Chapter 24 — Drive! (Edited) (Public)

A/N: Bit late. Sorry.

A/N: Bit late. Sorry.

“Humans are naturally social creatures, like it or not. We’re hardwired to mirror the emotions of those around us—laugh when everyone is laughing, cry when others are crying. Children? They lack the kind of self-control we have as adults.”

I say while pulling funny faces at the child, who is luckily already drowsy from all the tears.

“If the only source of comfort they have is screaming and crying alongside them, what do you think that teaches them?”

I shift my focus to the mom, who fidgets and rubs her arms awkwardly. “I get that you’re overwhelmed, but you’re the grown-up here. You’ve got to set the example.”

Subtly slipping the earphones over the child’s head, I trade seats with ‘Karen’ and settle back, my features relaxing in an instant.

I could have unleashed a barrage of quips, weathered the wailing out of pure spite, or chosen to help her soothe the little one to sleep.

One option would grant me the satisfaction of watching an insufferable person crumble emotionally, at the cost of our collective sanity;

The other would salvage the flight for us and everyone in the cabin.

As tempting as the former is, this is a 16 plus hour flight to Berlin, and I’d rather get my sleep.

Peeling open a sandwich, I take a bite, savoring the sustenance despite my usual distaste for the often overpriced, messy packaged food.

“Uhm… Hey?”

I glance over, meeting her gaze evenly.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we? You were a bit shorter then, but…” She trails off, uncertain.

“We have,” I nod, swallowing the morsel. “You gave me quite an earful too.”

“I- Uhm… I-“ She stammers, fidgeting nervously with her hands. As much as I am tempted to cling to the matter out of pure spite, I understand.

There have been days like that for me as well—moments when I had lashed out, only to later realize the other person was simply having a bad day.

It can be a bitter pill to swallow, but sometimes we have to acknowledge that the ones who hurt us may have been going through their own struggles.

I soften my gaze, the edge in my voice dissipating. “It's water under the bridge, but please do try to be more mindful going forward. All of us are tired from waiting for the flight—we really need the rest.”

“I know…”

She sighs, a tinge of defeat in her voice. “I just don’t know how to make her behave when she’s like that. I can’t control her emotions…”

“That’s the problem—you’re trying to control, when you should be aiming to influence. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that children are rebellious.” Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves. “You can belt them, scream at them, cry and beg and sure, that will deter bad behaviors for a time. But it’ll ultimately result in larger problems down the line.”

Leaning in slightly, I continue,

“Strict love is a hill I’ll die on.”

Then, after a moment of thought, I add, feeling just a tad more talkative than typical.

“Just don’t confuse abusive for strict. There is a fine line, and it’s pivotal you do not cross it… Ever.” I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head as I lean into my leather-cladded seat. "Well, that's my good deed for the day crossed off the list."

Her eyes suddenly widen with recognition. "Wait a minute, you look familiar... Weren't you on TV not too long ago?”

“I’ve gotten that a lot—”

“I think I saw you shaking hands with representatives and the prime minister! And weren't you in that Rangers movie I bought for my daughter?"

Seeing my attempt to brush her off fail, I press a finger to her lips, lowering my voice. "Shhh, do you mind, lady?"

But instead of heeding my warning, she just looks even more excited. "Oh my goodness, if I'd known it was you!" Pausing, she then adds with a tinge of amusement, "You know, you're a bit grumpier in person than you are on screen."

I roll my eyes, grabbing the headphones. "I'm an actor. I act."

She nods, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. "That's... Fair enough."

Just as I’m about to slip the earphones over my head, she continues, “My daughter really likes the role you play. Cheers every time you’re on screen.”

I pause, brows raised. ‘Huh, so that’s why her tears dried up so quickly.’

“Can you get her something signed? She’d be over the moon to know it’s from ‘detective kid’—”

“Please, never call me that ever again…”

I cut in, a grimace sweeping across my features, as I scribble my name on the kid’s baseball cap. “Here ya’ go. If I find that on eBay, you’re dead.”

The woman just laughs, believing I am joking. I am not—I know people… Bad people.

