phantasm, but it had to be catalyzed by all Five Great Elements.
Fire, Wind, Water, Earth and Void.
Emiya's Element was Sword.
Mana storage was extremely useful... as long as you could perform gemcraft. Emiya couldn't. His time with Rin taught him how todraw on mana, but to store it was beyond him. It wasn't even about Rin's reluctance to share her mysteries, the craft was simply beyond him.
Same went for spell replication. For all the skills of the original owners Emiya could replicate through their weapons, magecraft wasn't one of them. Otherwise, he would be the greatest practitioner of his time simply by the grace of having Medea's dagger.
As for the spell amplification, Emiya had exactly four spells, and the sword was marginally useful for only two.
But the main reason was that either Paracelsus wasn't big on user interfaces or, most likely, what was intuitive for him wasn't intuitive for Emiya. He couldn't be arsed dredge through the internal functions in search of the relevant option.
Thankfully, the sword recognized the traditional method of blood-bonding and inheritance, and so did the rest on its own.
Tanya's interpretation of it being DNA-locked wasn't that far from the truth.
Amusingly, Emiya doubted Paracelsus would've minded his sword being handed off. By the end of his life, the man went completely insane—by magi standards—and claimed all future generations of magi as his children. Maybe he simply hadn't lived long enough to lift the locks himself before the Clocktower assassins got to him.
"That's total bullshit," Dennis said, taking a mug from Emiya. "Plenty of capes are dangerous. Missy can go downtown and bring down a skyscraper or two. Just shrink the foundation and pinch it out. She's a 9 to your 8, and nobody's yanking her chain."
"I totally could," Missy agreed. "It would collapse long before fitting between my fingers though."
"Killing everyone inside," Dean added flatly.
"I still could."
Sophia scoffed. "Yeah, after an eternity of setting it up and only if no one's inside to get in the way. You'd get taken out before you got halfway through, shrimp."
Missy drew breath to fire back, but Emiya cut her line of sight to push a mug into her hands. She got quiet and from the corner of his eyes Emiya noticed Dennis sending him a subtle nod.
Why?
"Missy remains a Shaker 9, regardless of equipment," Tanya said calmly. "Which means there's no grounds to act."
"That's my point! We're all dangerous in theory," Dennis pushed. "I could freeze a quarter mid-air on a busy road. Chris could cook up a bomb. Dean could…" He glanced around. "Okay, some of us are more dangerous than others, but still. Why only your power gimped?"
Dean shifted uncomfortably, Carlos looked like he didn't know if he should be annoyed, while Sophia looked downright insulted.
"Say that again, I dare you," she hissed. "I don't even need powers to beat your ass!"
"Relax, Stalker. I meant mass-casualty dangerous. If it's just ass-beating, Shirou's got us all calling him daddy."
Missy choked on her drink.
"Spare me the nightmarish image," Emiya grumbled, pulling onigiri from the steamer.
"C'mon," Dennis grinned. "We could totally pass for family."
That was one reason Emiya didn't particularly like Dennis and Chris. The similarities were superficial at best but enough.
Looking in the mirror was already annoying without two idiots running around calling themselves heroes.
Tanya cleared her throat. "The reason, Dennis, is the difference between failing to control a parahuman and actively arming them to cause a disaster. That difference comes down to legal liability. I hope you understand why causing a disaster using the PRT's property they are responsible for distributing is worse for the organization?"
"That's not fair," Missy complained, as Emiya laid snacks on the table.
"Fairness has nothing to do with it," Tanya said. "Director Piggot has to follow the PRT regulations. If those regulations put Sword of Paracelsus under A-class, then her hands are tied. She has already cut corners for me."
"What do you mean?" Missy asked.
"Both the Azoth Sword and Sword of Paracelsus were made by my brother. Now, the former was filed under the system as tinkertech, so should be the latter. The fact that it hasn't been confiscated to be put through the tinkertech evaluation—which I've heard can be a long process," she looked to Chris for confirmation.
