I stood in the middle of my cramped Fuyuki apartment, staring at the stolen Kiku-Ichimonji resting on my cheap folding table. The silence of the room was heavy.
'How do you summon a Servant?'
I didn't have liquid mercury. I didn't have the crystallized blood of a prestigious magus family. I didn't even have a proper basement to hide the magical lightshow.
But I did have a piece of chalk I had bought from the convenience store, a burning Command Seal on my right arm, and a brain stuffed to the brim with over a decade of Type-Moon trivia.
'Okay,' I thought, rolling up my sleeves. 'Otaku memory, don't fail me now.'
I knelt on the tatami mats and began to draw. I closed my eyes, visualizing the standard summoning circle, letting my hand guide the chalk. It was messy at first, but the moment the chalk connected the first outer ring, the familiar translucent blue screen flickered to life.
[Observed Magical Blueprint.]
[Skill acquired: Basic Magecraft Theory Lv.1]
[Skill acquired: Ritual Tracing Lv.1]
My hand steadied. Suddenly, the complex angles and runes made a strange kind of geometric sense. I finished the circle in under three minutes, stepping back to admire the array.
I placed the Kiku-Ichimonji directly in the center.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. My new body seemed to naturally reject my internal panic. My posture straightened on its own. A profound sense of modesty and calm washed over me, replacing the anxiety with an open, genuine desire to do this right. I had already decided earlier that I was going to be kind in this life. I was going to be helpful.
I held my right hand out toward the circle, the crimson Command Seal facing the blade. I didn't have any Magic Circuits unlocked. I couldn't feel any mystical energy inside me like the protagonists in the shows did. But I knew the Grail System was designed to facilitate the summoning as long as the Master was chosen and had the anchor. The Command Seal would have to act as the bridge.
I closed my eyes and began to recite the incantation from memory.
"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone."
The chalk circle flared to life. Not a subtle glow, but a surging azure light. It wasn't pulling from my internal reserves—I didn't have any to give—but rather drawing on the ambient mana of the city, filtered through the authority of the red mark on my arm.
"The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg. The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that controls the kingdom circulating."
The wind whipped around the small room, rattling the windows and blowing my loose papers into the air. The Kiku-Ichimonji vibrated violently. I kept my voice steady, feeling a strange sense of serenity.
"Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."
The light shifted from azure to a blinding white.
"I announce. Your body is under my command, my fate is in your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer!"
I pushed every ounce of sincerity I had into the final line.
"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance!"
A shockwave blasted through the room, knocking me back a step. The light peaked, burning bright enough to force my eyes shut, and then—just as suddenly as it started—it vanished.
The wind died down. The heavy silence returned.
I opened my eyes, a warm, welcoming smile already forming on my face.
I was ready for Sakura Saber. Okita Sōji. The absolute sweetheart of the mobile games. I was ready for her to bounce on her heels in her bright pink kimono, flash a peace sign, and cheerfully shout, "Okita's Great Victory!"
The smoke slowly cleared from the center of the array.
The figure standing there was short, petite, and holding a drawn katana. But the pink kimono was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, she wore a ragged, pale blue-green haori—the traditional uniform of the Shinsengumi—draped over a dark, blood-stained combat uniform. Her pale blonde hair was tied back, and a long, tattered scarf wrapped around her neck, hiding the lower half of her face.
My breath caught in my throat. The temperature in the room plummeted.
This wasn't the cheery gag character. The aura rolling off her was thick, suffocating, and reeked of iron and death. Her eyes were completely dead—the cold, empty stare of a hardened manslayer, a weapon forged in the bloody streets of the Bakumatsu era.
This was the Fate/Type Redline Okita. The ruthless, terrifying killer.
She didn't bounce on her heels. She moved with the silent grace of a predator, taking a single step forward. The tip of her blade raised, pointing directly at my throat.
"Servant, Saber," she said. Her voice wasn't bright or cherry; it was flat, cold, and entirely devoid of emotion. "I ask of you. Are you my Master?"