“But all jokes aside,” I say, “Do you mind if I take a moment to catch up on some sleep? I’m sort of exhausted.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry,” The woman says, bowing a bit in apology as per Japanese customs. “Uhm… If my daughter—“

I raise a hand gently.

“If she acts out, I’ll lend you a hand.” And interject. Let’s be real here—with a little one shrieking bloody murder right in my eardrums, there’s no chance I’m getting any quality shut-eye regardless. “Just don’t try to make a habit of foisting your parental duties on bystanders. The child’ your and your hubby’s responsibility.”

“Well, I’m all she’s got.”

Oh Gods, that wasn’t a prompt to open up about your tragic background, was it?

Now I feel obligated to ask…

“Is your husband not around?”

The words come out hesitantly, both hers and mine.

“He, uh, was a firefighter. Same blaze that put you in the spotlight—it took him too. We didn’t even live in Fuyuki. We are from a neighboring small town and he, well, he wanted to help.”

Dammit…

I pause, then offer a sympathetic look. “Hey, you know what might help take the edge off? How about a nice stiff drink—wine, maybe?”

A drink can’t hurt.

Thankfully, the remainder of the journey is relatively calm.

With her ‘hero’ by her side, the child no longer wails, so that’s a relief.

Disembarking the plane, I wave the pair one final farewell and head to the airport entrance to wait for Kiritsugu.

Yet even as I do so, my instincts are on high alert.

I’ve felt eyes upon me ever since that discussion with Angra Mainyu, but this particular gaze feels far more... Tangible somehow.

While the Daemon’s hostility emanates a general malice aimed at everything and everyone, this sensation is far more focused.

Either I’ve somehow landed on some kind of governmental watch list, or a Magus—most likely from the Einzbern—has caught wind of our arrival the moment we touchdown. ‘Were they waiting at the airport?”

I ponder, though quickly file that away as a rather unlikely possibility for a few reasons.

‘Is Kiritsugu having the same issue?’ I muse, brow furrowing slightly in concentration.

Oozing nonchalance, I prop myself against the wall, letting out a low, appreciative whistle as I clock in the Magus Killer lugging his arsenal around a column.

Rather than drawing attention, I bide my time, letting him saunter past as our gazes cross in an unspoken accord.

Any lingering grievances between us must be set aside for the moment.

“Real warm reception we’re getting…”

They say Germans are a kind people, but being greeted this warmly at the airport? That’s a new level of welcoming.

I trail a step behind Kiritsugu, blending discreetly into the bustling crowd, yet keeping him within my peripheral vision—just in case.

As the Magus Killer strides through the main lobby, the lingering eyes upon me seem to vanish entirely.

’Underestimated, am I?’ I muse, a faint smile playing at the corners of my lips.

‘Good.’ Then they won’t see what’s coming.

Though the Einzbern wield considerable power, even they would not dare provoke an altercation in the middle of an airport. There are still higher authorities to whom even they must answer to.

Trudging through the bustling throngs, I suddenly collide with a person who even I cannot knock over. “Apology, child.”

Lifting my gaze to meet the man’s eyes, I’m awestruck by the sight of his snow-white hair and angular features.

My mind immediately shifts to the Einzberns, but his hair is more of a weathered grey compared to the pure white of the homunculi. If that weren’t enough to clue me in, his eyes have a… Beastly quality, more animal than human.

In Nasuverse, those with inhumane traits are often not human at all, not wholly at least—a fact acknowledge by even the local scientific community.

It’s rare, kind of like albinoism back on Prime Earth.

“You are—!” I blurt out, catching myself just in time as I watch the way his lips curl into a toothy grin.

“You know me, Reincarnator?” His eyes twinkle. “Or was it Transmigrator, I can’t seem to differentiate the two for the life of me…”

The Apostle Ancestor prowls around me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “I knew there was something a bit off about you, you know. Your kind aren’t exactly a dime a dozen in this neck of the Kaleidoscope. But if the big shots upstairs are involved…”

He lets out a boisterous snort. “I suppose anything goes, doesn’t it?”

