Homurahara Academy · Collision

Ah, yet another day full of hope.

Though starting last night, the city once again seemed to be shrouded in the shadow of that so-called sixty-year cyclical curse often spoken of by Fuyuki's older residents. Reports of gas explosions, urban murder cases, and mass fainting incidents had visibly increased.

Still, that was the extent of it.

No matter how intense last night's mysteries were, by morning the city resumed its hustle and bustle like clockwork.

Under the bright morning sun, the city that had lain silent overnight rebooted swiftly from its pause. As always, life stirred from the quiet.

The streets quickly filled with people. The air buzzed with chatter. The stillness was gone, and shops opened for business as usual.

"Good morning, viewers. Welcome to today's early news. Compared to previous days, temperatures in our city will continue to drop this week. Citizens, please remember to dress warmly and stay safe."

"Yesterday, a gas pipeline explosion occurred beneath Fuyuki Central Park near Shinto Station. Fortunately, there were no casualties..."

"Regarding the recent break-in murders and missing persons cases in our city, Mayor Michizuki Himuro stated that these are extremely serious incidents with a profound impact. A thorough investigation is underway, and the perpetrators will be brought to justice without leniency."

"The Fuyuki Police Department also issued a statement: a week-long special crackdown operation is now in effect. Citizens are urged not to panic. Please avoid going out after midnight unless necessary, and refrain from lingering in areas without surveillance."

As Fuyuki's morning news aired on repeat, suited office workers still rushed about with tense expressions, briefcases in hand, racing against time. Some munched on quick breakfasts while chatting briefly with coworkers about the headlines.

The sun still rose. The Earth hadn't been destroyed. No aliens had invaded. The government still functioned. For the corporate slaves of Fuyuki City, it was business as usual. Urban legends were nothing more than dinnertime gossip.

"Hey, did you see this morning's news? The gas pipes under Fuyuki Central Park exploded."

"Exploded? Anyone hurt?"

"Not sure. The park's sealed off now. No official word yet, but the city maintenance crew's already investigating. Sounds like the pipes were old and, mixed with a bunch of random factors, leaked gas that caught fire."

"What a disaster."

"Yeah. Word is, even the church's graveyard was desecrated by some cult. The scene was horrific."

"Ugh... disgusting. Defiling the resting place of the dead—what, are they trying to perform curse rituals or something?"

"Tch. Delusional freaks. I hope the cops catch those lunatic cultists soon."

"Catching them won't fix anything. You think they'll actually get the death penalty?"

"Eh, who knows? The Minister of Justice is too scared of the anti-death-penalty faction to authorize any executions."

"Man, rumors are flying left and right lately. Who knows what's true anymore. Some folks are even saying pretty boys and girls are appearing out of thin air in alleyways..."

Ding!

The wait for the train ended. The salarymen exchanged brief looks, dropped their idle chat, and resumed their relentless workday pace without missing a beat.

In contrast to the corporate drudgery of overworked salarymen, the students were fully enjoying their youthful days. With fresh allowance in hand, they wandered the streets in pairs and groups, laughing, playing, and popping into shop after shop along the way.

Meanwhile, at Fuyuki's private Homurahara Academy—

It was the weekend. Dressed in his usual black uniform, Shirou Emiya walked down the corridor toward the classroom building with his school bag slung over his shoulder.

Classmates greeted him as they passed, and though it all seemed so familiar, Shirou felt an odd sense of dislocation—like he couldn't quite go back to how things were before.

It wasn't that he suddenly thought he was above others after becoming a magus. It was more a creeping anxiety. The miracle of his near-death recovery, the warnings from Rin Tohsaka and Kirei Kotomine last night, the Servants battling as if the Age of Gods had returned...

Especially the great fire caused by the Holy Grail War ten years ago. Every time he remembered it...

The burns on his body, his family consumed by flame, the hopeless despair of failing to save anyone, the cries for help, the blackened, twisted corpses etched into his mind—all of it rushed back, as vivid as if it were happening again. It choked him.

And more terrifying than all of it was that indescribable "black sun."

The Holy Grail... I have to stop it.

Clenching his fist silently, Shirou reaffirmed his decision. He had to speak to Rin later.

Lost in thought, he reached the entrance of the classroom building. Moving by muscle memory, he approached the shoe lockers to change into his indoor shoes—

"Yo, if it isn't Emiya...!"

Bump!

He had walked into someone.

"Oof—"

Shirou snapped out of it and took a step back. "Ah, sorry, I was spacing out and didn't notice... huh?! Shinji...?"

He looked at the boy in front of him—blue-haired, smug-faced, and instantly recognizable. Shinji Matou. The eldest son of the Matou family. Sakura's older brother. Shirou didn't know what to say.

"Ugh... You savage, you ran into me!" Shinji hissed, rubbing his shoulder.

"Shinji, don't start pointing fingers. You clearly walked into him first. Hah, trying to pick a fight and losing? Pathetic."

A bold female voice rang out behind Shirou and Shinji, heavy with sarcasm.

"Tch, Ayako Mitsuzuri." Shinji scowled. Accepting Shirou's hand to stand, he then slapped it away with a sneer. "Busybody woman."

"Excuse me? Who are you calling a busybody?"

The speaker was a striking girl with short, neatly cut brown hair and matching eyes. With her arms crossed, she gave off a confident, athletic vibe. "I'm a club captain. Looking after former members is completely normal, right?"

"Besides, Shinji, I saw you plain as day. You bumped into him."

Other students nearby, who had come to school for club activities, also nodded.

To be fair, Shinji had good grades (top five in the school), came from a wealthy landowning family, and wasn't bad-looking. He was quite popular among some girls.

But popularity is relative.

