Chapter 7

Brushing his teeth, Emiya glared into the mirror, his reflection glaring back at him—a face he despised with every fiber of his being. It was perhaps the greatest source of discomfort in his current predicament. Not the experience of being trapped in a child's body with the mind of an adult. Not the condescending treatment from people far younger than him. Not even the disorienting diminishment of his combat capabilities.

No, it was the face. A constant, cruel reminder of the boy he loathed—the boy he had once been. Having to endure being called by his forsaken first name was bad enough, but seeing Emiya Shirou's face first thing every morning was an insult he could barely stomach.

Splashing water on his face, he wiped it dry with a towel, gritting his teeth. He left the room, heading for the training grounds, to see if his sister was truly committed to joining him for their morning routine.

And there she was. The moment he opened the door, her crystal blue eyes met his, as steady and unwavering as ever.

"So, you were serious after all, huh?" Emiya said, his tone somewhere between pleased and uncertain. He had mixed feelings about it, but if nothing else, training her body could only be beneficial to Tanya's well-being.

"When have I ever been anything short of serious regarding my commitments?" Tanya arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know. I remember someone promising her grandmother to be a good girl and get along with other kids. Next thing we know, a gaggle of toddlers is running away from the sandbox, crying and screaming 'Endbringer,'" he drawled, as they started walking.

Tanya tried to maintain her cool demeanor, but Emiya noticed a slight flush rising in her cheeks. Really, she was too fair-skinned to hide her embarrassment.

"They were throwing mud at me, and I politely asked them to stop! It absolutely wasn't my fault that a simple stern glare sent them into a panic," she argued.

"I suppose some children are indeed too sensitive."

"You would know, mister 'I make girls cry,'" Tanya shot back at him.

"Ah. You know it wasn't my fault. Monica just took my rejection a bit too hard," he winced.

"There is such a thing as letting a girl down gently, brother."

"I did. I explained to her, that little girls shouldn't think about such things. How was I supposed to foresee she would take it as a personal attack on her looks?"

She was small and petite, yes. Because she was a child. At the age of twelve she was supposed to worry about her grades, not executing a female version of kabedon on him in the school hall and telling how she could show him better time than Julia. The whole thing escalated into her bursting into tears and him being called to the principal's office. Apparently, some of Monica's friends bragged about "making out with Emiya behind the school", and Monica decided to make a bold move on him out of misplaced jealousy.

Emiya was frankly shocked by the development. People often talk about how quickly children grow, but he was absolutely certain nothing like that ever happened during his first time in middle school. Or at Homurahara, for that matter—not with people propositioning publicly, at least. Was it simply because children in 2011 were drastically different from his time, or was it a matter of American sensibilities? There was no way Monica realized how her actions could be misconstrued. Personally, he chalked it up to differences in timelines—and the ever-present existential threat. He had also resolved to keep a closer eye on Tanya.

"I suppose you were reasonable," his sister allowed, "But then so was I," she stressed.

Internally, Emiya chuckled. Tanya was always the one with the comeback. It took effort to win an argument with her.

The Wards training area was a special facility adjacent to the general PRT training area. From what Emiya learned by asking troopers conducting their own training, he was supposed to use the general area for general fitness purposes, but parahuman abilities were practiced in a special room, specifically designed and reinforced for that purpose.

But that was for later. First, he made Tanya do some stretches, which she completed quickly and efficiently.

"Loosening your muscles is important before every training session, sister. Otherwise, you might get cramps," Emiya instructed.

"I'm quite familiar with the theory of basic warm-ups and endurance-building exercises," she answered, performing a standing toe-touch.

"Hmm, I can see that. Did you learn it in your gym class?"

It really felt like she was quite familiar with those. She correctly performed each exercise, working on the right muscle groups.

"Some of it. I also did extensive research on the topic in my own time."

Did she really study the theory for her gym class? Tanya had always been studious—her straight-A report card was the testament to that—but this was perhaps a bit excessive. Still, Emiya supposed there was no harm in additional education.

Case in point, after finishing her stretches, she immediately went for the running mills.

In life, Emiya rarely engaged in running as a way of building endurance; training with swords was an adequate replacement for that. Distance running was less important to him than familiarizing his body with a multitude of swords inside his Reality Marble. Being able to wield someone's sword with the skill of the original owner was, unfortunately, hazardous for a body that simply couldn't withstand certain movements. A lesson learned through torn ligaments and pulled muscles.

Which meant that he had to go through similar training again. There were now a lot of swords in his arsenal that Emiya couldn't handle, even with a Reinforced body. Another peril of being deprived of a Servant container.

Still, running was useful for Tanya, so he joined her.

Drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, his sister had to stop just shy of the 4-kilometer mark.

It wasn't bad for a child, but she seemed frustrated and sullenly did more stretching, waiting for him to complete the 10-kilometer course.

"Don't pout, Tanya. I'm older and have been training longer than you," he tried to lift her spirits.

"I'm not pouting!" she barked, still cooling down from her exercise. "I'm just frustrated that I haven't been training until now. I should've joined you much earlier."

