Fate: Konton no Tatakai

A/N: I think I'll take the advice I received in a review. These past few months have been pretty chaotic for me and I haven't had much time to write. As you'll notice, this chapter is a bit short compared to the previous ones and that's partly why I didn't want to make it too long. Fortunately, it covers everything I needed to cover and leaves me enough to be able to write the next chapter, with which we'll give a conclusion to this initial arc.

Again, a longer note awaits at the end of this chapter. With nothing more to say, let's begin.

Mandatory notice: The Fate series, its characters, and any elements of the Nasuverse present in the following do not belong to me. They are property of Type-Moon.

Clue:

'Thoughts.'

"Diálogo."

"Voz sobrenatural."

"Thaumaturge."

Í͕̟͓̈́͑ǹ͛͒co͎͉̍̐n̨̼͔̤̉ͮ͊c҉̘̪̟͉e̖͐b̬̝̪͢í̡ͣ̏̄̚bͤl̗͙͕̘͠ͅͅe̟̝͓̘̘͍̮ͤ̿͒ͯ̽̒̀ ̺͕̇ͪ

The unpleasant taste that had lingered in his mouth for a while had almost disappeared, making him feel significantly better. Shirou closed the door, silently thanking the master of the house once again for what he had done for him. While he still found the situation terrifying (and what child wouldn't, given his circumstances?), he was now certain that those words had been exactly what he needed to hear.

Perhaps they hadn't been delivered in the most sensitive way, but they were better than nothing. More importantly, Makihisa had been honest. Shirou doubted he could ever say he liked the man, but he could at least appreciate the help he had received.

The redhead blinked as he stared at the opposite wall of the hallway, where a simple yet ornate painting hung. To an outsider, he might have looked like he was admiring the artwork, but they couldn't be more mistaken. Shirou's ochre-colored eyes weren't focused on the soft, expertly crafted strokes on the canvas; he was looking beyond it.

The same hellish landscape. Ruined buildings, their foundations engulfed in flames, forming a veritable necropolis of scorched concrete and shattered glass. It wasn't long before the rain arrived, dousing the last remnants of the fire. But the damage had already been done—there was no undoing it.

Shirou narrowed his eyes as his mind fixated on the man who had stirred so many revelations and emotions within him over the past few hours. That initial wave of bewilderment still lingered, though its intensity had waned, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

He turned to the left and attempted to move forward—only to trip over something. A blur of pale red was all he registered before he tumbled onto something soft.

The thick carpet covering the floor muffled most of the impact, yet a soft thud could still be heard.

Shirou blinked several times, reacting instinctively, only to find another pair of amber eyes blinking up at him in response.

For the second time, he had tripped over Kohaku, and once again, they had both fallen. Except this time, he had quite literally landed on top of her.

Both redheads blushed slightly as they scrambled to do something before the situation became even more awkward.

"A-ah…" Shirou stammered. "I'm sorry. I really didn't see you there."

Kohaku, however, didn't respond immediately. Instead, she simply looked at him—an expression of amazement mixed with something else he couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, it only made him blush harder.

"You're a magician," she said, as though struggling to believe it herself. Shirou gulped, suddenly reminded that he was in a house deeply tied to the supernatural. He shifted uncomfortably under the red-haired maid's gaze as she repeated herself.

"You're a wizard."

"Um, not really…" Shirou muttered, finally remembering that he had arms and legs. He quickly pushed himself off of her and offered a hand to help her up. "I only know two spells, and I'm not very good at them. I'm sure you're much better than me."

Kohaku accepted his hand, standing up before tilting her head slightly in puzzlement. "Better at what?"

"In magic, right?"

But the only response he received was an even more confused look. Kohaku pursed her lips, as if about to say something, only for her gaze to suddenly shift past him.

From a distance, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed. Someone was coming up the stairs, and since they led directly into the hallway, there was no doubt they would be entering it soon.

Before Shirou could react, Kohaku grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

"Hurry up," she hissed, leading him toward a large flower pot. Pressing themselves against it, they peered cautiously over the edge, their heads barely concealed by the leaves of the plant.

Moments later, Shisui's red-haired figure came into view, walking calmly down the hallway. Despite his composed stride, his emerald eyes betrayed a hint of unease.