"It really depends," he shrugged and started counting fingers. "Backlog, priority level, complexity. Could be two weeks, could be a month. I mean Armsmaster could speed up the process but he almost never..." Chris trailed off. "On the other hand, you are his kids, so..."
"He has important work to do." Tanya waved it off. "Anyway, that it hasn't happened tells me Director Piggot is taking advantage of the existing classification—as a totemic item—to avoid the full review. It's technically bending the rules, but much easier to defend. She strikes me as the kind of leader willing to work within the gray areas to gain operational advantages. Makes sense, really. The heroes are outnumbered as it is, and compromising my combat effectiveness further would be strategically unwise."
"Okay, now you've lost me," Dennis said, taking a mouthful bite of onigiri. "Piggy doing shomeshing nishe–"
He choked under Tanya's murderous glare.
"P-pardon," he coughed, washing it down with coffee and flashing an innocent smile. "As I was saying, If Piggot's already bending the rules for you, why not just give you the sword? We could really use our own Purity."
Tanya didn't even blink. "And risk her career? An argument could be made that my powers are special case, but no agency rewrites its SOPs for a single employee. Not without a due cause."
Sophia sneered. "Piggot's neutering you and you are taking it lying down."
"Am I supposed to throw a tantrum? Following the rules will prove me trustworthy in the long run. I am more likely to get permission to have the sword on a permanent basis if my assurances of following orders will hold weight."
"You thing they'll let you carry A-Class weapon?" Carlos sounded very skeptical.
"As I've said, my powers are something of an edge case. I am dependent on hardware, not just my Blaster rating, but Mover and Shaker as well. It may even improve my medical formulas. Any number of arguments could be made on why I should be allowed an exception. Whether they are successful, however, depends entirely on political and goodwill."
"How likely is that to happen?"
"I am not entirely sure. Heightened mobility, healing and defensive capacity could be a game changer by themselves; with the sword I can do a lot more than just offensive formulas. That may be enough for Director Piggot, but given the theoretical fallout in question, it may not be her decision alone. It could very well be that I'll have to raise my value and improve standing with the PRT as a whole."
Carlos reached for a snack. "I don't know, Tanya. Bringing in Lung and the Undersiders sounds like a big contribution. If that wasn't enough..."
He sniffed at it, then cautiously took a bite. Emiya considered making a comment about the skepticism until the appreciative noise mollified him.
"Obviously it would take more. Besides, Lung was the real prize, and it was Armsmaster who took him down," Tanya said. "The Undersiders? They are petty thieves with low danger profile."
Right, Armsmaster's glorious victory over the dragonoid. For all that people living in Lung's territory referred to the man exclusively as the Dragon, the reality looked like something that had escaped a chimerist's workshop.
The whole affair was frankly ridiculous. Blatant lies, falsified reports, and what Emiya was pretty sure counted as a governmental fraud. All for what? Because his sister's perfectionism couldn't tolerate a blemish on her record, and Armsmaster's need for validation?
The night had already been exhausting: an A+ rank projection that made this body ache, followed by a breakneck flight with Tanya's bony shoulders painfully stabbing into his arms the whole way and, finally, the cherry on top—dogs bursting from dead chimera flesh and immediately deciding he was to blame. For some ungodly reason.
And naturally, the two masterminds were two engrossed in scheming to offer a hand.
If it had required anything more from him than doing exactly nothing, Emiya would have told them both to go die on a hill.
"There's also Krieg," Carlos added.
"That was a team effort," Tanya waved it off. "And, well..." Her expression twisted in distaste. "I wouldn't call bringing in Krieg much of an achievement."
"Are you being serious right now?" the boy's eyebrows jumped in incredulity. "He's been active for years. He's like, what, fourth most dangerous in the Empire?"
"He lucked out on power. In Brockton Bay, only Dauntless, Laserdream, and Lady Photon can counter him reliably. Maybe Armsmaster or Chris, if properly equipped. Even then, I'm surprised he's lasted this long."
Carlos looked unconvinced.
"In the end, it would take more than bringing in a bunch of literal morons to make me stand out. For now, I just have to be patient and wait for an opportunity."
