We were halfway through the mountain of desserts when I finally asked the question lingering at the back of my mind.
"Sakura," I said, brushing powdered cocoa off of my fingers, "do you plan on going back to the Matou residence after school?"
Her hands paused mid-bite. Silence settled between us for a beat too long.
Then she looked up, eyes clearer than they had any right to be after what she'd been through. "No," she said softly. "I'm not going back."
There was no flinch or hesitation in her voice. I only sensed quiet certainty.
"I see." I leaned back, a flicker of pride blooming in my chest. Saving her first was the right call. "Where will you go?"
"I… was thinking of asking Tohsaka-san."
Oh? That wasn't a response I expected. "Rin Tohsaka?"
Sakura glanced down at her hands, fidgeting slightly. "Yes. We're sisters, after all, even when we haven't treated each other as such since I was adopted by—" She paused, her brows forming a frown for a moment before she shook her head. "She might not turn me away if I explain my situation. But if not… m-maybe the Emiya residence. If Shirou-senpai and Fujimura-sensei would allow it."
"And if those people also say no?"
"Then I'll figure something out," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "But I'm never going back there. Not now. Not after knowing what it's like to be free."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, but what was I even nervous for?
"Good. That place is a coffin. And you were buried alive in it."
She didn't deny my words.
The school bell rang. She flinched in surprise, then offered a small, regretful smile. "Ah… It seems I have to go now, Kayden-san."
As she stood to leave, I summoned a necklace with a magnetic lock, its pendant shaped into the Deathly Hallows symbol. Clenching it in my fist, I layered it with charms—protection, teleportation, and detection primarily. Gold light flared as Nabu's power seeped into the metal, amplifying the charms' effects.
"Matou-san, wait. Take this."
Sakura's steady hands accepted it. "What is it?"
"It's for emergencies and a way to contact me. Hold it, call my name, and I'll be there before the echo of your voice fades. And if anyone tries to harm you, that necklace will form a shield and inform me of the attack. Also," I leaned forward, my voice dropping, "don't forget that the Holy Grail War is near. If you sense anything at all—magic, danger, even a bad feeling—use it. Don't hesitate."
She clasped it around her neck, the symbol resting against her collarbone before she clutched it in her hands, knuckles white. "Thank you, Kayden-san." She looked up at me, misty eyes locking with mine. For a heartbeat, she hesitated before giving a radiant smile.
Her smile stunned me, leaving me speechless for a moment. "…You're welcome, Ma-"
"You can call me Sakura. I won't mind," she said abruptly, surprising me. Her smile turned shy. "And if it's alright… may I call you Kayden?"
I blinked, taken aback. Well, that was direct. But I wasn't complaining. It was just... unexpected. "Of course. If that's what you want."
She nodded firmly. "I do. And... thank you again. For saving me. For freeing me."
"I'd say it was the least I could do, but... it really wasn't." I chuckled, a little sheepish.
She giggled—soft and real—and for a second, the heavy trauma of her past didn't shadow her smile.
"Ah. By the way, may I know how old you are?" she asked.
Now she was asking for my age. Where was she going with this?
"I'm 17."
"I see… It seems I guessed right."
As the school bell rang in the distance, she stood, bowing politely. "Ah, I really must go now. Then I'll be off, Kayden-senpai."
…Senpai?
I watched her walk away, steps lighter than I had ever imagined possible. She only moved forward, into the sunlit world that had always been denied to her.
On a whim, I cupped my hands around my mouth as she opened the door. "Sakura!" She paused and turned her head. "If your living situation doesn't get resolved, call for me using the necklace."
Her brows lifted in surprise before she nodded, smiling. The door clicked shut.
"'Kayden-senpai', huh?" I murmured, chuckling and shaking my head in disbelief. "Being called that actually feels kinda nice…"
With Sakura's decision made and her path now her own, I began cleaning up, vanishing the conjured furniture, storing the summoned food, and removing the charms I had placed.
