Art Of Puppetry...

Chapter 7 - Art Of Puppetry...

"Shit," the man known as Nezumi swore as he clenched his wounded leg. "Shit," he repeated, as if to reaffirm how bad the situation really was.

This wasn't what he had expected. Sure, he had been shot before, but it had mostly been for intimidation. In most people's opinion, he neither was worthy nor dangerous enough to warrant the hassle of having the police attention.

Nezumi was just fine with that. Being insignificant meant that no one would go out of their way to hurt him. It was perhaps the only advantage of his lifestyle, but it all came crashing down the night he met the thrice-accursed Archer.

It was in the early days of the vigilante's career, when his alias had yet to become known in the underworld. He had caught Nezumi red-handed while he was trying to fence some stolen goods. It wasn't something that would get him into any real trouble with the law, but he figured that answering the teen's questions was better than the police's.

How wrong he had been. Little by little, the information became more difficult to get and the amount of dirt Archer had on him grew over time. Nezumi tried to shake him off by changing hideouts or even disappearing altogether for a while. It was a completely useless effort.

Now, in hindsight, it would have been better if he just agreed to be turned over to the police and sent to jail. There was very little chance that somebody would shoot him in there.

But the problem with hindsight is that it usually comes too late for it to be any good, so the only thing he could do was drag his limping self as far and fast as he could, hoping that his pursuers wouldn't see the trail of blood he was leaving behind.

"Where do you think you're going, rat?" A voice behind him asked accompanied by the sound of a gun being cocked.

'Shit. I'm so dead,' Nezumi thought, but despite that he turned around to face his would be killer. No way he'd get shot from behind twice in the same night.

The person that was pointing a gun at him was a tall man dressed in a white coat and trousers, with a black shirt underneath and a white necktie. His hair was carefully combed backwards and the eyes behind the designer's glasses where sharp and cold.

Even to someone who kept himself on the border of the underworld, like Nezumi, it was painfully obvious that this man was a pro. That tailored suit wasn't the kind of stuff a common thug would wear, especially not when trying to kill someone.

"Look, man," he began, "I don't know what this is all about, but you got the wrong guy."

"Save your breath," the hit man answered coldly. "I never get my targets wrong. I don't know what you did to have someone sending me after you, but it must have been something big. My services don't come cheap. Regardless, that doesn't concern me. Farewell, Nezumi-san."

"Wait, don't…!"

BLAM!

Shirou followed the paper crane as fast as he could, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs and the strain of his heart.

Years of diligent training were paying off, but while his Prana reserves was still almost untouched, the effort was severely draining his body's stamina. No matter how much he could reinforce his body, moving faster than humanly possible was extremely taxing. He could consume more Prana and preserve his energy, but considering just how small his magical pool was it wasn't a good idea. It took him less time to recover from a physical effort than a magical one, in an area with little to no natural Mana.

Fuyuki was naturally rich on that side but it wasn't like he could sap the surrounding energy to reinforce himself. The body's rejection of foreign energies meant that his reinforcement would last shorter and would be less stable if he used the ambient Mana instead of his own Od.

It was this sort of situation that stressed the importance of being efficient and versatile. He was glad that he decided to persevere in his archery and fighting training. If he had to rely only on his magical reserves he would be nearly useless, even if he had the talent to cast spells properly.

Fortunately there was more to a fight than Magic. Useful as it was, magic hardly trumped over everything else. Kuzuki-sensei was the prime example of this. With his smooth style, void of needless movements, he could keep up with Shirou's reinforced body with ease.

He didn't dare to think what a magically reinforced Kuzuki could be capable of. He would be unstoppable by all but the strongest Magi and, even it that case, he would make a terrible foe.

He was so very glad that his teacher had decided to quit his life as a killer. He wasn't sure he could have taken him on for real if they had met as enemies unless he had the advantage of surprise.

As he pondered all this, his destination drew closer. The paper crane was humming lightly as they reached the dock. He idly remembered his father telling him that it had been the site of the first battle of the last Holy Grail War.

Considering how desolated it was, the likelihood of the situation being bad for Nezumi were rather high.

The place was rather large, and searching between rows of containers would take a while, even with the paper crane guiding him. Turning off his body's reinforcement he switched on his ears'. The difference in Prana requirement between the two parts of his body caused him to slightly misjudge the amount of energy and was rewarded by a loud whistling sound right inside his head.