Every survival instinct in my body told me to back away. But that natural composure held me steady. I didn't feel the need to posture or assert dominance. She was a killer, yes, but she was also a tragic figure who suffered immensely.
I didn't flinch. I offered her a polite, entirely modest bow, keeping my hands visible and open.
"I am," I said gently, my voice calm and completely sincere. "My name is Kenji Sato. It is a profound honor to meet you, Okita-san. I promise to be as helpful to you as I possibly can."
Okita's eyes narrowed slightly, visibly caught off guard by the utter lack of fear or magus-like arrogance. She searched my face for deception, finding only a polite, open smile. Slowly, she lowered her blade.
"I see. Contract established," she muttered, sheathing her sword with a sharp clack.
"Then from now on, my sword is your—"
She stopped.
Her shoulders hitched. She suddenly brought a hand to her mouth, turning her head away as a violent, wracking cough tore through her small frame. It was a wet, horrific sound. When she pulled her hand away, I could see the bright streak of crimson smeared across her pale skin.
She stiffened, her dead eyes snapping back to me, filled with a sudden, defensive hostility. She expected me to look at her with disgust. To curse my luck for summoning a 'broken' Saber.
'Right on schedule,' I thought, my expression softening. I had stolen the sword specifically for this. I knew the conceptual tuberculosis was baked into her Saint Graph.
I didn't look at her with disappointment. I took a slow, deliberate step forward. I didn't reach for my Command Seals. I didn't issue an order. I just looked at her, my golden eyes filled with quiet, unwavering concern.
"Okita-san," I asked softly, keeping my voice gentle and completely free of judgment. "If you will allow me... could I try to cure your tuberculosis?"
———
The hours bled away. The late-night variety shows on the television transitioned into early morning news broadcasts, but neither of us moved.
Okita sat quietly, her eyes occasionally drifting from the screen to watch me. I hadn't stopped reading, cross-referencing, and scribbling notes since I sat down. The medical textbooks were piled high, surrounded by hastily scrawled diagrams of human lungs juxtaposed with theories on spiritual cores.
My system was going crazy, the translucent blue text scrolling in the corner of my vision at an incredible pace. I was absorbing medical literature like a sponge, my foundational skills acting as a massive multiplier for how fast I could comprehend new material.
[Reading recognized: Pulmonary Tuberculosis Pathology]
[Skill Acquired: Infectious Disease Recognition Lv.1]
[Infectious Disease Recognition leveled up to Lv.3]
[Reading recognized: Advanced Respiratory Mechanics]
[Skill Acquired: Respiratory Pathology Lv.1]
[Respiratory Pathology leveled up to Lv.3]
[Symptom Diagnosis leveled up to Lv.14]
[Basic Anatomy leveled up to Lv.15]
[First Aid leveled up to Lv.14]
'This is insane,' I thought, rubbing my burning eyes. 'At this rate, I'll have the medical knowledge of a chief of surgery by tomorrow. But it's still just human biology.'
I shifted gears, pulling out the notes I'd made on Heroic Spirits and the Grail system, forcing my brain to overlap the concepts of physical illness with spiritual data.
[Cross-referencing historical pathology with spiritual manifestation...]
[Skill Acquired: Conceptual Affliction Theory Lv.1]
[Conceptual Affliction Theory leveled up to Lv.4]
I stared at the glowing blue text. If this system worked on standard RPG logic, I just needed to combine these disparate concepts into a unified diagnostic tool.
'System,' I mentally commanded, focusing all my intent. 'Fuse my high-level Symptom Diagnosis and Basic Anatomy with Conceptual Affliction Theory.'
The interface glowed a brilliant, golden hue.
[Skill Synergy Recognized.]
[Fusing Skills...]
[Skill Acquired: Spiritual Anatomy Scanning Lv.1]
I let out a sharp breath, dropping my pen. That was it. That was the bridge I needed.
But before I could even process the new skill, the system interface suddenly expanded, dominating my vision with a massive, shimmering silver notification.