It was time for me to go somewhere else. I hadn't planned on doing this, but I wasn't one to leave loose ends. The warmth of Nabu's presence pulsed within me, a silent drumroll.
It was time to burn down the past.
—x—
Apparition tore through space, depositing me right in front of the Matou residence. Tall walls and an imposing black gate blocked my way. But the real security system was the Bounded Field surrounding the place. I didn't know what it would do to me if I passed it with ill intent, but I wasn't planning on finding out.
A white bolt of magical energy lanced from my hand, striking the invisible Bounded Field. With a shimmering flicker, the barrier manifested—a faint, rippling distortion in the air—only to begin melting from where my magic struck. That spell was basically a focused beam of barrier-destroying fire, and the Bounded Field was a paper screen.
With nothing else blocking me, I made my way inside after unlocking the gate with a quick Alohamora (Unlocking Charm). The gate produced a high-pitched whine and clang as I closed it.
The Matou estate had dense shrubbery and multiple trees surrounding a grand, two-story manor, like the kind you would see in horror movies. The Matou Manor was a decaying, traditional Western building, its once grand facade now withered and overgrown, reflecting the family's decline. But beneath its surface, hidden tunnels and a horrific basement filled with grotesque Crest Worms served as a living, squirming testament to Zouken Matou's dark magecraft and the unspeakable suffering inflicted within its walls.
"I'm getting tons of bad vibes just by standing here," I said to myself as I rubbed my arms. Not even the abandoned buildings I've explored before were this bad.
After walking through the dense shrubbery along the right side of the manor gate, I found a cellar door on the ground with an old-school ring handle.
"There you are."
I opened the cellar door with telekinesis—no way was I touching that handle—and descended the flight of stairs. The Elder Ring flared with brilliant light, pushing back the almost pitch-black gloom. With every step down, the faint chirring of insects grew louder, escalating from a whisper to a chilling, omnipresent hum that vibrated in my bones.
When I finally reached the bottom of the stairs, shivers went down my spine. My skin prickled from the wrongness humming in the air.
The basement was a living, pulsating nightmare. It was an enormous room, a seething abyss of flesh and chitin, where the very air hung heavy with a sickening, musky odor. A blend of stagnant water, decay, and something indescribably organic and vile.
The walls, floor, and even the high, oppressive ceiling were crawling, writhing tapestries of pale, segmented worms. They were grotesque, fleshy parasites, some no thicker than a finger, others like bloated, pale pythons. All of them glistened with a thin, repulsive film of mucus. Their myriad mouths, often obscured, seem to suck and squirm, creating a chilling, ceaseless skittering and slithering sound, a pervasive whisper that scraped my ears.
In places, the worms formed pulsating mounds and undulating carpets, shifting with a horrifying, fluid motion. Crawling among this living mass and on the walls were massive Crest Worms. Gigantic, spider-like, and worst of all, each one was the size of a car.
The single light source in the ceiling—a bare, flickering bulb—casted long, dancing shadows that made the writhing mass seem even more alive. It was an unholy, horrid place, designed to be the breeding grounds of Crest Worms and to strip away all dignity and humanity from those unfortunate enough to be confined within its squirming depths.
All this time, this was what Zouken threw Sakura into for more than a decade? This… This was even worse than I imagined it to be.
This was where a six-years-old Sakura screamed and cried for three days.
This was Zouken's and the Matou family's so-called "legacy".
Nabu's presence flared within me—not as a whisper, but a roar. The Lord of Order recoiled at this perversion. The Elder Ring burned cold on my finger, resonating with the Nabu's fury and my own.
Brilliant white light exploded outward from my hand, searing shadows from the cavernous pit. Hundreds of Crest Worms recoiled and screeched, their grey bodies glistening like spilled oil. I began levitating, placing myself in the center of this accursed place.
There would be no subtlety. There would be no mercy.
"This place is a disease," I whispered. "Let it burn."
Face contorting in icy rage, I raised my hand, palm facing the writhing abyss. This demanded purification by incineration.