"But you're still upset," Dean observed.
Tanya exhaled. "The sword gave me unrestricted flight. Not hover, not short jumps—real flight. Above the clouds."
She looked up at the ceiling, as if looking at the sky. "It was... magical." A small pause. "Shirou knows."
Dean sent him a questioning look which was returned a flat stare. The boy winced in understanding.
Ah yes. Dean's girlfriend could fly, too. Most likely he too understood what it felt like to be a backpack for a determined high-altitude blonde.
Still, that was dangerously close to a slip-up. Tanya had never mentioned their little trip in the sanitized reports. Which meant she'd enjoyed the memory enough to forget herself.
Perhaps it was worth all the trouble. I've never heard her laughing so much. Although the next time she goes flying, she'll do so without me.
"Sooo," Chris leaned toward Emiya with hopeful eyes. "Wanna explain how the sword works? Kinda curious."
"No."
"Aw, come on! It's your first original tinkertech! We could totally brainstorm something."
"First?" Carlos raised a brow. "What about Yin and Yang?"
The what?
"Wouldn't mind explanation on those either," Chris said. "I scanned them and it's just plain old swords. Wootz steel with bronze layers. They shouldn't be shining like that and they certainly shouldn't be that magnetic."
"Kanshou and Bakuya," Emiya corrected, rummaging through the pantry. "Their names are Kanshou and Bakuya."
The grocery stock was running low. Come to think of it, Ichirou still owed him from last time. There was enough of the day left; perhaps it was time to collect.
Tanya tilted her head. "The smith and his wife from Spring and Autumn period? Considering you appreciation for Malory, I wouldn't think you are into Chinese classicals, brother."
He wouldn't call it appreciation per se, but that the book was one of the more digestible depictions of Artoria's life. If one full of inaccuracies.
"I have diverse interests. Besides, the story is ubiquitous enough to be found almost everywhere."
"Hmm. I suppose it's natural for boys to be drawn to tales about legendary swords."
Yeah, let's go with that.
"You two are such fucking nerds," Sophia groaned from across the room.
"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'culturally enriched'," Tanya said.
"No I fucking didn't!"
Tanya glanced at him, and they both rolled their eyes simultaneously. Which failed to calm Sophia any.
"Whatever." Chris waved off the exchange and turned to Emiya. "Look, Shirou, Tinkers share tech all the time. Collaborating can be a game-changer. That's one of the big perks of working for the PRT."
Was it? Emiya had a hard time imagining Armsmaster sharing anything. The man only cooperated when you had something he needed. After all, that was the reason Emiya gave Chris the halberd.
"At least tell me about the architecture," Chris said. "Maybe I can use it."
Architecture? What, a slab of the Elixir fixed to a handle and covered in alchemical silver? Anything beyond that would be borderline impossible to explain.
Tracing gave Emiya insight into origin of his weapons, but not the exact process of creation. Certainly not enough to recreate them by hand.
He knew a rough approximation of how Paracelsus forged his Mystic Code, but rough didn't cut it when the entire thing was a nightmare puzzle box of high-level Alchemy and layered encoded rituals.
While not as mystically potent as weapons of the Age of Gods, Sword of Paracelsus was one of, if the most painstakingly complex in his arsenal.
In comparison, something like Gae Bolg was borderline primitive. Not to diminish Scathach's craftsmanship, but bones of Curruid were a far more powerful material than anything readily available to a 16th-century alchemist.
Of course, Paracelsus wouldn't be a genius if he let something so trivial to stop him.
Through his studies of Astrology and Alchemy, the man had eventually synthesized the Elixir—a photoconductive crystalline material with high mana retention and magecraft affinity.
It was an achievement all on its own, but Paracelsus took it a step further. Surprisingly, it wasn't mystical properties of the Elixir that had captured the man's imagination, but more mundane ones.
During his lifetime, math was in vogue once again, and as a practitioner of precise arts, the Swiss alchemist recognized something extraordinary: the material's photosensitive lattice shifted between distinct, reproducible optical states. If those states could be controlled, they could be counted. If they could be counted, they could be operated on. And operations could be chained into instructions.