He quickly reduced the energy, freeing his hearing of the offending noise and focusing on the actual sounds of the place.

Ragged breathing, the sound of something being dragged, uncertain steps in one point and someone running in that direction.

"Where do you think you're going, rat?" An unknown voice asked, punctuated by a metallic noise that sounded too much like a gun for comfort.

"Look, man, I don't know what this is all about, but you got the wrong guy."

Archer was already on the move. The fear in his voice and the scent of blood was all the information he needed to understand the situation. He darted in their direction with an arrow already out of the quiver and onto the bowstring.

He reached the edge of a container overlooking the scene just in time to see an unknown man about to squeeze the trigger of a gun pointed at Nezumi's head.

With practiced confidence, the arrow was released with utmost precision and timing.

BLAM!

The gun flew away from its owner's grasp, hit by the round shaped arrowhead shot by the impeccable Archer. The bullet flew in Nezumi's direction, slightly offset by its intended path.

A red trail of blood formed and dripped down the trembling man's cheek, although the prominent sound of liquid dripping came from his urine stained trousers instead of his face.

Nezumi had little time to contemplate both his luck and shame as he promptly passed out.

While Nezumi slumped on the ground another arrow flew from Archer's bow toward the assassin.

To his credit, the hit man proved his ability by jumping backward and landing in a defensive crouch. They were clearly non-lethal weapons, but that didn't mean they didn't hurt like hell.

"So this is the infamous Archer I've been hearing about. You really do look young," he chuckled "Well, isn't this just grand. Who'd have thought that this insignificant rat would have led me to a much more interesting prey?"

"…," Archer didn't say anything. Instead he chose to release another couple of arrow with lightening speed. The target rolled out of their path and out of sight.

"Ah, as much as I would like to stay and play with you, I really have to go. It's my policy not to work for free or outside the terms of my contract. I'll see you another time. Ja ne."

He spun and run away, toward the less illuminated area of the docks. There was a grin of satisfaction on his face. Apparently, despite the job going badly, he was quite pleased by the sudden turn of events.

With silent but fast steps he ran past a corner-

THUD!

-and promptly fell backwards when Archer's fist met his face.

"… You talk too much," the vigilante said flatly.

"H-how…," he stuttered holding his now bleeding nose.

"You're also too slow," Archer punctuated as he sped over the assassin's prone body and knocked him unconscious with a slightly reinforced punch.

When Nezumi opened his eyes again he was sitting against a container. His leg was bandaged and didn't hurt as much as before.

"How are you feeling, Nezumi-san?"

"Like I've been shot in a leg, you fucking moron," the man snarled. Archer's concern was grating on his nerves. If the vigilante was so concerned about his well-being, he shouldn't have blackmailed him into doing his bidding.

"I didn't expect this situation to turn this ugly. I'm sorry about your wound," he said apologetically.

"Yeah? Well that makes me feel so much better, dickhead. I told you I didn't want to do this, but did you give a fuck about that? No, so keep your lame excuses to yourself. I'm outta here."

"… You shouldn't walk with a leg like that."

"Look, fucktard," the man said in a bout of rage extremely out of character for him. "I don't give a damn about it right now. It hurts like hell, but it beats being dead by a long shot. I don't know how many other fuckers are after me because of you, so I'm getting the hell out of dodge while I still can. Don't bother looking for me."

"But…"

"Just leave me the fuck alone. Here, take this," he said, passing him a manila envelope from a pocket of his coat. "It's all I found about that girl of yours. If there's really something worthy of sending a killer after me over her, it's in there."

"… Thank you, Nezumi-san."

"Yeah, yeah. Go jump off a cliff or something. I'd appreciate that much better than your gratitude, you bastard."

Shirou watched the man stumbling away, feeling mortified. When he first coerced him to look into Kazama's disappearance, he hadn't expected something of this magnitude. Even if there was an organized criminal group behind her abduction, for them to resort to murder was too much to consider in advance.

That aside, it was a great leap forward in the investigation, but it also meant that behind this case there was a much greater threat than initially anticipated.

It could be too big for him to handle by himself, but he couldn't just trust the police. Having lived himself in a form of social underworld, he knew exactly how little the law enforcement actually knew of what was going around in the apparently quiet streets of this city.