"Fiendfyre."
The spell left my lips, amplified by the Elder Ring and layered with the Lord of Order's magic force.
The basement screamed.
Not with sound, but with pressure. The air itself ignited. From my palm erupted not mere fire, but a dragon of cursed blue flame—molten hatred given form. Heat warped the stone walls instantly, turning damp moss to ash.
Where the dragon's breath touched, segmented flesh dissolved into vapor. The spider-worms shrieked silently, carapaces bubbling like wax before bursting into greenish steam. Mounds of young Crest Worms withered into carbon dust mid-writhe. The flames unmade their very essence, scouring Zouken's corruption from reality itself.
The Elder Ring made the flames destruction incarnate.
Nabu's power purified everything it touched—a contained inferno that devoured only the tainted life and all traces of it.
My will guided it.
"Burn the rot until there's nothing left."
Hearing my command, the dragon surged forward as a tidal wave of annihilation. It filled the pit, bursting like a water balloon. The wave of fire crashed into the ceiling, reducing the remaining monstrous spider-worms and their larvae to silhouettes of ash. The wet skittering became the hiss of evaporating slime, then silence.
I clenched my fist. The dragon reformed, coiled, compressing its fury into the pit. The stone there vitrified, superheated into seamless black glass by the inferno's focused rage. A tomb marker forged in hellfire.
Thirty seconds had passed.
The flames died.
Nothing but silence was left. Utter, profound silence.
Where thousands of worms had once writhed and skittered, only smooth, scorched stone and a central disc of obsidian glass remained. Steam rose from the cooled surfaces. The stench was gone, replaced by the ozone tang of purified air. The ceiling bulb flickered once, then went dark, its purpose served.
I lowered my hand. The Elder Ring's glow faded. Nabu's presence settled, satisfied.
The rot was purged.
I landed on the ground, turned, and climbed the stairs without looking back. Behind me, the cellar door slammed shut with a final thud. I placed at least a dozen charms and jinxes before I left, sealing this entrance to the tomb. No one would ever open or go near that cellar again.
But I wasn't quite done.
To my knowledge, there was a second entrance inside the Matou manor itself. I kicked down the expensive-looking, wooden front door of the manor and found the hidden passageway near the living room, hidden by a weak Bounded Field. After removing the Bounded Field, a wide opening in the wall was all that was left.
I raised my hand, clenching it as if I were crushing something in my grasp. The tunnel trembled before collapsing, rubble and stone forming a complete blockade. I continued, layering it with spells like the ones I applied to the cellar.
Only then was I satisfied.
When I stepped outside, the house looked the same. But it wasn't. It would never be the same again.
I rose to the rooftop through levitation, overlooking the Matou residence as sunlight filtered through the clouds. Sakura's old prison stood quiet, still, forgotten—but powerless. The Matou legacy was finally broken, and the Heaven's Feel route was no more.
After taking one last look at the house, I apparated back to Homurahara. This first quest of mine took longer than I thought, but how long it took didn't matter to me. This one was just personal.
Since Sakura was no longer in immediate danger and the Crest Worms had been eradicated, there was only one person left in the Matou family to take care of. Zouken was an abhorrent, parasitic entity I couldn't leave alive, but Shinji?
Death would be mercy. I'd rather have fun tormenting the guy first before deciding what to do with him.
—x—
Shinji's POV - Homurahara Academy
Confusion, anger, and fear curdled in Shinji's gut like spoiled milk.
What the hell happened earlier?
One moment, he'd been grinding his pen into his calculus test, the next… his hand had moved on its own. Thrown a pen at Tanaka-sensei. Crumpled Ryuudou's test. And that drawing…
He shuddered, bile rising in his throat as he stormed down the hallway. Students parted around him like he was radioactive. Whispers trailed in his wake.
"Did you see…?"
"...had a total meltdown…"
"...drawing a dick?"
