Chapter 27: The Queen's Counsel
Night had fallen over the Emiya Residence with its cloak of silence and stars, but Shirou couldn't sleep.
It wasn't his arm. Well, not just his arm. The dull ache of the cast and the tension of his immobilized muscles contributed, yes, but the real culprit for his insomnia was much deeper. It was a well of images, of visions, of that purple gaze he couldn't get out of his head.
He lay on his futon, staring at the ceiling with open eyes, while the memories of the day swirled in his mind like leaves in a storm.
'Sakura.'
Her name was both a wound and a caress. Every time he thought of her, of her shy smile when she tasted the cream bun, of the way her eyes lit up when he said something funny, of the way her hands clasped in front of her as if trying to hold onto themselves… each of those memories was a small treasure he cherished in his chest.
But alongside them, like an elongated shadow, came the visions.
The little girl being handed over by her father. The little girl being pushed into the pit. The teenager being defiled by endless worms. Those eyes, those same purple eyes that today had sparkled with a flicker of life, empty and dead in a nightmare basement.
'Zouken Matou.'
The old man's name slithered through his mind like one of his own worms, leaving a trail of bile and hatred. Shirou clenched his teeth, his good hand gripping the blanket with a force that whitened his knuckles.
What could he do? What could a twelve-year-old boy with a broken arm, a handful of half-learned magic lessons, and an Origin that seemed determined to sabotage everything do? Zouken Matou was an ancestral magus, a being who had survived centuries, who controlled a bloodline who knew how many centuries old, and who held Sakura in his power in ways Shirou couldn't even imagine.
'And I'm nothing. I'm not strong. I don't know anything. I can't save her.'
The helplessness twisted his stomach, turning into a dull, self-destructive rage. Rage against Zouken, yes, but also against himself. Against his weakness. Against his insufficiency. Against that damned broken arm that wouldn't even let him move freely.
'If only I could do something. If only I could enter that mansion and take her out of there. If only…'
— Have the worms you're muttering about crawled into your brain and are devouring your neurons, or has my Wandering Star decided to adopt the position of a corpse for sheer fun?
The voice, clear and mocking, cut through the darkness of his room like a golden knife. Shirou sat up with a start, his heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, and saw Gilgamesh leaning against the doorframe.
She wore a casual but evidently expensive outfit, and in one hand she held a wine glass as always. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the faint moonlight filtering through the window. Behind her, from the living room, came the faint bluish glow of a state-of-the-art television.
— G-Gil?— Shirou stammered, still recovering from the fright.— What are you doing awake?
— The question, little one, is what are YOU doing awake, writhing on your straw mattress like a worm on a hook.— Gilgamesh moved away from the frame and entered the room without asking permission, as was her custom. She sat cross-legged on the edge of the futon with an elegance that made the humble act seem like a royal audience.— I've been listening to your dramatic sighs from the living room for two hours. It completely ruined my documentary on invertebrates.
Shirou blinked. Of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them.
— Documentary on invertebrates?
— Fascinating,— Said Gilgamesh, with a gleam in her eyes that wasn't precisely scientific.— Those creatures, so simple, so primitive, and yet so resistant. Some can survive the amputation of entire parts of their bodies. Others secrete venoms that paralyze their prey. There's a species, Eristalis tenax, whose larvae live in stagnant, putrid waters, breathing through a tube that looks like a demonic appendage.— She paused, savoring the words.— They reminded me of certain magi I know.
Shirou felt a chill. He couldn't help his mind associating Gilgamesh's words with the visions of Sakura in that pit. His stomach lurched.
— But let's leave the bugs aside,— Gilgamesh continued, observing him with those scarlet eyes that seemed to see everything.— Talk to me. What cloud of stupor dims the shine of my favorite star?
Shirou hesitated. Kiritsugu was gone. Taiga was asleep at her own house, oblivious to everything. Rin… Rin couldn't help him with this, not without revealing too much, not without exposing Sakura to more danger. Gilgamesh was, despite her insufferable arrogance, the only person he could trust.
— Today…— He began, his voice hesitant.— I met someone.
— Someone?— Gilgamesh's eyebrow arched with interest.— From your beaten-dog expression, it's not just anyone. A girl?
Shirou nodded.
— Interesting. Continue.