No. If he could deal with the situation by himself he would, and only if it proved too much to handle would he turn to the police.

There was also another option. However, involving Tohsaka as a Magus would mean revealing too many things and he wasn't ready to deal with that can of worms.

He walked to the unconscious hit man and lifted him over his shoulder. He wouldn't wake up for a while thanks to a minor sleeping spell. He would get all the information he could out of him and then he would drop him with in front of the police. Even if this guy was smart enough to use a gun with no relation to other crimes, being found armed on the law enforcement's doorstep was enough to warrant some question. Hopefully, they would be competent enough to charge him with something and keep him behind bars for a while.

With a sigh he reinforced his body again, before leaping for the rooftops and toward his house.

At dawn, the assassin woke up in a cell in the local police station with a broken nose and no recollection of how he got there. No amount of pleading of ignorance got him out of there and, much to his dismay, he hadn't been smart enough to use a new weapon for his latest job.

Despite the general incompetence usually shown by the local officers, he wasn't about to get out anytime soon, and according to what they were finding out about him as they investigated, he probably wouldn't for the next forty to fifty years.

A weary Shirou made his way to school to school the following morning. It wasn't a common sight for the usually energetic teenager and it didn't go unnoticed by anyone.

Despite what he thought of himself, he was actually well known among his peers. Many considered him very odd sometimes, but the female half of the student body secretly liked him a lot. He was in the top four most attractive boys of the entire school, surpassed only by a couple of senior students and, surprisingly, Issei. While he wasn't openly attractive like others, his pleasant character and general will to help others made him rather popular with the girls. His popularity was further enhanced by certain pictures of him half naked in the archery club changing room, leaked by a guardian over-concerned with his lack of girlfriends.

He didn't know about those, or he would have self-combusted from embarrassment every time a girl looked halfway in his general direction, but the fact remained that people looked at him with admiration quite often.

He was also considered generally unapproachable in the romantic sense of the world for various reasons. The first was that getting close to him also meant to having to deal with a certain tiger spirited, cursed-shinai wielding teacher. Not many were willing to deal with that particular brand of nutcase outside of school. There was just a set amount of weekly craziness one could take, and Fujimura Taiga already filled everyone's quota with her classes.

The second reason was Shirou himself. With his crazy schedule and attitude there was little chance that he could be involved in a meaningful relationship with someone his age. His mental maturity was also leaps and bounds beyond than his peers, further widening the gap between him and them.

As a result, he was part of the local female fauna's fantasies, but the real life target of none. It was generally agreed that chasing after him was a clear sign of mild insanity at the very least.

That being said, it hardly passed unnoticed that the usually tireless teen looked like a sleepless zombie. While most chalked it up to his lifestyle finally catching up with him, a few had actual concern for his well being.

"Yo, Emiya," Matou Shinji greeted. "You look like a zombie this morning."

"Morning, Shinji," Shirou greeted back with the same monotone tone of voice that could be expected by the aforementioned undead.

"You should sleep more instead of tinkering until morning in that dusty shed of yours. You're going to make the entire club look bad at this rate."

"I'm glad you are so concerned about my health, Shinji," Shirou said sarcastically.

"Of course," Shinji replied, either not getting but probably ignoring deliberately the remark. "That's what friends are for, after all. Well, I'll see you in class. Later, Emiya."

Matou Shinji was a constant in Shirou's life. They became friends in middle school thanks to Sakura introducing them to each other. It couldn't be said that they immediately hit it off. As a matter of fact, no one could hit it off with Shinji. The self-absorbed Matou had the kind of personality that rubbed most people in the wrong way with two words.

Except girls, that is. They seemed to like being with Shinji, although it never lasted more than a few weeks. Either they wised up in regard to him and abandoned any hope of finding a decent human being underneath his rough exterior, or Shinji got tired of them and simply discarded them.

…

Not that those options were mutually exclusive.

Either way, if Shinji went out of his way just to let you know that you looked like shit without making (too much) fun of you, it really meant you were really down the drain. Which wasn't a mistaken assumption by any stretch of the imagination.