It wasn't me! He wanted to scream. But the memory of Shirou's earnest, pitying face—"There's nothing wrong with liking men, Shinji."—made his teeth ache with humiliation. His face burned. He needed to get out of these stupid indoor shoes and leave.
He knelt at his assigned shoe locker in the entranceway, back to the milling students heading home. Just a freak nerve thing. Stress, he told himself, fumbling with the stiff latch.
He finally got the locker open, threw his duffel bag out and grabbed his outdoor shoes, and bent down to untie his indoor ones. As he leaned forward, focused on the laces... a sound like tearing canvas echoed loudly in the tiled area. Sudden, shocking cold hit his legs and backside.
A wave of silence crashed over the shoe locker area, followed instantly by choked gasps and poorly suppressed snorts.
Shinji slowly straightened, dread pooling in his stomach. Slowly, agonizingly, he stood straight and reached behind him. As soon as he felt the hole in his trousers, he pulled at his pants so he could have a better look.
His school trousers were ripped at the back, leaving a large gaping hole. And his underwear… His plain, white cotton boxers were gone. In their place were blindingly bright electric pink boxers covered in tiny, smiling yellow ducks for the entire crowd to see.
What?! His brain short-circuited. These aren't mine! I wore the plain ones! I know I did!
"N-Nice shorts, Matou!" someone yelled.
"Ducks?! Seriously?"
"Pfft—HA!"
Shinji yelped, scrambling to cover his backside, face crimson.
"Shut up! It was a seam! A bad seam!" he bellowed, fingers fumbling desperately with the two sides of the ripped area. But the hole was too wide. How?! When?!
Laughter continued to erupt. The sharp, echoing sound of pure, unadulterated mockery bouncing off the tiles. Heads turned. People pointed. Faces contorted with mirth.
Shinji finally managed to cover the hole by taking off his school uniform and wrapping it around his waist, but he was trembling with pure humiliation. He spun around, ready to snarl at the obnoxious laughter behind him. Kaede Makidera, who was pointing at him, had tears of mirth streaming down her face. His fellow Archery Club member's laughter was loud and infectious.
"M-Matou! Planning a trip to the kiddie pool?" she wheezed, setting off another wave of giggles around her.
Shinji took a furious step towards her, finger jabbing. "Shut up, you loudmouth—!"
His leading foot hooked on absolutely nothing. With a startled squawk, he pitched forward. Arms windmilling wildly, he crashed into Kaede and her friend, sending a tangle of limbs, school bags, and Shinji's own newly vulnerable gym duffel spilling open across the floor. His outdoor shoe flew off and bonked Ayako Mitsuzuri, who had just arrived, squarely on the forehead.
"Gyah! Get off, you perv!" Kaede yelled, shoving him away.
Ayako rubbed her forehead, glaring, while her friend stared in horrified fascination at Shinji's scattered belongings. Textbooks, a half-eaten melon pan, and… his actual, plain white boxers, inexplicably balled up near his gym socks.
What? They were in my bag this whole time?! Then how—?!
The smiling ducks felt like they were burning his skin.
"I… I didn't…!" Shinji stammered, pushing himself up. He glared at the spotless floor where he'd tripped. Impossible!
"Matou."
The voice cut through the air like a blade of ice. Kuzuki-sensei stood framed in the doorway to the main hall, having witnessed the entire humiliating spectacle. His expression was flatter than ever, but his eyes held a depth of weary disappointment that made Shinji shrivel inside.
"My office. Now." Kuzuki's gaze swept over Shinji, the hastily tied jacket around the waist, the scattered belongings, and the shoe near Ayako's feet. "And bring all your possessions."
Shinji scrambled to obey, face burning hotter than the sun. As he knelt to gather his things, his pen, resting innocently on his calculus notebook, suddenly exploded when he picked it up. Black ink sprayed across his face, his plain white shirt, and the pristine white pages of his homework.
Shinji froze, dripping blank ink. The laughter reached a hysterical crescendo. Someone was actually rolling on the floor.
"Oh, come on! Seriously?!" he shrieked, wiping futilely at his face, only smearing the ink further. He looked like a demented raccoon.