And Shirou did. He told her everything: how he had gone to school early because his arm wouldn't let him sleep, how he had ended up in the music room on impulse, how he had played the piano without thinking. He told her that when he finished, when he turned, he had seen Sakura there, in the doorway, with tears in her eyes. And he told her what happened next: the tsunami of visions, the images of that same girl being tortured, violated, destroyed by her own family.
— When I looked at her,— He said, his voice breaking.— I saw it all. Her father giving her away. Her brother… doing things to her. The old man, Zouken Matou, pushing her into a pit full of… of worms. And her… her at the end, with empty eyes, as if nothing was left…
The silence that followed was dense. Gilgamesh watched him with an expression Shirou couldn't decipher: it wasn't mockery, nor compassion, not even disdain. It was something more complex. Something that perhaps only a queen could feel when contemplating the suffering of a subject.
— Your "clairvoyance,"— She said finally.— Your father told me about it before he left. The ability to see fragments of possible futures.— Her fingers drummed on the wine glass.— It's a strange gift for a human of this era. Divination generally requires divine intervention, complex Mystic Codes, or an innate affinity that you, from what I've seen, do not possess. If it weren't for the fact that you're my Wandering Star, I would never believe such nonsense.
Shirou looked at her, confused.
— You mean…?
— I mean that what you see is real,— Gilgamesh interrupted.— Or at least, real in the sense that they are possibilities anchored in the present. Those futures exist, latent, waiting for the right conditions to manifest. But other futures also exist. And you, little star, have the power to choose which one you want to make reality.
— But I don't have the strength…
— Sit down.
The command was so sudden that Shirou obeyed before thinking. Gilgamesh stood up and walked to the door, making an imperious gesture for him to follow. Shirou obeyed, confused, and followed her to the living room.
The flat-screen television Gilgamesh had bought— replacing the old bulky set that had been a gift from Taiga— was showing precisely the documentary she had mentioned. On the screen, a grotesque close-up of worms writhing on a decomposing corpse filled the room with its nauseating image.
Shirou felt bile rise to his throat.
— Sit next to me,— Gilgamesh ordered, settling onto the sofa.
Shirou obeyed, though every fiber of his being wanted to look away from that screen. He sat beside her, rigid, uncomfortable.
— Tell me,— Said Gilgamesh, without taking her eyes off the documentary.— What do you want from me? What advice do you seek?
Shirou looked at her. The answer was in his mind, clear and terrifying.
— I don't know what to do,— He admitted.— I want to save her. I want to get her out of there, out of that pit, out of that mansion, out of the clutches of that monster. But I can't. With my current strength, with what I know, with what I am…— He shook his head, frustrated.— If I try anything, Zouken Matou will kill me. Or worse, turn me into a puppet. And then she… she'll be stuck there forever, and I will have achieved nothing.
Gilgamesh was silent for a long moment. On the screen, the worms continued their macabre dance.
— That disgusting worm,— She said at last, and her voice was pure contempt.— Zouken Matou. I've heard of him. A walking corpse clinging to existence with the tenacity of a cockroach. He's not a magus, he's a parasite. A tumor with pretensions of grandeur.
Shirou looked at her, surprised by the ferocity of her words.
— But…— Gilgamesh continued, and her scarlet eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made him hold his breath.— don't expect me to intervene directly. I won't.
Shirou's heart sank.
— Why?
— Because I am your teacher, little star, not your savior.— Gilgamesh leaned back on the sofa, adopting the pose of a queen on her throne.— My purpose is to see you grow, to see you overcome obstacles, to see you become something worthy of my attention. If I solved all your problems for you, you would be nothing more than a pet. And I don't collect pets.
Shirou's frustration threatened to overflow. His hands trembled, his jaw was so tight it hurt. Gilgamesh watched him, and in her eyes, for an instant, appeared something that could be… compassion?
— But,— She said, and the word hung in the air like a promise.— That doesn't mean I have nothing to tell you.
Shirou looked at her, hopeful despite himself.
— Zouken Matou, with the means you currently have, is not completely invincible.
The statement fell like a bomb.
— W-what?
— I do not recommend in the least that you confront him directly,— Gilgamesh clarified, raising a finger.— It would be suicide. But you have something he doesn't have, something not even he can counteract.
— What?
— Her.