Kohaku's twin sister soon arrived at the spot where Shirou had been standing just moments ago. She raised a pale hand and knocked on the door.

She didn't have to wait long. A voice from within answered, granting permission to enter. Nodding to herself, the maid opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her, leaving Shirou and Kohaku alone once more.

"…He said he rang a bell connected to your room so you could come pick me up," Shirou murmured after several seconds, recalling Makihisa's instructions. Kohaku's eyes widened slightly—she hadn't been in her room when the bell rang.

What a coincidence.

"Did he tell you where you were supposed to go?" she asked, mentally marveling at her sudden stroke of luck.

"He told me to rest somewhere until my…" Shirou grimaced before forcing himself to finish the sentence, "father comes to pick me up."

His redheaded companion adopted a thoughtful expression before reaching for his hand again, pulling him along.

"Follow me," Kohaku murmured.

They crossed the hallway and descended the stairs, their footsteps unhurried now that they knew the house was empty. Kohaku led him down a narrow corridor that ended in two opposite doors. She opened the one on the right and gestured for him to enter before closing it behind them.

Aside from Taiga, this was the first time Shirou had ever entered a girl's room, which made him blush slightly. However, Kohaku showed no signs of discomfort as she guided him to a chair in front of her bed. Once he was seated, she climbed onto the bed herself, leaving him with the only available seat.

"So you're not a good mage?" Shirou asked, the first thought that came to mind. Kohaku blinked before realizing the source of his confusion.

"…I'm not a mage."

"Oh, so Makihisa-san doesn't have any other magicians as servants?" he asked curiously.

Kohaku gave him another confused look before snorting. "The Tohno family aren't magicians."

That revelation stopped Shirou in his tracks. His mouth opened slightly, his face now wearing an expression of sheer confusion. His understanding from just minutes ago had just been completely upended.

"B-but if he's not a wizard, then how does he know about them?"

"Just because they're not magicians doesn't mean they don't know about the Moonlit World," Kohaku replied. She blinked when she noticed Shirou's puzzled expression. "You don't know what that is?"

Shirou shook his head, prompting Kohaku to marvel at his honesty.

"That's the name for all of this," she said, gesturing vaguely. "The supernatural, the hidden world that exists alongside ours. That's what we call the Moonlit World, though I don't really know why it's called that."

Shirou nodded. "Then… what are the Tohno?"

Kohaku paused, her expression unreadable. Then, after a brief silence, she finally answered:

"They're not entirely human."

Her words sent a chill down Shirou's spine, the ominous weight behind them clear. But she didn't elaborate further.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Shirou swallowed, recalling Makihisa and the unsettling aura he radiated. The man had never been overtly hostile toward him, not even during their first conversation. Yet, Shirou couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability whenever he was near.

It wasn't something he could easily put into words. It was simply an instinct—a quiet but persistent warning urging him to keep his distance.

"Um… hey."

He turned toward Kohaku, who was fidgeting slightly, avoiding his gaze.

"Sorry for dragging you into all this…" she muttered, and Shirou could swear he heard something suspiciously close to embarrassment in her tone.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," he replied, trying to reassure her. But then his expression darkened slightly as a realization dawned on him.

"…I should be the one apologizing if this causes you trouble."

Kohaku's eyes widened briefly before she hesitated. Then, tentatively, she met his gaze.

"…Thank you."

He thought he heard her say it, but before he could ask, Kohaku shook her head and stepped forward.

"…What did Makihisa-sama say to you?"

Shirou raised an eyebrow at her sudden shift in demeanor, then frowned.

He had nothing to hide. And after everything that had happened, he felt he could trust her.

"Hm… well…"

The tension inside the taxi was unbearable.

Even the driver had noticed it. He chose to roll up the window, unwilling to get involved in whatever problems the two men in the backseat might have.

Judging by the exhausted look on his face when he had opened the door, this was likely his last trip before heading home after a long day. Kiritsugu noticed a ring on one of his fingers and wondered if he had children.

And if so, what did they look like?

Did they wait by the door to greet him with a hug when he came home? There was no way to know. The only thing he knew for certain was that everything had gone terribly wrong.