Kuzuki-sensei simply took a slow, deep breath that seemed to draw the soul out of the room, and turned towards his office. "The pen too, Matou. And… try not to touch anything else on the way."
As Shinji stumbled after Kuzuki, trailing ink, clutching his ruined notebook, his duffel spilling socks, and with the ducks now feeling like a brand of shame, one desperate, furious thought echoed in his mind.
Who did this? Why? How? And why ducks?!
The walk to Kuzuki's office was a gauntlet of smirks and underwear-related whispers. Shinji clutched his ink-splattered notebook, the cheerful ducks a constant, humiliating presence under his belt. Kuzuki's silence was worse than the whispers.
Inside the sparse office, Kuzuki sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers. "Explain the sequence of events, Matou. Beginning with the classroom incident."
"It wasn't me!" Shinji blurted, slamming the ruined notebook and exploded pen onto the desk. Ink smeared the wood. "Someone's messing with me! The pen throw, the test, the... drawing... then the trousers, the trip, the ink! And these!" He brandished the balled-up white boxers. "I wore these! I don't even own duck underwear! Someone switched them! This has to be sabotage!"
Kuzuki regarded the offered boxers with the same detached interest one might show a peculiar insect. "Sabotage," he repeated flatly. "By whom? And with what evidence?"
Shinji floundered. "I... I don't know who! But how else? The seam tore perfectly! I tripped on nothing! The pen exploded! And the boxers! They were somehow in my bag! It's impossible!"
"Coincidence, defective materials, and personal negligence are more plausible than a targeted conspiracy involving... whimsical undergarments," Kuzuki stated, his voice devoid of inflection. "Tanaka-sensei demands a formal apology for the pen incident and a two-thousand-character reflection essay on classroom decorum. Due Tomorrow."
Shinji gaped. "But—!"
"Additionally," Kuzuki continued, cutting him off, "the disruptive actions you performed during the examination are unacceptable. Sabotaging Ryuudou's test and causing a disturbance in class during an exam warrant disciplinary labor. You will remain after school today. You will clean this classroom, corridor C, and the entrance shoe locker area. I will supervise."
"Clean? Like a janitor?!" Shinji's voice rose in outrage. "For how long?!"
"Until the tasks are completed to my satisfaction. Or 7 PM. Whichever comes first." Kuzuki's gaze was implacable. "Begin now. If you don't know where the supplies are, I can guide you."
Shinji's protest died on his lips under that cold stare. Jaw clenched, face burning with resentment, he snatched the bucket and mop from a nearby closet. Fine, I'll clean. How hard could it be? Then I'm out of this cursed place.
—x—
Inside his classroom, Shinji aggressively wiped Tanaka-sensei's desk. The spray bottle, set to "mist," suddenly gushed like a firehose, drenching the graded test papers stacked neatly on the corner.
"Damn it!"
Kuzuki, grading at a desk in the corner, looked up slowly as Shinji frantically tried to clean the wet mess.
"Clumsy, Matou."
—x—
In Corridor C, Shinji pushed a heavy, water-filled bucket. One wheel locked solid without warning. Thinking it simply needed a push, he shoved harder and the bucket tipped spectacularly, sending a tidal wave of grey, soapy water cascading down the hallway. Shinji tried to pick the bucket up and slipped on the slippery surface, landing flat on his back. Kuzuki appears at the classroom door.
"Mop that up."
Shinji swore the corner of the perpetually stoic teacher's mouth twitched. It definitely did!
—x—
At the entrance near the shoe lockers, Shinji was on his knees, scrubbing the ink-stained floor where his "accident" took place. The wet mop he leaned against the wall earlier slowly and silently slid sideways, its head planting itself firmly in the middle of the puddle Shinji just cleaned, soaking the area with dirty water.
He growled in frustration when he finally noticed it.
—x—
Shinji gathered overflowing bins. But as he lifted one, the bottom detached completely, spilling all kinds of garbage, including crumpled papers, apple cores, and a suspiciously sticky juice box, directly onto the freshly mopped floor.