After rescuing his unwilling informant and hypnotizing every piece of information he could out of the assassin, Shirou had spent the rest of the night going through Nezumi's material in an attempt to figure out what happened to Kazama. Normally, even a sleepless night wouldn't have affected him that badly, but spending it with his brain reinforced as much as he could muster in a (relatively) safe manner took its toll on him.

Taiga and Sakura had both insisted that he should have stayed home for the day and, although Shirou agreed that he needed to rest, he also knew that he wouldn't sleep so long as his mind was taken by the mystery. Going to school was the best he could do to actually wind down a little, even if he didn't pay any attention in class.

Sadly, he wasn't the only one to think like that. The sleepless Tohsaka, for once uncaring of other people's opinion, went to school with bags under her eyes. Normally it wouldn't be too much of a problem since even seemingly faultless persons like Tohsaka Rin could have a bad night from time to time, but there were other factors to consider.

Shirou and Rin's late night activities didn't pass unnoticed. Some other students had spotted them together in town the previous evenings, and their tired appearances began to fuel the kind of rumors expected in a school filled with hormonal teenagers.

In a dark classroom

A group of students sat around a block of desks put together in a meeting room fashion. Their faces weren't visible in the dim light that filtered from behind the heavy curtains, but they didn't need to see each other. The purpose of their gathering didn't lay in themselves, after all.

"Have you heard about Tohsaka-hime?" Student Number 1 asked.

"Did something happen?" Student Number 2 inquired.

"I've heard her and Emiya are dating," the first answered.

"Are you kidding me? She's going out with the Fake Janitor of all people?"

"This is troubling," Number 3 commented.

"Not only that," Number 1 added grimly. "I heard they went all the way already."

"No way," Number 4 said disbelieving. "Tohsaka-hime wouldn't do that. She's just too pure."

"Is that why they both look like they didn't sleep at all last night?" Number 5 asked rhetorically with a grief stricken voice.

"I'm going to kill the bastard," Number 6 growled. "Tohsaka-hime is mine. Ours."

"What does she see in him anyway? That loser isn't good enough to clean her shoes. I would be much better for her," Number 4 spoke again.

"Perhaps he's blackmailing her with something."

"Impossible. Tohsaka-hime couldn't have done anything that could be used against her."

"Then maybe it's something he did to her."

"You don't mean...?"

"That bastard. I'm going to have his head on a pike."

Finally, the boy that sat at the head of the table spoke for the first time. His mouth was hidden behind his hands and his eyes couldn't be seen due to the reflection of the light on his glasses. His sitting position and his overall demeanor said everything about his role as The Leader.

"We cannot act rashly," he stated in a low voice. "We must ascertain the truth and act accordingly."

"That's right," the only boy standing, clearly The Advisor, said from beside the leader. "We need to find out more. Our next mission is to find out the truth behind these rumors."

"And if they are indeed true?"

"Then Emiya Shirou is a dead man," The Leader answered the collective question. "Comrades, we shall not let any offense go unpunished. The Tohsaka Worship Project must continue as planned. "

"OOOOOH!" They all cheered in agreement. They stood and left the classroom, leaving behind only The Leader and The Advisor. When the door closed again the latter spoke once more.

"Leader, are you sure about this?"

Behind his hands The Leader smiled wickedly.

Shirou caught wind that something was wrong at lunch break, that is, as soon as his brain had recovered enough to pay attention to anything. He had the distinct impression that other students were watching him when he wasn't looking. It was unnerving, mainly because he didn't know why they were doing it. He double-checked his uniform, but he hadn't worn anything incorrectly, and there was nothing wrong with his appearance beside his complexion.

Maybe he was just imagining things? Not likely, unless it was purely coincidental that the same student happened to follow him for three floors. He tried to move in a random pattern just to see if he was actually being followed or if they just happened to walk in the same direction.

His suspicions found confirmation when he climbed to the third floor only to descend to the second again from another set of stairs. There was no way someone would follow that route to go somewhere. He was obviously being trailed.

But why?

Rin wasn't in the best of moods. Sleepless nights and constant worry had since long eroded her patience. At that point even the usually deeply ingrained process of keeping up appearances was becoming a chore.

She definitely wasn't willing to keep up with her peers' shenanigans, so she completely ignored the not so subtle glances sent her way.

So what if she wasn't sleeping well? What did it matter to them how she looked? They didn't really even know her. They were just simpletons satisfied with the persona she made up for their sake. How did they dare to judge her for not being up to par every once in a while?