“Zelretch…”

The Apostle bows grandly “One of Infinity, at your service!”

He declares. “But I’m afraid the matters we need to address will have to wait. You have someone you must attend to, do you not?”

“You gonna come along?”

I invite, cautious but not subservient.

In my literary explorations—the 5000 fanfics I have saved in my bookmark, ehem—I’ve found Zelretch to be a Loki-Archetype.

The proverbial Trickster God of the Kaleidoscope, if you will.

Remember kids, the odds may be infinitely slim, but one should never discount the possibility of a Vampiric Troll kicking down one’s bedroom door and unleashing the fury of the Kaleidoscope upon one’s unsuspecting ass. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. The Magus Killer’s just too serious for me.”

The Apostle Ancestor has a point.

Kiritsugu Emiya’s brand of humor tends to err on the drier, more understated side.

The kind that elicits a wry smile that creeps across one’s face after a minute trying to decipher the joke.

I can see why these two wouldn’t get along.

They probably don’t in most Timelines.

“Go, those stuffy Einzbern are following closely behind him.”

“Talk later?”

The Apostle inclines his head in acknowledgment. “Naturally.”

Then, he steps aside, allowing you to pass. “Tread carefully with them, Leo. The Einzbern are not a forgiving lot—and their leader is even more stubborn in his way.”

Brows furrowed in contemplation, I scan the crowd for the Magus Killer.

‘Since when, exactly, did Zelretch decide to place me under surveillence?’ The thought unsettles me.

Just how is he managing to peer through [Veiled], and to what extent?

He doesn’t seem hostile, which means it can only be entertainment he’s after.

When one wields the power of a Demigod or the eternal vitality of an Apostle—especially one as powerful as a Sorcerer, the need for novel entertainment rises exponentially, and such amusement can only be found in two rare places—grand upheavals and crises, or the emergence of ‘heroes’…

I’m using the term very loosely here, as Nasu-Sensei intended.

Though the most pressing concern is: ‘Does he know of the [ToI] as well?’

I’ve been painstakingly meticulous in concealing the System from prying eyes, refraining from voicing its workings aloud, and even keeping it a secret from the Golden Queen which was no small feat, not with her A-Rank [Charisma] bearing down.

The System—useful as it is—can be considered a Sorcery Trait that may earn me thr most unpleasant of fates amongst the Supernatural.

‘Can the [ToI] even be passed on?’

Observing the Magus Killer flagging down a taxi, I too try to wave for one. Keyword: Try, ‘cause no one seems to take the ‘midget’ very seriously… Neither the Einzbern nor the taxi drivers.

Seeing his about to take off, I step in front of a cab, which skids to a stop as the driver pokes his head out, screaming what I assume are the worst profanities imagineable in German.

“I need you to covertly follow that cab.”

He looks ready to object, but quickly swallows whatever rebuttal he had when I produce a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills.

“Drive, and this is all yours.”

“You American?”

“British.” I reply, voice even.

“Hmm, you don’t quite sound it… And you’re using dollars, not pounds.”

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I groan. “What, is my fucking accent not up to your standards? Do you want the money or not?”

He gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know, this doesn’t exactly look like enough to cover for spy-job.”

This greedy bastard.

No wonder so many pharmaceutical giants have German ties!

Instead of arguing, I try to flag another cab.

I may be in a hurry, but I ain’t no fucking sucker.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’ll drive you.”

My expression turns sharp, a subtle smile playing on my lips as I directly halve the offer.

‘Bro really thought he could finese me?’

You don’t hustle the hustler… It seldom ends well, and on the rare occasion it does, rest assured that the hustler has a list of methods to make one’s life Hell afterward. “Take it or leave it.”

“F- Fine!” He snatches the money from my hands, his expression more wretched than a beggar’s.

It must sting to watch money slip away like that, but that’s on him. “Get in! Gieriger Amerikaner!”

‘Well, fuck you too!’

“Remember, be covert.” I remind, climbing on the cab.

Staring like a hawk as Kiritsugu leans out the cab's window, lighting a cigarette.