[Milestone Reached: 10 Medical-Class Skills Acquired.]
* Basic Anatomy (Lv.15)
* Symptom Diagnosis (Lv.14)
* First Aid (Lv.14)
* Herbal Identification (Lv.2)
* Toxin Recognition (Lv.2)
* Emergency Field Treatment (Lv.2)
* Infectious Disease Recognition (Lv.3)
* Respiratory Pathology (Lv.3)
* Conceptual Affliction Theory (Lv.4)
* Spiritual Anatomy Scanning (Lv.1)
[Requirement met: Massive data processing necessity for advanced medical applications.]
[Constructing auxiliary analytical processor...]
[Skill Acquired: Clinical Sage Lv.1]
A cool, synthesized voice—completely distinct from my own thoughts—echoed clearly in my mind.
I blinked, a massive grin spreading across my face despite the exhaustion. 'Wait. An inner voice that processes data and runs analytics? This is literally just like Rimuru's Great Sage, from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime! I basically just got an AI assistant in my head!'
I looked up. Okita was watching me from across the room, the glow of the television reflecting in her dull eyes.
"Okita-san," I said, my voice tight with anticipation. I stood up and walked over to her. "I just acquired a method to look past your physical vessel and actually see the structure of your Saint Graph. But..."
I hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of boundaries. "To get an accurate reading without interference from your mystic code and armor, I need to scan your chest directly. Would you... be willing to remove or at least loosen your haori and uniform?"
Okita didn't gasp, blush, or call me a pervert like a standard anime heroine would. She was a soldier from a brutal era. She simply looked at me with those calm, deadpan eyes, evaluating the request.
"If it is necessary for your treatment," she said flatly.
Without a hint of hesitation, she slipped the pale blue-green Shinsengumi haori off her shoulders, folding it neatly on the tatami mat. Then, she reached up and unbuttoned the stiff, high collar of her dark combat uniform, loosening the fabric enough to expose her collarbones and the upper expanse of her chest, right over where her heart—and her spiritual core—would reside.
She sat there, perfectly still, looking up at me expectantly.
I blinked, genuinely caught off guard by the lack of resistance. "You agreed to that really easily, Okita-san. Aren't you worried I might try something? We only just met.
Okita let out a soft, amused exhale. The coldness in her gaze thawed just a fraction.
"Master," she said, her voice quiet but carrying the absolute certainty of a master swordsman. "If you harbored ill intent, my blade would remove your head before you even registered the movement. I agreed because I know I can stop you whenever I wish."
She paused, looking up into my eyes. The hardened killer softened, replaced by the tragic, hopeful girl underneath. "...But mostly, because I believe in you. You looked me in the eyes and told me you would cure death itself. A man who lies does not make such absurd claims with such a straight, earnest face."
A slight embarrassment rises onto my face a bit. 'I knew i shouldn't have said that I was just excited for the opportunity'
But still I felt grateful she trusted me even if she said she could kill me easily. "Thank you, Okita-san. I won't betray that trust."
I knelt in front of her. I took a deep breath, raised my right hand, and held it a few inches over her exposed chest.
'Spiritual Anatomy Scanning,' I activated the skill.
My vision shifted. The physical world washed out into a translucent gray, and suddenly, I could see it. Okita's spiritual core was a brilliant, burning sphere of pale blue light, pulsing with the immense power of a Heroic Spirit. But threaded through that beautiful light were jagged, sickly black veins. The concept of 'Illness'. It was tightly woven into the very fabric of her existence, constricting her core every time it pulsed.
It was horrific.
[Analyzing Saint Graph Structure...]
[Skill Acquired: Saint Graph Comprehension Lv.1]
Information flooded my brain. The sheer density of processing a Heroic Spirit's conceptual existence was staggering. I felt a spike of pain behind my eyes, but before the migraine could truly form, Clinical Sage intercepted the data.
[Saint Graph Comprehension leveled up to Lv.2]
[Saint Graph Comprehension leveled up to Lv.3]
'Alter the data? You mean hack the Grail's records?' I thought back. 'Can we even do that?'