"You're nine years old. It's generally better to let your body develop before starting a strenuous training regimen," Emiya pointed out. Sure, he'd been training at that age, but his Structural Grasping ability allowed him to judge how much his body could take.

"I could've handled it at eight," Tanya stubbornly argued. Sighing, she looked around. "Should we head to the shooting range?"

Yes, his little sister could now shoot a gun like a red, white, and blue American. Emiya just waited for it to go horribly wrong during testing, but at least her 'Thinker power' came with an adequate trigger discipline, besides making her quite the marksman.

He shook his head. "Later. For now, we should focus on your blade."

"Why?" Tanya asked, she looked at him in askance.

"It's a blade that can cleanly cut through steel. One wrong twitch of your wrist and you could find yourself short a leg," he explained.

Tanya clearly didn't appreciate his comment. "I assure you, Shirou, I am quite proficient with my Mage Blade. Harming myself with my own weapon would be a display of gross incompetence." She looked up at him, her eyes cold.

"I've seen you fight. You can use it in battle; I'll grant you that. But it wasn't swordsmanship, not in the slightest. You just cut through your opponents, banking on the fact that your blade would meet no resistance. Tell me honestly, can you use your blade as a swordsman could?" Emiya asked.

"I know fencing," Tanya frowned, a little defensive.

"Then why didn't you use that at the mall?" he raised an eyebrow.

"That... was an unexpected situation," she hesitated for a moment. "I decided rapid strikes were preferable to proper sword form. Which, if you remember our opponents, was the correct decision. They were too numerous and had forsaken all defense, leaving us outflanked. Controlling the central line is impractical, if not outright impossible in such a situation, where your opponents don't care if they die," she said, her confidence rising with every word. By the end, she was practically challenging him to find any fault in her reasoning.

Unfortunately for her… "And what are you supposed to do, being a fencer who is outflanked and facing multiple opponents? That sword style is particularly vulnerable to such conditions."

"If I had more resources, I would have struck them with an artillery barrage or, more realistically, multiple precision optical formulas, since you were right in the middle of it. That would've been the fastest way to resolve the conflict," she answered. "However, the point remains that I had to work with what I had at the time. So, I engaged the enemy in melee, assuming they lacked any outstanding defensive capabilities, which I could confirm by judging the effectiveness of your falchions. I stand by the fact that it was the correct tactical decision," she concluded, her voice resolute.

"The correct tactical decision was to run right in, screaming and mindlessly hacking at them like a Berseker?" Emiya asked, making Tanya flinch.

"And what do you think was the right course of action, Shirou?" she challenged him frostily.

"To run," he calmly met his sister's gaze. "At any point of that fight you could have run. You shouldn't have even joined the melee, but even after that there were numerous opportunities to retreat and escape."

"We have won, the results speak for themselves. And I wouldn't have left you to fight by your lonesome," Tanya's tone hardened even further as she bit out the words. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto his, but Emiya ignored them with ease.

"The results are that I had to dance around you, covering for your relentless assault. I did my best, but I had to prioritize and some blows fell through. Were either of us just a bit slower, any less skilled, and you could have died."

"You are speaking of theocraticals, Shirou," she snapped, her tone tight with frustration. "There are countless 'what-ifs' and 'could-have-beens' on the battlefield. None matter except than the fact that it was a victory."

"Victory?" Emiya asked with derision. "Remind me – how did it end?" If he hadn't spotted the source of the clones, they would have eventually overwhelmed them. Well, not really. He would've just responded with a barrage of blades, but Tanya didn't know that.

"With us being alive at the end," she answered stubbornly, "And let me remind you, that we wouldn't even be in that fight, if you hadn't decided to play hero and stay to protect Jouster!" Tanya, jabbed her finger into his chest.

"Who?"

"Oh, don't pretend, Shirou!" it was her turn to speak with derision, "Jouster was right there on the floor! You just had to protect your favorite hero, didn't you?!" she shouted, eyes blazing.

"What are you talking about?!" Emiya had lost his composure.

"I am talking about how I had to jump in and save your life because you didn't care about the consequences!"

"You were being irrational!"

"You acted like a self-sacrificing fool!"

They shouted and flinched at the same time.

After a brief, tense silence, Tanya narrowed her eyes at him.

"If you are so sure of your competence, brother, why don't you follow me to the sparring area?" she challenged.

Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the ring.

"Very well, sister. If you insist on doubling down on your mistakes, then I'll I would have to oblige," he climbed into the ring after her.

Perhaps humbling her a little would teach her the dangers of throwing herself into combat without hesitation.

As they stood opposing each other Tanya manifested her energy construct. He responded with projecting Kansho and Bakuya. As the testing had shown, the Married Blades were conceptual weapons, able to withstand parahuman powers—though to a lesser degree than they could mundane weapons. Or perhaps it only applied to Tanya's 'Mage Blade'. They hadn't tested it fully, but it wasn't important right now.

His Tracing did not work on her 'Blade' but it didn't matter. In his mind's eye he could already see how this confrontation would go: her initial assault, feral but experienced. All he had to do was to trap her 'blade' and target her vitals with a powerful strike.

Just as they were prepared to engage, they were interrupted by a running figure.

"What are you two doing?!" Miss Militia screamed. 

A/N

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