Seriously. What else could he have expected? From the very first day he had adopted Shirou, Kiritsugu had a lingering sense that bringing him into the moonlit world would be a disaster. But even so, he had never anticipated something like this.

Was it carelessness? Just sheer bad luck that Shirou had woken up and overheard everything? Sougen had apologized multiple times—before and after Kiritsugu had lost consciousness while trying to chase after his adopted son—but none of it mattered. The damage was already done.

The sheer terror and helplessness he felt upon realizing that Shirou had not only run away, likely in a panic, but was now missing... it was overwhelming. If not for Sougen physically restraining him—and years of hardening his own nerves—he would have stormed out of the clinic in a frenzy, desperately searching for his son.

After an intense argument that lasted several minutes, Sougen made a suggestion that forced Kiritsugu to stop and reconsider. The fact that the healer was willing to reach out to that man for help proved how serious he was about the situation.

Not that he was thrilled about seeking help from someone like him…

And then, things took an even darker turn.

A cold sweat ran down Kiritsugu's back when he heard Makihisa Tohno's voice on the other end of the call—not only speaking directly to him but also revealing that Shirou was with him.

For a few moments, Kiritsugu Emiya had vanished, replaced by the Magus Killer. But the killer was rusty. And he was up against someone holding all the cards in one hand—and Shirou in the other.

Which led him here.

A taxi. A destination he had no choice but to reach. The Tohno Mansion, where that man was surely waiting for him.

"Kiritsugu, we're here."

He turned to his right. Sougen had insisted on accompanying him as a mediator. At first, Kiritsugu had been tempted to refuse, but the more pragmatic part of his mind reminded him that this was the right course of action. He had no way of knowing how he would react. Or how that man would.

After paying the fare, the two men stepped out. The driver sped off almost immediately, as if eager to distance himself from whatever business they had.

Left alone on the sidewalk, they stood before the high wall encircling the massive courtyard of the Tohno estate. Kiritsugu cast a glance at the grand mansion before starting towards the entrance, Sougen walking beside him with a grim expression.

The pavement was still damp from the unexpected afternoon rain, but it wasn't slick enough to be dangerous. The wetness came from deeper within the estate, beyond the walls.

Everything about this situation was against him. Kiritsugu was unarmed—no conventional weapons, no magical ones—and he was walking straight into the lion's den. Even at his best, he would never have attempted to take on this man without meticulous planning, a full arsenal, and backup.

"Don't do anything reckless, Emiya," Sougen warned, eyeing the mansion with barely concealed disdain, as if offended by its mere existence.

They reached the portico and rang the bell. The door opened almost instantly.

A young girl stood before them—red-haired, green-eyed, dressed in a pristine European maid uniform.

"Good evening, Hisui-chan," Sougen greeted her. "Makihisa said he would be expecting us."

Hisui nodded but cast a wary glance at Kiritsugu. He kept his expression carefully neutral.

"Yes. He instructed me to escort you to his study," she said, stepping aside to let them in before closing the door behind them.

It was the second time he had entered this place. It was exactly as he remembered—grand, luxurious, steeped in history. Elegant. And yet, deeply ominous.

Only men like Kiritsugu—who had walked through battlefields, who had stood in places filled with death—could recognize what truly lingered here.

The stench of death.

The two followed Hisui up several flights of stairs until they reached a long hallway. She stopped at a large door on the left, knocked, and after a brief pause, opened it.

She gestured for them to enter.

At the center of the room, comfortably seated behind a grand desk, was Makihisa Tohno. His gaze sharpened the moment it landed on Kiritsugu.

Their eyes met—one dark, the other an unyielding gray. A silent clash.

But this confrontation would not remain silent for long.

"Give me back my son, Tohno," Kiritsugu growled.

Makihisa let out an amused snort.

"Well, hello, Kiritsugu. Now, is that really how you greet one of your former employers? And here I thought we got along so well." His tone was light. Mocking.

"I didn't come here to talk about that," Kiritsugu shot back, his patience razor-thin. "I came for my son. Nothing else."

"Oh?" Makihisa raised an eyebrow, reclining in his chair. "Your memory is as terrible as ever. I distinctly recall you agreeing to come here for a proper conversation. Something we obviously couldn't do over the phone."