Of course, while she ranted inwardly she still smiled pleasantly on the outside. She was a disciplined Magus after all. It would take something extremely annoying to rile her up enough to explode.

Yeah, something like Matou Shinji for instance.

Matou Shinji was on the warpath. He couldn't believe he had actually looked out for that mongrel that morning. Out of sheer kindness, he had taken the trouble to inform Emiya of how much he sucked and that was the way he paid him back?

He strode the halls searching for the treacherous redhead who dared to lay his hands on a girl that belonged to him. It was already bad enough that he monopolized his sister every single day, but he could overlook that. They were supposed to be friends so there was nothing bad in sharing a few used toys.

Tohsaka was another matter altogether. She was a Magus and she belonged with a Magus. Not that Shinji was one, but he was the next closest thing. Shirou had no right to touch her after he'd gotten tired of her, much less when he still had to make his move in the first place.

Some things couldn't be overlooked or forgiven. It was about time to put the arrogant upstart in his place.

"Emiyaaaaaaa!" He roared as he saw his target coming down from the third floor.

"Uh? Shinji, what…-gh." Shirou words were caught in his throat as Shinji grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"How dare you, Emiya? How dare you touch her?"

"Wha- Shinji what the hell are talking about?"

"Don't play dumber than you already are," he growled, completely ignoring the rest of the crowd now looking at them without exception. "I know what you did."

"I suppose that's good for you," Shirou agreed, "but I really I have no idea of what this is all about."

"Ah! Of course! Like you did more than one thing even remotely worth mentioning in your life. I'm talking about Tohsaka. Toh-sa-ka!"

"…Uh?" Shirou replied intelligently. "What about Tohsaka-san?"

If Shinji had been calmer and a little smarter, then he would have realized the situation in that moment. The lack of embarrassment on Shirou's part at the mention of his supposed lover the day after they… tied the knot said enough about the truthfulness about the ongoing rumors. As it was, Shinji continued to blurt his nonsense for everyone to hear.

"I'm saying that I know you banged her! Everyone does!"

"…," wait. Did he mean bang her as in…? "Eh… EEEEEEHHHHHH?"

"Don't eeeh me, you bastard. You should just go ahead and d –ghhhk."

Shinji's eyes crossed and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. As the grip around his shirt lost power, Shirou looked worriedly at his friend turned accuser. It was like all strength had suddenly abandoned him and he just stood there slaw-jacked. In that moment Shirou looked down and noticed something. There was a foot, definitely female, sticking out from between Shinji's legs, crushing his groin in an obviously painful manner. Shirou winced in sympathy. Not that Shinji deserved any for what he had insinuated, but there is a basic camaraderie among men when it comes to genital injuries.

Already knowing what he would find, Shirou looked behind Shinji's frozen from. And winced again.

With an expression of absolute calmness, Tohsaka Rin stood with a foot firmly planted in Shinji's groin. There wasn't any indication of fury on her visage and that made it all the scarier. The audience was frozen in disbelief at her unusual display of violence.

"Uh… Tohsaka-san?"

"What is it, Emiya-kun?" She asked normally, like there was nothing strange with the situation, or as if she didn't feel any strain in the position she was keeping.

"I think that Shinji got the message."

"Hm. I suppose."

She returned her foot beside its companion with a grace that should have only belonged with an experienced groin-kicker.

Without the support of Tohsaka's leg, Shinji's knees buckled and he slumped on the floor with his face still frozen in the best imitation of a fish Shirou ever saw.

"What's going on here?" Issei asked, finally joining the scene and catching sight of Shinji's limp body. "Matou-kun! What happened to you? Are you all right? Emiya-kun, What happened?

"Ahhh…," Shirou trailed off, not knowing exactly how to word the situation.

"I think," Tohsaka said with unnatural calmness, "that someone must have caught sight of Emiya and I in the past few nights and reached the wrong conclusion about our relationship."

"How does it relate to the situation at hand?"

"It looks like," Shirou finally found the word, "that someone must have exaggerated a little with the gossip and led people to believe that me and Tohsaka-san are having… you know… an affair?"

"And Matou-kun began foaming from the mouth, how?"