A massive, golden notification window suddenly dominated my vision, pulsing with a heavy, game-breaking weight.
[Ultimate Condition Met.]
[Skill Acquired: Throne Modification Lv.1]
I slowly lowered my hand, opening my eyes. The physical world returned to normal. Okita was looking at me, her head tilted slightly, waiting for a verdict.
I looked down at my own hands. I didn't just have a healing skill anymore. I had the ability to edit the source code of human history.
"Okita-san," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with sheer awe. "I found it. I know exactly how to fix you."
Okita blinked, her pale face tilting in genuine bewilderment. "Fix me? Master, what do you—"
Before she could finish the sentence, I mentally triggered the new skill. 'Clinical Sage, initiate Throne Modification on the target's spiritual core.'
Okita's voice cut off instantly. Her eyes, which had been tracking my movements, suddenly glazed over, losing their focus entirely. She froze mid-breath, her posture locking into place like a statue carved from ice.
I froze too, my hands hovering in the air. "Okita-san?"
No response. Not even a twitch of her eyelashes.
I waved a hand in front of her face. Nothing. I gently poked her soft cheek. It was warm, but she didn't react at all.
'Clinical Sage, did I break her?!' I panicked internally.
'Oh. Good.'
I let out a breath and got to work. The interface opened a massive, complex web of magical circuits and conceptual code in my vision. Unweaving the 'Weak Constitution' curse was like trying to untangle a massive knot of incredibly fragile, explosive thread. It was tedious, requiring intense, surgical focus.
After about twenty minutes of waiting for the Sage to compile a particularly dense block of historical data, I found myself just sitting there, staring at the paused, unblinking Servant.
I was incredibly bored.
My eyes drifted. The system had already pulled up her anatomical data for the medical scan, displaying baseline charts in my peripheral vision. With a quiet hum of curiosity, I pulled a soft measuring tape from the small sewing kit I had bought earlier that day.
'For complete and thorough medical accuracy, obviously,' I justified to myself, though the modest, refined part of my brain was screaming in mild embarrassment.
I carefully wrapped the tape around her, measuring her bust, waist, and hips. I looked at the resulting numbers, gave a solemn, appreciative nod to myself, and immediately shoved the tape measure away, clearing my throat loudly in the empty room.
'Right. Back to rewriting history.'
Three Hours Later
[Throne Modification leveled up to Lv.34]
I wiped a line of sweat from my forehead, exhaling a long, exhausted breath.
The sickly black veins that had been woven through Okita's brilliant blue spiritual core were completely gone. I had successfully excised the conceptual tuberculosis without destroying the foundation of her identity.
I pulled up the system's status screen to check the final results. Because I had effectively removed a core piece of her established legend, her raw parameters had shifted to compensate. Her overall Strength and Endurance had dropped slightly. However, staring at the actual letters, they were still terrifyingly high, bolstered by my own ridiculous stats.
[Master Status]
* Name: Kenji Sato
* Magic Circuits: 100
* Magic Capacity: 123 Units
* Mana Purity: Exceptional
[Servant Status: Saber]
* True Name: Okita Sōji
* Strength: B (Adjusted down from B+)
* Endurance: D (Adjusted down from C)
* Agility: A+
* Mana: B
* Luck: D
* Noble Phantasm: C
'My mana pool is completely insane,' I realized, staring at the screen. A hundred Magic Circuits with that kind of capacity and purity? 'Even with the stat drop from the modification, my sheer output is keeping her at top-tier Saber levels. She's going to be an absolute monster on the battlefield now that she won't cough up blood mid-swing.'
"Clinical Sage, bring her back online," I commanded.
Okita took a sudden, sharp gasp of air. Her body slumped forward, and I instinctively caught her by the shoulders before she could faceplant into the tatami mats.
"Okita-san? Are you okay?" I asked, looking down at her.
She shifted against me, and when she looked up, my calm composure almost shattered entirely.