This was Shirou Emiya. The famously kind guy on campus, owner of a large traditional house. Not rich, but never lacking. He had strong ties with the influential Fujimura group.

There was probably no one at school who disliked him. Everyone held him in high regard and genuinely liked him.

As a friend and classmate, Shirou Emiya was undeniably ideal. Even to those with hidden agendas, once they got close to him, it became clear that he was someone you could count on. He'd cook for you, clean for you—help with any daily tasks. If trouble came, he'd stand up for you, even fight by your side.

If something happened, he'd be there. A true companion.

But being friends with Shirou Emiya came with a cost: you'd probably spend the rest of your life worrying whether he'd get himself killed saving someone else.

If you had the chance to befriend Shirou, most people wouldn't pass it up.

Maybe Shirou thought it was his own absentmindedness that caused him to bump into Shinji Matou, but from everyone else's perspective, it was clear Shinji had deliberately slammed his shoulder into Shirou.

He'd even wound up like he was charging into it.

The only problem? Shinji's scrawny frame was laughably weak compared to the physically well-trained Shirou.

Sure, Shinji had talent in archery, but he was lazy, skipped training all the time, and preferred to flirt with girls, hanging out in nightspots and indulging in shallow thrills. Deep down, his body was weak—overused and undertrained.

"Heh, so what? Shirou already quit the club. I hear he's been brown-nosing the student council president lately. Ayako, give it up. You don't stand a—"

Before Shinji could finish his jab, Shirou cut in with a cheerful smile.

"Ahaha~ Don't worry about it, Ayako. You know how Shinji is. If you need anything, feel free to ask. I've got something to do, so I'll get going."

"Tch..." Shinji scowled as Shirou slipped on his indoor shoes. The loathing in his eyes only grew deeper.

This guy… always like this. Doesn't he know how to say no? Never gets mad. No matter how many chores you dump on him, he never complains—just like some damn dog trying to please everyone. Disgusting.

But if it was someone you cared about... wouldn't it be fun to see you angry, to watch you snap?

Shinji's lips curled into a malicious grin. He was about to speak—

"Yo, Emiya, Ayako... Matou? Morning."

They turned at the sound of the voice.

It was the student council president: Issei Ryuudou. Wearing the standard school uniform, with short purple hair and round glasses, he gave off the refined vibe of a scholarly type.

"Hey now, Prez, what's with the tone? That pause, and the question mark?" Shinji snapped.

"Ah, my bad. I was just surprised. Don't you usually spend this time... with some female classmates...?"

"You little—"

"Morning, Issei," Shirou greeted with a wave, then asked, "Didn't you say you had to help at the temple this weekend? What brings you to school?"

Issei Ryuudou was the second son of the Ryuudou family, caretakers of Ryuudou Temple.

As his close friend, Shirou knew that Issei, now a second-year, was expected to inherit the temple and become a monk after graduation.

"Official business, actually. Mr. Kuzuki, who boards at my place, got into a car accident. I came to inform the administration. His younger brother will be subbing in for a while."

"Huh? Mr. Kuzuki got in a car accident? Is he alright?"

"He's out of danger," Issei replied, looking somber as he nodded toward the hallway. "There, that's the new substitute teacher who'll be filling in for Kuzuki-sensei."

The sound of heavy footsteps followed.

A tall figure stepped into view, drawing the attention of Shirou and the others.

"That's the new teacher?! Kuzuki-sensei's younger brother?"

The first thing they noticed was his frame, blocking the sunlight.

To be honest, the newcomer had an impressively masculine appearance—black-rimmed glasses, white dress shirt, plain necktie, and a formal suit. He certainly looked the part.

But his nearly two-meter-tall, towering figure stood out dramatically in Japan. Even the suit couldn't hide his explosive musculature or the overwhelming aura of intimidation he radiated.

Seriously, was this guy here to teach or to fight? Was he a rugby coach or something?

"Um, Issei... these people behind you are...?"

"Hello, I am Kuzuki... Soujirou. I look forward to working with you." The supposed substitute, actually one of Durandal's summoned auxiliary officers from the Empire, introduced himself.

Issei, of course, didn't bat an eye. Clearly, his memories had been tampered with via hypnosis.

At that moment, with cold sweat forming on his back, Shirou noticed two women standing outside the school building—completely out of place in Homurahara Academy.

They were impossible to miss. One, a gray-blonde beauty in a maid outfit, had crimson eyes and a flawless, doll-like face paired with a stunning, hourglass figure. The tight corset of the uniform only emphasized her curves.

The woman standing protectively beside her was even more eye-catching. Her aura alone was overwhelming. Shirou instantly suspected—she must be a participant in the Holy Grail War.

"Ryuudou Issei-san, does Homurahara Academy have a boxing club?"

Stepping forward in her black uniform, long ponytail swaying behind her, Durandal—going under the false name of Bianka Uralant Artagina—inquired with polite curiosity.

When they had taken over Ryuudou Temple, Durandal had discovered that the temple's residents had been under Caster's control.

Rather than harm them, she had ordered Medea to keep their senses dulled and fabricated new identities for them.

They were now posed as a branch family of the loyalist Artagina clan, come from central Europe to retrieve Souichirou Kuzuki.

"Ah... Miss Artagina, I'm sorry. We don't have a boxing club at Homurahara, but we do have karate, kendo, and mixed martial arts clubs. Would you be interested—"

"That won't be necessary. Please attend to your duties, Ryuudou-san." Durandal smiled gently and turned her gaze toward Shirou, who stood near the shoe lockers.

Hello, magus.

Shirou read the lip movements of the charming maid, and his expression changed instantly.

This was bad. He had to warn Saber and Rin. These people were Holy Grail War participants!

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