The gesture is a tacit signal that he will instruct the driver to proceed at a slower pace, allowing us to lure the homunculi into the open. “Why’s a kid spying on people anyway? What, the CIA running out of money or something?”

I meet his gaze evenly. “Did I forget to mention the money covers: ‘No question asked’ fare as well?”

He scoffs, ”Pissy, aren’t you?”

But my eyes remain fixed on the passing street outside the window. “Call it however you want.”

That’s when a car suddenly drives by. ‘A black van… Really?’

I note with a furrowed brow, almost snorting at the cliché.

“[Stay until I come back!]”

My eyes briefly lock with those of the homunculi, and I can’t help but smile.

Without hesitation, I push the door open and leap onto their van.

The driver shrieks, slamming on the brakes as I had instructed while I fly on the roof and punch through the thin roof, purposely missing my mark. “Toodle-loo, motherfucker!”

I was hoping for something cool—a Spell, perhaps, but all I get are fists.

‘Boring…’ Musing in boredom, I cave in the van’s roof with a swift kick and effortlessly hop inside.

The homunculi attack me from all sides, their movements almost sluggish in comparison to my own.

Even the cursed Kiritsugu surpasses them handily in speed.

In all honesty, I can’t help but feel a certain fondness for the Einzbern.

They are a House of dedication and commitment, if I could persuade them to work with—or rather, ehem, for—me…

Sadly, their conflict with Kiritsugu makes that prospect rather unlikely.

Displaying just enough strength to lower their guard, I slam one of the homunculi against the door, blood splattering across my skin as half of its face is demolished upon impact to reveal the skull beneath.

Simultaneously, I kick the seat in front of me, causing the van to slam to an abrupt stop as we’re thrown forward by the momentum, heads colliding with the seats / windshield in front of us.

A homunculus charges at me, slamming me through the door, but the impact’s largely deflected by my [Kinetic Shield], while we all scramble to regain our footing in the dessert, coated in dry sand and dust that are simply gross to the touch. “Leonis Magnus? We’ve heard of you—”

The homunculi echo like a hivemind, which they probably are, given how similar they look.

Homunculi as expressive and unique as Irisviel or Illyasviel are not cheap to make…

Even Leysritt was only so human because she had an imperfect Soul implanted.

The creepiness factor asides, how do they know me?

I’ve been on missions before, but there are probably thousands of active assassins-for-hire out there, many of which’re Enforcers I reckon. No way they’d be able to support their lifestyle and Magecraft otherwise… Furthermore, the death of a Magus or two outside the Tower isn’t exactly earth-shattering news.

One only achieves legendary status like Kiritsugu when they’ve amassed an extensive body count—not that body count, you fucking degenerates—by killing indiscriminately.

Most Enforcer Houses tend to get paid off or warned away when a hit is issued.

But the Magus Killer?

He'll take any job he can get his hands on, and be completely uncompromising even when contacted.

Compared to his notorious exploits, I’m likely just a blip on their radar—the kid who frequented the Emiya Residence, if I’m even registered at all. “On account of your age, we’ll give you a pass. Leave Germany this insta—”

A gunshot rings out, blowing the homunculus’ head in a rain of blood, gore and chunks of brain.

It's like watching a watermelon being dropped from the 5th floor… Mesmerizing.

‘I’m so gonna steal the Walther 2000 after he dies.’

Not like Shiro will need it.

Following his example, I too pull out Equality, making short work of the rest of the homunculi—one has his torso melted; one his legs blown right off; and the last his shoulder. He crawls towards me, mumbling a string of sheer incoherency like a glitching radio, before getting finished with a stomp to the head.

I wave for Kiritsugu to wait, then return to my cab.

The driver glares at me, spitting, “I fucking knew it! I knew you were an American!”

I open my mouth, tempted to protest, but ultimately decide against it.

We have a long day ahead, and I truly have no patience for quips at the moment.

“[Forget everything you just saw.]”

Walking away towards the cab Kiritsugu’s on, gun plopped on the car window, I pull open the front seat and sit next to the driver, who looks pale white. “Was zur Hölle war das?!”

“None of your concern, now drive.”