"He might have voiced aloud his thoughts about the apparent situation, and my foot might accidentally have slipped between his legs when I approached him to explain how things actually are," Tohsaka declared, frowning with false guilt. "I'm really, really sorry for hurting him."

The crowd around them blinked and bought Tohsaka's excuse without a second thought.

'Incredible,' Shirou said to himself noticing this. 'It's incredible how people hold onto a blatantly fake story to preserve their twisted perception of reality. Tohsaka-san, you really are a fearsome one to use such a thing to your advantage.'

Issei sighed. "Well, be more careful in the future, Tohsaka-san. I will accompany Matou-kun to the infirmary, now. Oh, and for the sake of clearing this misunderstanding, I happened to be there with them these past few evenings. Nothing inappropriate took place, as we were busy looking for the missing third-year. Our meeting was not even remotely a social event."

That seemed to get the crowd whispering again. If an upstanding guy like Ryuudo Issei said that nothing was going on, then nothing was going on. With the matter settled, the rest of the student body returned to their daily activities like nothing had happened. Issei too left in the direction of the infirmary to find help for the abused boy.

"Uuuhhh," Shirou moaned, clearly disoriented by the surreal development. "Right. It's no use to be surprised by an unexpected turn of events for too long."

Tohsaka beside him did not speak for a moment. "Sorry about that, Emiya-kun. It looks like I dragged you in a ridiculous situation, and for nothing on top of that."

There was something about her posture that spoke of tiredness and defeat. Shirou could understand her situation and wondered how he could help her.

"Well… that might not be actually true," he said, pondering if what he was about to do was wise. "I asked… a friend of mine to look into this case and he stirred a hornet's nest. He left me some notes on what he found out before getting out of town."

He fished out an envelope from his back pocket. "Here's a copy. I spent last night trying to figure out something but didn't manage to get anything. Maybe you'll be luckier. I'll also try to give this to the police discretely without our names getting involved."

"Emiya-kun, this is…" she trailed off eyeing the envelope and then him in dumbfounded surprise. "I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say," he replied. "Just promise you'll get some decent sleep before going over this material. It doesn't look like you've been sleeping well recently."

"You are one to talk," she scoffed, looking at the bags under his eyes.

"I know. I'll skip archery practice today and get a few hours of sleep. I need to be at the top of my game for this."

"Sorry for troubling you so much."

"It's not a problem. Besides, now that we know there's more to this than initially thought, we absolutely must do something."

"You're right," she agreed. "Thank you Emiya-kun."

"Anytime," he acknowledged. "I've got to go now. Lunch break is almost over and I still have to eat."

"GROOOOWL!" Tohsaka's stomach announced loudly.

"And so do you from the look of things," he added, sweatdropping at the annoyance he saw on her face. It was undoubtedly caused by the second betrayal perpetrated by her stomach in a couple of days. "I have an extra bento, you know? Want to join me?"

"At this rate I'm going to owe you even more than I already do," the miserly Tohsaka complained.

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of chances to return the favor if you really want to."

"I suppose that's true. Well then, Emiya-kun, it looks like I'm in your care again. Lead the way. I'm famished." With that, she walked past him without a glance back.

"Oi, Tohsaka. Wait up," he ran after her, glad to have cheered her up a little.

He wasn't sure it was wise connecting Archer and Shirou in Tohsaka's perspective, but reasoned that there was no way she could connect his two identities just by that. He was also aware that she didn't have the same familiarity he had with the local underworld, and as such it was unlikely she would find anything in the material he gave her. It was merely a way to direct her effort and show her a little progress, nothing but a small placebo for her worries.

The problem was holding up the other end of his promise. Delivering Nezumi's information to the police, and making sure that they would take it as seriously as he did was a hard task. They wouldn't take Emiya Shirou seriously, and even if they did he couldn't say where the information came from. He would only put himself in an unwanted situation.

Archer, on the other hand, couldn't just waltz into the police station and demand to be heard. His anonymous tips served only to put an official ending to a situation he had already dealt with. This was an entirely different matter altogether and he needed the police's information network to solve it.

The problem was how to proceed. How and who could he contact to have this issue taken care of? Did he know someone in the law enforcement that was both driven and competent enough?

A name popped up in his mind, and it was the worst idea ever in the history of bad ideas.

It was also the only one he had...