In that moment, Paracelsus saw the first glimmer of a programmable device.
The Engine of Independent Logical Operations.
Soon enough, amidst the dusty tomes on Kabbalah and Archimedes' works, Paracelsus had created the world's first computer able to scan, record, analyze and break down magical phenomena in a spiral of recursive mathematical rituals. Then recompile it from that.
A Grand Ritual in a sword-shaped bottle. Geniuses were ridiculous like that.
If the old proverb about a fireball and burning wood was the introductory example of how thin the line between magecraft and mundane was, then Paracelsus doing software engineering in an age where people counted beans with abacus should tell you how difficult it was to cross that line.
As for the Elixir's famed ability to grant immortality? Nonsense. Paracelsus had searched for immortality once, but the material itself had not life-granting properties. Although the rumors alone spooked the Association enough to perform a séance just to double-check he was dead.
Anyway, Emiya was explaining none of that to Chris. He had no idea how and had no interest in trying.
"I doubt it would be useful to you," he waved the off. "The sword's architecture is based on a crystalline metamaterial I have no idea how to synthesize."
Hours spent in Armsmaster's lab had at least helped him pick up some of the lingo.
"What do you mean, you have no idea? You made it!"
"Tinkering," Emiya shrugged. He'd noticed people's eyes getting glossy the moment the word came into question. One of the reasons to let everyone make assumptions. "Inspiration. The night was young, the Moon shone in Tanya's bottomless blue eyes, I blacked out. Next moment, I'm holding a strange sword that can do math."
He vaguely recalled seeing a commercial on the subject. Their flat back in New York had been small, and Tanya's TV habits meant that Emiya was occasionally exposed to bits of parahuman trivia. It boiled down to a man with a peculiar gun-blade explaining that if your child stars taking apart the TV and is unresponsive, they shouldn't be interrupted. Call the PRT!
Chris was inspired by Shawn, Armsmaster was inspired by Dennis, Emiya was inspired by Tanya.
"That's not how it works!" Chris protested. ""Even in a fugue, you know your builds afterward!"
"What would you know?"
"I am a Tinker! I've been through it! I know how this stuff goes!"
"Maybe wait until you've figured out your specialty before throwing around expert opinions," Emiya remarked snidely, in hopes of being left alone.
Sophia snorted, and Dennis threw him annoyed look.
Chris bristled. "I have figured it out."
Everyone turned to him.
"Really?" Missy perked up. "Congrats. What is it?"
"Modification," Chris said, sheepish and a touch unsure. "Or maybe Integration. Stuff I build from scratch kind of sucks. But having the halberd to work with made everything so much easier. Mods and attachments practically slot it. Which is kinda big deal, considering how tightly everything's packed."
"So all this time you just needed someone else's doodads to work with?" Dennis asked.
"Wow," Sophia mocked. "I knew you were spineless, but a literal leech?"
Chris wilted a bit, but ignored the girl and answered to Dennis directly.
"I guess. Maybe not necessarily tinkertech, but with Shirou around, I'm not short on that. Piggot slashing my budget would've been a lot worse without him." He sighed and turned to me. "Fine, keep your stuff. Anything new from the lab?"
There was a strange mix of dejection and expectation in his eyes, that Emiya didn't quite know what to think about.
Ever since the halberd, Chris had gotten used to treating him like a walking warehouse. Not that Emiya had much to give. His time in Armsmaster's workshop was mostly spent projecting nanoforges. But sometimes, he used Structural Analysis on things out of curiosity. Even a third-rate magus could want to improve his craft.
As a result, Chris got a lot of mundane components and tinkertech. Granted the latter was heavily degraded due to Emiya not having the originals work off in Wards quarters, but surprisingly, he was improving.
It was a nice divergence if nothing else. Emiya also knew that it would annoy Armsmaster.
"Got a nanotech halberd," Emiya shrugged, opening the freezer. With today's Wards training canceled, it was time to start on dinner. "Disrupts molecular bonds."