Her face was flushed a deep, feverish red. Her usually dead, cold eyes were heavily lidded, hazy, and completely unfocused. She let out a soft, breathy pant, her hands weakly gripping the front of my hoodie. She looked halfway between being completely intoxicated and deeply, dangerously lustful.
"M-Master..." she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically sweet and slurred, leaning her incredibly warm face against my chest. "It feels... so hot... and strange inside..."
The sudden rewiring of her spiritual core, combined with the massive influx of my ridiculously pure mana rushing into her freshly healed Saint Graph, had clearly scrambled her sensory input. She was practically melting into my lap, her breath hot against my collarbone.
I stared down at the terrifying manslayer who was currently acting like a completely flushed, overly affectionate maiden.
I let out a long, heavy sigh, gently patting her head to keep her steady.
"I'm going to have to fix that before the Grail War starts tonight," I muttered to the empty room.
Okita didn't just lean against me; she practically tried to climb into my lap. Her hands slid up the front of my hoodie, gripping my shoulders as she attempted to push her weight against me to knock me backward.
"Master..." she breathed, her face inches from mine, radiating an unnatural, feverish heat. "I feel so... full of your energy... it's overwhelming..."
I didn't panic. With a completely calm, level-headed motion, I caught her wrists in my hands.
"You're burning up, Okita-san," I said smoothly.
I didn't try to wrestle a Servant; I just used basic judo leverage. With a fluid shift of my weight, the momentum instantly reversed. Okita let out a soft, surprised gasp as she was tipped backward. A second later, she was flat on her back against the tatami mats, and I was hovering over her, pinning her wrists securely above her head.
I won't lie—the view was spectacular.
Her combat uniform was still unbuttoned from the spiritual scan, the pale skin of her collarbones and the soft curve of her chest rising and falling heavily with her erratic breathing. I allowed myself a brief, internal moment to appreciate the fact that the measurements I had taken earlier were, indeed, completely accurate.
"You're awfully aggressive right now," I teased mildly, deciding to play around with the situation for just a second. It was incredibly surreal seeing the terrifying Bakumatsu manslayer reduced to a blushing, pliable mess beneath me.
Okita let out a soft whine, shifting her hips uselessly against the floor. Her hazy, heavy-lidded eyes looked up at me through her pale blonde bangs, completely devoid of her usual killer instinct.
"But I'm finally fixed..." she slurred sweetly, a dazed smile spreading across her lips. "I feel so amazing... Master, we should seal this contract properly. We should have s—"
'Clinical Sage, freeze her!' I mentally screamed.
Instantly, Okita froze mid-syllable. Her eyes glazed over, her jaw locked in place, and her body went completely rigid as the system threw her back into stasis.
I let out a massive, shaky breath, instantly letting go of her wrists and collapsing backward onto the floor beside her. I dragged a hand down my face.
Thank god I stopped that.
I was quite frankly still a virgin in my past life, and I certainly hadn't done anything in this one. The absolute last thing I needed was to randomly lose it on a Tuesday afternoon to a girl I primarily knew as a 2D, klutzy waifu who, up until an hour ago, was constantly on the verge of coughing up a lung and dying. There were boundaries, even for my otaku sensibilities.
"Right. Let's get this sorted out," I muttered, sitting back up and opening the system interface hovering over her. "Clinical Sage, filter the mana flow. Dilute the initial shock to her sensory receptors and stabilize her personality matrix. Let's aim for a healthy balance—less 'bloodthirsty killer', absolutely zero 'mana-drunk succubus'."
I stood up and grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, tossing it over her still form to make sure she was decent and warm. I glanced at the cheap clock hanging on the wall. It was barely 3:00 PM. The Holy Grail War wouldn't truly kick off until nightfall, and the mental strain of literally rewriting human history had left me feeling like I'd run a marathon.
I unceremoniously flopped down onto my own futon on the other side of the room, pulling the covers up.
"I need a nap," I mumbled to the ceiling, my eyes already drifting shut. "And then I need a seriously decent dinner."