"It can't be..."
Shirou's expression changed as he recalled the morning news about the serial murders.
Without thinking, he began walking toward the schoolyard.
A murderous wind howled toward him.
Red and blue lights clashed at night, sparks flying amidst an overwhelming killing intent.
The red figure was a prematurely aged man with white hair, wielding twin blades. His swordsmanship wasn't flashy, but refined to the extreme—techniques honed through countless life-or-death battles.
The blue figure resembled a beast, holding a crimson magic spear. His thrusts fell like raindrops, like shooting stars, his movements exuding a fierce, predatory aggression.
The intensity of the battle opened Shirou's eyes to a new world.
So this is how thrilling and blood-pumping a fight between cold weapons can be.
Entranced by the spectacle, Shirou accidentally stepped on a dry branch and snapped it.
"Who's there?!"
The blue spearman immediately broke away from his opponent and glared menacingly in Shirou's direction.
That piercing gaze made Shirou instinctively flee.
The spearman, seemingly toying with him like a cat with a mouse, didn't immediately give chase. Though he could have caught Shirou in seconds, he maintained a deliberately slow pace.
Soon, the academy's complex layout caused Shirou to slip from his view.
But the spearman seemed in no hurry. To his beast-like senses, Shirou's presence was as clear as a beacon in the dark.
Panicked, Shirou stumbled into the kendo dojo.
Inside, he spotted two swords, one long and one short, resting on the central weapon rack.
Like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, Shirou rushed over and grabbed them.
Strangely, the moment his hands touched the hilts, the fear in his heart began to melt away like snow under the sun.
Ten years... Ten years of continuous training under his Sensei in the art of Niten Ichi-ryu.
I'm not the powerless person I was ten years ago!
"Cast aside all distractions. Abandon your fear of death. Empty your mind and focus on one thing—defeating the enemy before you. Nothing else matters."
His sensei advice echoed in Shirou's mind.
There's nothing left to fear.
Clang!
Ten years of relentless training kicked in as Shirou instinctively drew the twin swords, spinning around in a swift slash.
Clang!
Sparks flew as the twin blades collided perfectly with the incoming magic spear.
What should have been a certain hit had been deflected. The blue spearman, dressed in a tight-fitting bodysuit, showed a hint of surprise.
"Oh? So the saying is true—a cornered rabbit will bite. Interesting. You've piqued my interest. Let's see how long you can last, kid. Don't die too quickly now!"
The spearman grinned wickedly and lunged with his spear.
Shirou remained calm, deflecting the spear with one sword while stepping forward with the other, aiming a slash at the spearman's shoulder.
The strike was blocked by the spear's shaft, which the spearman smoothly raised to intercept.
Given his strength and speed, the spearman could have ended the fight instantly.
But he was toying with Shirou, dragging out the thrilling exchange of blows.
Cold flashes of steel and the crimson gleam of the spear illuminated the empty dojo.
The rhythmic clashing of metal echoed like a symphony.
Ten years of practice, combined with Shirou's natural talent for swordsmanship and the guidance of a top-tier master, she made him nearly unrivaled in modern kendo.
But his opponent was no ordinary warrior. The blue spearman was a legendary hero, who had survived countless battlefields.
Even without using his superhuman strength, the spearman's sheer experience and technique were enough to suppress Shirou.
The more they fought, the more Shirou felt the terrifying power within the spearman's muscular frame.
Who is this guy? He might even surpass Sensei!
There won't be another chance to win!
Faced with such a formidable opponent, Shirou's resilience ignited. His mind entered a state of heightened clarity, and time seemed to slow.
The crimson spear, once as fast as red lightning, now appeared clearly in Shirou's eyes.
I can see it!
In an instant, Shirou loosened his grip on the short sword in his left hand.
The crimson lightning struck, clashing with the short sword's blade.
Clang!
The short sword flew from Shirou's hand.
"I've got your heart!"
The blue spearman's eyes gleamed viciously as he thrust his magic spear toward Shirou's heart without hesitation.
At the brink of death, Shirou remained eerily calm.