Chris lit up like a Christmas tree.
Tanya didn't.
"Are you being serious right now, Shirou?" she asked like she couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. "The PRT just banned one dangerous item. Do you really think they'll be fine with you handing out Anti-Endbringer weapons next?"
"Anti-Endbringer?" Carlos' brows shot up. The rest of the wards looked surprised as well.
Emiya scoffed. "Armsmaster wants to quite literally duel Leviathan. I am not joking."
His sister raised a single brow. "Why so dismissive, brother? I, for one, think it's great someone is actively trying to eliminate them."
"I don't have a problem with him killing the beast, but I've been observing his work on Nanothorn from start to finish. He poured so much soul into the weapon that I can practically see through his mind's eye. Do you know that Nanothorn is unpainted because Armsmaster wants a better contrast against his armor when delivering the killing blow? He was literally thinking about one-liners for the battle."
Watching a bladesmith of Armsmaster's level work on his masterpiece was quite the experience for Emiya. It had provided a surprising depth of understanding of both of the weapon and the creator, and would be enjoyable if not for the creator himself.
Usually, Armsmaster was about as expressive as a rock, but the subtle change in his grip as he imagined striking Leviathan down, a slight twitch of his lips as he thought about what speech to deliver...
"It's not enough for him to kill Leviathan, he wants to look cool while doing it."
Tanya chuckled. "Like father, like son, I suppose."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Emiya shot her a frown.
She set the cup down with an attention-grabbing care and cleared her throat.
"I amthe bone of my Sword."
After Tanya's dramatic delivery, the room fell into complete silence.
"The fuck?" Sophia eventually blurted.
Tanya's expression didn't change, but a faint blush crept up her cheeks. "I sincerely hope you don't plan to make it a part of your brand, brother. It was mortifying enough in private. If it goes public, I might just die."
Emiya just stared at her.
"What's that about?" Dennis asked.
"Oh, Shirou thought a bit of poetry would go great with his power. That 'trace on' thing he does is... fine, but this time he broke into a full verse about having a body of steel and fiery blood. Very embarrassing," she grabbed the cup to take another seep.
He didn't quite know what to say.
Emiya didn't strictly need to do it every time, but partially invoking Unlimited Blade Works made it easier to pull weapons out. Something as low-ranking and intimately familiar as Kanshou and Bakuya was one thing, but an A+ rank Noble Phantasm? He could force it, but there was no need to damage himself.
Still, that it took four lines and Emiya still strained himself was frustrating. He hadn't neglected magic circuits in this body. Emiya opened them early and exercised them regularly. For his jobs if nothing else. They were in peak condition.
Although, it was the only thing about this body that was in peak condition. Properly utilizing magic circuits in a child's body was unfamiliar grounds. The first time around, his method at this age had been... unorthodox.
"The incantation is necessary, because it helps me focus," Emiya tried to explain. "I don't just grab things from thin air, you know? I have to construct them in my mind, visualize, stabilize – it's a whole process."
He frowned. "And what do you mean embarrassing? It's deeply meaningful."
No one had ever offered such commentary to what was, essentially, a story of his life. Emiya would be the first to say it was full of regret, but... embarrassing?
Admittedly, for the vast majority of people, those were the last words they ever heard. No one offered feedback to the Spirits of the Counter Force.
"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Shirou," Tanya said. "The emphasis you put on the words sounds like a vague reference to your penis."
That earned a chorus of reactions. Missy nearly sprayed her drink. Dennis wheezed like a dying kettle. Even Sophia chuckled.
"Is this the gratitude I get for giving you the damn sword?!" Emiya spluttered. For some inane reason, he felt his face heat up, despite knowing Tanya was simply wrong.
She didn't bat an eye.
"Don't misunderstand me, brother. I'm not mocking you," she said patiently. "You may think it sounds great now, but as your sister, it falls to me to make sure you don't do something you'll regret later. Imagine this going viral and someone brings it up five years from now, when you're a successful Protectorate member. Leading your own team even. It's not as bad as the Boston Protectorate leader screaming slurs, but public opinion is ever merciless and the internet never forgets."
