"Why was I chosen as a Master in the Holy Grail War?"
Shirou couldn't understand it.
He had no wish he wanted to entrust to the Holy Grail, nor did he have any intention of stepping into that so-called vortex that already sounded unpleasant just by description.
And yet, the Command Spell on the back of his hand made one thing undeniably clear: he had been chosen by the Holy Grail.
Shirou took out the little yellow duck. "Hey, Makiri, wake up. Something's come up."
An unpleasant, damp voice echoed through the tatami room.
"Though it's a bit late, as expected… I knew it. I knew you would be chosen by the Holy Grail.
As the creator of the Command Spells, if I say so myself, then there can be no mistake."
"What are you so smug about?" Shirou said irritably. "What's going on? Didn't you say only those with wishes get chosen?"
The rubber duck let out a cold chuckle. "Kukuku… kid, you really don't understand?"
"Quit acting mysterious and just tell me!" Shirou kicked the duck.
"Even with the Mystic Eyes of the End that can perceive all things, you still cannot see yourself? How ironic."
Makiri spoke slowly, "You do have a wish entrusted to the Holy Grail. You simply haven't realized it yet.
Anyone… no, even something inhuman, as long as it still has a body of flesh and blood, will inevitably possess desire.
No one is exempt. You are no exception either, kid."
"…"
Shirou narrowed his eyes in silence.
I have a wish?
Impossible.
The being known as Shirou Amamiya, his goals, his ideals, his convictions…
Everything that could be called a wish had already been fulfilled on the day the Fairy Kingdom was established.
He had gone through countless hardships and battles.
From innocence to coldness. From kindness to cruelty. From compromise to extremity.
At the end of that long journey, Shirou achieved his original ideal.
Although he wasn't able to witness the eternal land of Britannia prosper in peace with his own eyes, he felt no regret.
Because he had the finest, most exceptional successor.
Morgan.
The witch who fought alongside him. The Savior. The Fairy of Paradise.
Shirou trusted her deeply.
If it were Morgan, she would surely inherit his will… no.
She would become an even greater king than he ever was.
During the conquest of Britannia, Shirou had grown increasingly extreme in the later stages.
He crushed all opposition with absolute force, spreading fear so that the fairies would tremble and submit to him.
But once peace was restored, such terror was no longer necessary.
Marked by the death of the tyrant, Fairy Knight Arthur, Britannia would usher in a new system.
Under the wise rule of Morgan, the Fairy Queen, Britannia would become a gentle land, a paradise filled with joy, happiness, equality, and beauty.
Though it would be incredibly difficult to achieve, Shirou believed it without doubt.
Because if it was her, kinder than anyone else, then she would surely succeed.
After all, this was the utopia that belonged to both Shirou and Morgan.
...
...
"Sigh…"
Shirou let out a breath as he walked out of the bedroom and into the living room.
In the end, he still couldn't figure out why he had been chosen by the Command Spell.
It was Sunday today, so there were no classes. Taking it easy for once should be fine.
I'll just muddle through the morning for now. In the evening, I'll call Byakuya Matou over and discuss the next steps.
"Shirou! You're up so late, I'm starving here!"
Taiga Fujimura tapped her bowl with her chopsticks in rapid succession, urging him impatiently.
"Good morning, Shirou-nii-san. I came over to play."
Sakura Matou sat there as if she belonged in the house, greeting him with a sweet, gentle smile.
Shirou: "..."
For the first time since returning to this world, the eight-year-old boy felt the weight of being the head of a household settle onto his shoulders.
This hard-won "place to belong" was now something he had to protect.
Even if it couldn't quite be called a wish, the desire to protect everyone was completely genuine.
...
...
Shirou wasn't the type to avoid reality.
With several months still left before things truly began, and now that the Command Spells had appeared on his hand, the only option was to prepare as best as he could.
First, preparations for summoning a Servant.
Second, investigating the other participating Magus and keeping watch on the only known enemy at present, the Tohsaka Family.
Third, setting up a Barrier around the Amamiya residence to establish magical defenses.
With Makiri's help, the second and third points wouldn't be difficult, but there was no need to rush.
So it came back to the most fundamental issue.
The core of the Holy Grail War was Servant versus Servant.
Servants were the phantasms of the greatest and most powerful heroes in human history.
Before that overwhelming power, far beyond human limits, even the most exceptional Magus could only act as support and command.
According to Zouken, summoning a Servant required a corresponding catalyst, a Holy Relic.
For example, a weapon once used by a warrior, armor worn by a general, anything with a connection to the Servant.
Most Masters would prepare a suitable Holy Relic beforehand, as Magus despised unpredictability above all else.
While it was possible to summon without one, what kind of existence you would get was entirely out of your control.
Although Shirou had spent the past six months gradually learning about the history of this world through school and daily life, there was still something he couldn't quite grasp.
"Which Servants are considered the strongest, exactly?"
Makiri fell silent for a moment before answering.
"Kukuku… there's something like an unwritten rule in the Holy Grail War. The Saber class is the strongest, the most outstanding."
"Really?"
Saber… the strongest.
As someone deeply connected to the sword, and once the strongest swordsman in the Fairy Kingdom, Shirou couldn't help but feel pleased hearing that.
Hear that, Morgan? I'm the strongest.
"Across all eras, across East and West, humanity has poured immense imagination into the concept of the 'sword,' always treating it as something supremely noble."
The little yellow duck continued, listing them off with ease.
"The apocalyptic flame sword Laevateinn and the supreme demonic sword Gram from Norse mythology. The twilight demonic blade Balmung from Germanic legend.
The sacred sword Joyeuse from the legends of Charlemagne. The sacred sword Durandal from Greek-derived myths. The divine blade Amenomurakumo-no-Tsurugi from Japanese mythology.
Every one of these is a Noble Phantasm capable of destroying heaven and earth. Naturally, the heroes who wield them stand among the strongest."
Shirou listened with a blank expression.
He hadn't heard of a single one of those famous swords during his time in Britannia.
Alright. If I get the chance someday, I'll add them to my "Realm" too.
"And among all the Saber-class Servants in the Holy Grail War, there is one who is widely acknowledged as the strongest."
Shirou asked, curious, "Who is it?"
Makiri then spoke a name that filled him with deep nostalgia.
"King Arthur."
...
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