Shirou blinked, confused.
— Your little friend, Sakura,— Gilgamesh explained.— Focus on her.
— But… how does that help?
Gilgamesh smiled, and it was a smile that wasn't a smile, an expression of pure and absolute certainty.
— Haven't you noticed, little one? Haven't you felt something strange when you're with her?
Shirou thought about the day. About how, despite everything, despite the horrible visions, it had been… good. Warm. Different.
— The worms,— He said suddenly, and the pieces began to fall into place.— When I'm with her, the worms…
— Quiet,— Gilgamesh completed.— They hide. They try to go unnoticed. As if you were a predator and they, the prey.
Shirou looked at her, astonished.
— How do you know that?
— Because I've seen it in your eyes since you came back. Because I know that look. It's the same one I had when I contemplated something worth protecting.— She paused.— Your mere presence, Shirou Emiya, is more powerful against those worms than any spell could be. You are like a beacon of purifying light that repels shadows and undoes corruption. Matou's Crest Worms perceive you as a threat. A threat they cannot face. And as long as you are near her, as long as she feels your warmth, your light… the worms will lose influence over her body and soul.
Shirou felt his heart pound. Was it possible? So simple?
— It's not simple,— Said Gilgamesh, as if reading his mind.— It will require time and patience. It will require you to be there for her again and again, even if she tries to push you away, even if she believes she doesn't deserve it. It will require you to hold her when she breaks, to pick her up when she falls, to love her when she herself is incapable of loving herself.— Her voice softened, just a little.— And when, finally, the worms have lost all their power over her… then, and only then, can you deliver the final blow to that disgusting worm. Because without her as an anchor, without her body as a vessel, Zouken Matou will be nothing more than a decrepit old man at death's door. And you, my Wandering Star, can close the door forever.
The silence that followed was enormous. Shirou looked at Gilgamesh, and for the first time, behind all that arrogance, behind that perpetual disdain, he saw something more. He saw someone who had decided, in her own twisted way, to help him.
— Thank you,— He whispered.
Gilgamesh snorted.
— Don't thank me. I've only told you what any king would know. Now, if you've finished with your existential crisis, go to sleep. The documentary has gotten really interesting.— She pointed at the screen, where the worms were being devoured by a larger creature.— Look, the circle of life. Even parasites have predators.
Shirou smiled, despite everything. He stood up, but before leaving, he turned.
— Gil.
— What?
— Her name is Sakura. Sakura Matou. And when I save her… would you like to meet her?
Gilgamesh looked at him for a long time. Then, her lips curved into a smile that was pure amusement.
— Perhaps. If she manages to be as interesting as you promise, I might grant her an audience. And perhaps allow her to stand beside MY Wandering Star.— She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.— Now go. I need to concentrate on how these creatures manage to survive without a spine. It's truly inspiring.
Shirou returned to his room. For the first time in hours, his mind wasn't full of images of suffering and despair. There was a plan. A path. A direction.
It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be fast. But there was hope.
And as he lay down, as sleep began to overcome him, Shirou Emiya smiled.
'Tomorrow,' He thought. 'Tomorrow I'll see her again. And I'll start saving her.'
In the living room, Gilgamesh watched the final minutes of her documentary with a smile that wasn't for the creatures on the screen.
— Sakura Matou,— she murmured to herself, savoring the name.— Interesting. Very interesting. This spectacle improves by the moment.
She turned off the television with a gesture and stood up. The night was young, and she had centuries of experience in waiting for interesting things to happen.
But for the first time in a long while, waiting didn't seem like a burden. It was a pleasure. The pleasure of watching her Wandering Star shine a little brighter each day.
And that, she thought as she retired to her room, was a spectacle worthy of a king.
* * *
"Eristalis tenax": The Eristalis tenax, commonly known as the drone fly, is a species of dipteran from the Syrphidae family that stands out for its astonishing Batesian mimicry, as it possesses a physical appearance and flight behavior very similar to that of a honeybee to deter predators. Unlike bees, it lacks a stinger and has only one pair of functional wings; furthermore, it plays a fundamental ecological role as a generalist pollinator of various plants and crops. In its larval stage, it is known as a "rat-tailed larva" due to a long, siphon-like breathing tube that allows it to survive in stagnant water or with high levels of decomposing organic matter.