In his mind, the spear's speed, trajectory, and force were rapidly calculated.
His body shifted ever so slightly to the side.
That tiny movement caused the spear, aimed directly at his heart, to pass under his arm, where Shirou clamped it tightly with his left arm.
"Wha—?"
Before the spearman could process his shock, Shirou stepped forward, thrusting the long sword in his right hand toward the spearman's throat.
His Sensei had always warned him not to take life lightly, but the opponent before him was not someone he could afford to show mercy to.
Yet, even at the brink of death, the blue spearman hadn't let his guard down.
How could an ordinary weapon harm a Heroic Spirit?
But as Shirou's blade neared the spearman's throat, his instincts screamed at him—if he didn't dodge, his throat would be pierced!
Even Shirou hadn't expected it, but in the heat of battle, the twin swords had been influenced by his origin, transforming from ordinary weapons into something more.
For a Heroic Spirit, a pierced throat wasn't fatal.
But it would be humiliating.
In a split second, the spearman moved at superhuman speed.
Shirou's sure-kill strike only grazed his throat, leaving a thin line of blood.
The spearman leaped backward, creating distance, and touched the wound, inspecting the blood on his fingers.
Seeing the blood, he threw his head back and laughed.
"Hahaha! Looks like I've gone soft after staying in the Throne of Heroes for too long!"
The spearman then locked his gaze on Shirou, whose eyes now reflected cold, murderous intent.
"I was just playing around, but now I'll have to get serious. Hey, kid, what's your name?"
"Musashi Shirou..."
"Good name! Remember it well—the one who kills you is me, Cú Chulainn!"
The Son of Light of Ireland lowered his stance, gripping his spear with one hand near the middle and the other near the tip, like a hound ready to pounce.
"I'm claiming your heart!"
Crimson light flashed, the spear thrusting straight for Shirou's heart.
This strike was in a different league from the previous ones.
There was no way to dodge it!
Just as the magic spear was about to pierce Shirou's heart—
A figure in a striking red-and-blue swordsman's outfit dashed in from outside the door.
Cú Chulainn's expression shifted dramatically. He immediately sensed that if he completed his thrust, the person behind him would sever his head.
He quickly withdrew his spear, blocking in front of himself while dodging to the side.
"Who are you?!"
Cú Chulainn shouted, his face dark with frustration.
What a cursed day! Twice now, just as he was about to kill his target, someone had interfered.
What he didn't know was that in the Holy Grail War, all attributes were secondary—only luck truly determined victory. And of all the participants, his chances of winning were the lowest.
The figure did not pursue him but instead stood protectively in front of Shirou, holding two swords.
"Sensei! Why are you here?"
Shirou's face showed clear surprise.
Miyamoto Musashi didn't look back, answering casually.
"I noticed you hadn't come home for a while, so I came to check on you. Turns out I arrived just in time.
You did well just now—you didn't disgrace our Niten Ichi-ryu."
Embarrassed, Shirou scratched the back of his head.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Cú Chulainn barked impatiently from the other side.
"Since you've been taking care of my disciple, it's only right that I, the Sensei, return the favor and learn from your great skills.
I am Niten Ichi-ryu's Miyamoto Musashi! Prepare yourself!"
After introducing herself, Miyamoto Musashi's aura changed dramatically.
Shirou, standing behind her, couldn't help but be amazed. His usually carefree, smiling teacher now resembled an unsheathed legendary blade—sharp and overwhelming.
"Hoh~ I thought you were just some delicate flower, but it turns out you're more like a fierce lioness!
So, you're that kid's Sensei. Judging by your appearance, you must be Saber. Perfect! I wasn't fully satisfied earlier—let's keep going, Eastern sword master!"
A murderous aura surged from Cú Chulainn.
Even Shirou, standing behind Musashi, felt suffocated by its intensity.
But Miyamoto Musashi remained unmoved, her feet shifting lightly as she searched for her opponent's weaknesses.
Without warning, the two figures clashed.
Blades flashed, and the sound of steel echoed throughout the spacious dojo.