The internet...
Was she still on about that blasted forum?!
Emiya dearly regretted ever agreeing to post a single word on that forum. Maybe—maybe—he'd gotten a flicker of enjoyment from embarrassing his ever-so-serious little sister. After the fact. In the moment, it had been pure impulse.
He knew women held grudges like no one else, but Tanya truly went above and beyond for a very petty reason.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Uh... Shirou? Is that a grey hair?" Missy asked.
Emiya blinked. "What?"
Tanya's gaze snapped toward him like a turret locking on. She stood, seized his collar, and forced him to lean down with all the force of her ersatz Reinforcement.
"Where?" she demanded, combing his hair aggressively.
"On the other side, underneath," Missy helpfully supplied.
"There it is," she said, grabbing a lock—painfully. "It's not just one hair or two..."
"Tanya—" he started, trying to pry her fingers off.
"Stay still," she commanded. "Is it premature graying?"
"Nah," Dennis said. "Too white. Unless it's been there a while, he'd go blond first."
"Why would he go blond?" Missy asked.
"Gingers get progressively more Aryan with age," Dennis quipped. "My grandpa got invited to an Empire meeting once. Back when they handed out pamphlets on corners. Back in Allfather's days they handed out pamphlets on the street. Concerned Citizens Society or something."
"Did he go?" Chris snorted.
"Grandpa was more of a Maquis guy."
"Seriously?"
"He couldn't tell a cape from a dog, but the Boneboy always took one over the Nazis, so…" Dennis shrugged.
Meanwhile, Emiya managed to pry his sisters hand off his head.
"Could it be from stress…?" she murmured, scrutinizing his face. "Are you sleeping enough? Maybe we should get you pulled off patrols."
"I'm perfectly fine," he said, waving her off.
"Grey hairs can be a sign of any number of issues."
How was he supposed to explain that it was just magecraft? Channeling large quantities of magical energy through the body sometimes did that. He'd been using a lot of Reinforcement lately, not to mention projecting Noble Phantasms.
Although, it was happening a bit faster this time. It took him years to start losing pigmentation on his head.
He examined his skin for any change of color. There wasn't any, but come to think about it, his clothes started getting tighter recently and tugged during training.
It could be that Emiya was simply building muscle and experiencing a growth spurt, but perhaps...
The Soul influenced the Body. It was a simple fact for everyone, but it had implications in his case. Putting a fully matured soul with solidified self-perception into a body of an infant? It wasn't a coincidence Emiya looked exactly as he'd been in his life.
But more than that, he was an Incarnated Spirit in possession of Saint Graph. His soul simply had more weight than average. Living or not, Emiya retained not only his memory and magecraft, but some qualities innate to spiritual existences as well.
So it could be that the more he used his circuits, the more his Saint Graph pushed against his corporeal shell, trying to bring it in coherence with the recorded template. They did, after all, run through his soul as much as his body.
Granted, it should have happened sooner, but Emiya had been more active with magecraft recently.
Good news, in his opinion, but now Tanya was needlessly worried and he knew how stubborn she could be.
Now how to tackle this?
"I think I know the cause," he said with a put-upon sigh of defeat.
"You do?"
"Yes," he declared somberly. "I didn't want to believe it, but... it is as I feared."
Everyone leaned in closer in anticipation and worry.
"Tanya," he looked her directly in the eye. "Over the last week, you've been sucking the life out of me. At first, I thought it was metaphorical. But after yesterday's lecture I've aged decades. Please stop."
It worked. Tanya's teeth gnashed in that familiar cadence of annoyance. Before she could unleash a tirade, Emiya raised a calming hand. "I'd tell you if something were wrong. Trust me," he added with his most disarming smile.
After a moment, Tanya huffed in resignation. "Fine. If you feel well enough to joke, I suppose there's no reason to panic. I do hope you appreciate my trust, brother."
His smile faded into a self-satisfied smirk, though not before he turned his back.
And Tanya thought he was bad at public relations.
A/N
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