Kuzuki popped up from the doorway, seemingly attracted by the sounds made. "Matou. You're supposed to contain the refuse."
The veins around Shinji's head popped and were close to bursting.
—x—
Determined to succeed without mistakes this time, Shinji carefully sprayed cleaner on the large entrance window. He brought the squeegee down in a smooth stroke. But instead of clearing the liquid, it smeared it into a thick, opaque, greasy film worse than before.
He tried again, and the squeegee snapped in half at the handle. Shinji stared at the broken plastic, then at his reflection in the greasy mess—ink-stained, hair sticking up, eyes wild.
He looked utterly deranged.
—x—
Shinji was at his last straw.
He swept the last bits of debris near the shoe lockers. He leaned the broom against the wall, exhausted by the constant misfortune. It remained upright for a full three seconds. With agonizing slowness, it pivoted and fell, its handle clattering against every single metal locker door down the row in a deafening, rhythmic CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! like a deranged bell tower.
Shinji couldn't even tell what kind of face he was making anymore.
Kuzuki checked his watch. "6:44 PM. You are dismissed, Matou. But return all the cleaning equipment to the appropriate storage locations before you leave. Your performance was... instructive. Ensure the reflection essay is on Tanaka-sensei's desk tomorrow morning."
He turned and walked back into the school building, leaving Shinji alone amidst the tools of his humiliation, the echoing clang of the broom still ringing in his mind. He stood still as rain began to drum against the windows. Outside, streetlights illuminated the dark street, their glow reflecting in the puddles spreading across the empty courtyard. The rhythmic plink-plink of raindrops punctuated his ragged breathing.
He kicked the broom, the clatter echoing in the halls.
"AAAHHH!"
The rain swallowed his scream. Shinji stood trembling, fists clenched, staring at the fallen broom. A strangled sound escaped him, part sob, part scream of pure, impotent rage.
I'll find whoever is doing this to me! When I catch them, I'll toss them into the worm pit and watch them suffer!
—x—
Kayden's POV - Rooftop Overlooking the School
Perched invisibly on the school roof, I lowered the scrying orb, tears of laughter streaming down my face. The rain fell harmlessly against an invisible dome around me. For the past few hours, I had watched the entire glorious disaster unfold—the geyser desk, the tsunami bucket, the suicidal mop, the exploding trash, the greasy window, and the piece de resistance: the broom performing a one-man percussion solo.
"Oh... oh god..." I wheezed, clutching my sides. "The broom! The look on his face! Absolutely priceless!" I gasped for air, my shoulders shaking.
To celebrate, I summoned a hefty shawarma wrap—lamb, beef, extra garlic sauce and barbeque sauce, the works. I took a huge, triumphant bite, still chuckling.
"Ha-Ha-HURK—!"
Laughter met half-chewed shawarma in my windpipe. My eyes bulged. I clutched my throat, making frantic, silent gagging motions as I doubled over on the rooftop. I didn't need to breathe anymore, but having something stuck in my throat was still incredibly uncomfortable. The sound of my desperate, muffled choking replaced the rain's dull pitter-patter.
Karma, a tiny, amused part of my mind supplied, even as I thumped my chest.
"Worth... every... duck... hurk!"
---
A/N: Quick questions. Should I add images for the characters and the stuff Kayden pulls out of the Inventory? And should I add an auxiliary chapter for the characters specifically?
Also, let's be honest. If you've seen the Heaven's Feel movie or played the Visual Novel, incinerating Zouken's worm pit was therapy. Ruining Shinji's day was dessert. Sakura calling Kayden "senpai"? That was the cherry on top. Enjoy the schadenfreude, folks.
PSA: No brooms or boxers were harmed in this chapter. Shinji's dignity, however, is in critical condition. Send thoughts. Or ducks. Or Power Stones (this chapter will get the word count to above 15k, which means it could show up on the rankings now).