Shirou was forced to retreat, step after step, until his back hit the wall.
The polished wooden floor, once smooth, was torn apart by the aftershocks of their blows, leaving massive cracks.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere, because Cú Chulainn had abandoned the fight to chase after Shirou, a minor quarrel broke out between Rin Tohsaka and the white-haired, red-clad man standing beside her.
"Ugh! Of all times, someone just had to be at the school! Archer, go after them, quick!"
Rin Tohsaka stomped her foot as she gave orders to her Servant.
But Archer remained still, unmoving.
"Rin, I have to remind you—this isn't a good idea. The Holy Grail War must remain hidden from the public. Lancer prioritizing the elimination of witnesses is—"
"I know! But I'm the Master, so you have to listen to me!"
Seeing that Archer wasn't budging, Rin resorted to stubbornness, hiding her true motives behind the bluster.
Though she appeared cold and calculating, Rin Tohsaka was far more compassionate than many other ruthless magus.
Letting an innocent person die because of her? That was something she couldn't accept.
"Understood."
Archer sighed, resigned. He had known for a long time that his Master acted tough but had a soft heart.
Someday, people would come up with a word specifically to describe people like her... What was it again? Tsundere?
Before Archer could move, a loud crash echoed as a figure was sent flying from the school building.
It was none other than the blue-clad Cú Chulainn.
He landed face-first on the ground, his legs and magic spear dragging behind him, carving three long trenches into the dirt.
"You damn woman!"
Cú Chulainn wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, glaring furiously at the hole in the wall.
Just moments earlier, he had been preparing to unleash his Noble Phantasm—a strike that would have pierced Miyamoto Musashi's heart.
But in that critical moment, Musashi had seized the brief instant when he was gathering magical energy. She closed the gap in a flash, deflecting his hasty attack with her twin swords, then delivered a hard kick to his stomach, sending him flying through the wall.
It was the first time Cú Chulainn had encountered someone who could forcefully interrupt him as he prepared to unleash his Noble Phantasm.
Miyamoto Musashi now stood in the hole, looking down at him.
"That was for how you treated my disciple earlier.
Next time, I'll aim for your head. Look forward to it."
"Who in their right mind would look forward to that?!"
Cú Chulainn muttered under his breath.
"Tch~ Fighting Eastern Heroic Spirits is such a pain..."
"Thinking of running away?"
Musashi immediately noticed Cú Chulainn's waning battle spirit and furrowed her brows slightly.
"No choice. My Noble Phantasm was interrupted, and I can't win in a straight fight. While I do enjoy crossing blades with strong opponents like you, my Shishou has given strict orders not to fall too early. So, I'll take my leave for now.
If you decide to chase me, be prepared to die."
Cú Chulainn spun his spear, dragging it behind him as he swiftly retreated from the battlefield.
Watching his retreating figure, Miyamoto Musashi frowned deeply.
"This has to be a joke!"
At that moment, a shocked voice rang out.
Rin Tohsaka stood there, staring at Musashi in disbelief.
Out of curiosity, she had just used her Master's authority to check Musashi's stats, and the screen filled with attributes above A-rank left her stunned.
The reason was simple: a Servant's stats weren't just influenced by their Master's magical energy—they were significantly boosted by their fame.
As one of Japan's most renowned sword masters, Miyamoto Musashi was a household name. Fuyuki City, in particular, could be considered her home turf, giving her a massive boost.
Combined with the bonuses from the Saber class, her stats being off the charts wasn't surprising at all.
"Good thing one of them left. There's still one more. You're not thinking of running away too, are you, white-haired man?"
Musashi smiled kindly as she looked at Rin and Archer.
Both Rin and Archer shivered involuntarily.
Archer, in particular, looked especially frustrated.
This world... Why is it so different from the one I experienced? Was there something wrong with the way I was summoned?
If Ryou were here, he would have instantly recognized this prematurely aged, red-clad Heroic Spirit as none other than the future version of Emiya Shirou, adopted by Kiritsugu Emiya.
In a way, he and Musashi Shirou were parallel versions of the same person.