However, Patriarch Tohno was still not finished. "Well, what an aggressive look you're giving me. It seems you haven't lost that terrifying presence of yours. It can still make me tremble." Makihisa then smiled. "I wonder, is that why little Shirou-kun ran away?"

Kiritsugu clenched his teeth and unconsciously took a step toward the desk, only for Sougen's firm grip to tighten around his shoulder.

The healer looked pale, but his anger was not directed at him.

"Ah, Sougen. It's been a while." Makihisa greeted, as if Kiritsugu wasn't directing his murderous intent at him. "I have trouble believing you actually came here with Kiritsugu. Does this engagement extend to all your clients? That must make you quite popular among them."

"Stop playing games, Makihisa." Sougen ignored the gray-eyed man's words. "We came, as we said. Where is Shirou-kun?"

"You really are no fun." Makihisa shook his head, before adopting a more serious stance. "The boy is safe and sound. I had one of my maids take him to a room so he could rest. Surely you can agree that after everything that's happened in the last few hours, he needs it."

"Where?" Kiritsugu immediately asked, only for Makihisa to answer right away.

"Come on, come on. Don't be hasty, Kiritsugu. Are you sure it's wise to barge in and disturb the poor boy?" Makihisa said mockingly, "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you so soon after everything that's happened."

"... He's right." Sougen replied, not pleased that he agreed with Makihisa. "Let him rest for now. He's not going anywhere."

Kiritsugu pursed his lips before sighing and reluctantly accepting what the two had said. However, his gaze remained firmly on Makihisa with clear intent.

The man didn't seem bothered in the slightest, and instead clapped his hands. "Hisui, bring us some tea." He instructed the maid who had remained silent in the background.

The redhead obeyed, quickly leaving the room and leaving the three men there. The place fell silent again as two of them exchanged glances, and the atmosphere became tense once more.

Black eyes, which conveyed a clearly hostile desire, met gray ones, which revealed how entertained their owner was.

Meanwhile, a third pair of eyes observed the scene with undisguised concern. Sougen had not come out of charity after all; he had come because there was a possibility the two men would escalate to more violent measures.

And seeing both Kiritsugu's state and Makihisa's nature, the outcome was more than obvious.

"Hmm."

Sougen tensed the moment he heard Makihisa's snort. The patriarch of the Tohno family kept his expression as he seemed to examine Kiritsugu, taking advantage of the man's proximity, and this did not reveal anything of what he thought.

His voice, on the other hand.

"I've missed that look," Makihisa said in a nostalgic tone, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them. "But it's weakened quite a bit. Clearly, you haven't used it in a while." The man shook his head in disapproval.

"You're getting old, Kiritsugu. Welcome to the wonderful world of parenthood. I guarantee you're going to love it."

"I thought I told you to stop playing games," Sougen interjected, showing some annoyance at the man's antics, who merely gave him a look that showed a hint of slight irritation.

Makihisa seemed ready to say something, but was interrupted once more — this time by Kiritsugu, to his surprise.

"What do you want, Tohno?" The hostility had not entirely disappeared, still lurking behind a thin veil of coldness. And it was enough to bring that smile back to Makihisa's lips, who removed one of his hands and placed the other on his cheek.

"I think I've mentioned it already," he replied pleasantly, his free hand tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk, giving the impression of a spider trying to tap dance. "I'm just looking to talk for a while."

Noticing that Kiritsugu remained silent but that his gaze conveyed the unspoken message that he could continue, Makihisa carried on without hesitation. "Almost a decade has passed since we last spoke face to face. The last time I heard from you was through a commission you did almost three years ago, and through Hisau-san."

Kiritsugu was certain that the other's eyes had been alert, searching for any reaction in his face to what he had just said. Judging by the faint gleam he thought he had seen — which he normally would have attributed to his imagination — it seemed that they had found something.

"You look rather pale, Kiritsugu," Makihisa observed. His right hand, which had been resting on his cheek, now kept his index finger on it, tracing an imaginary pattern on his skin. "And I'm not talking about the obvious signs of living in a rather cold place. No, the way you look reveals that you're not feeling too well."

Kiritsugu noticed that the drumming had stopped and frowned inwardly. There was something more, but he had no idea what the man was truly getting at. Choosing his words carefully, the former mage-slayer found the courage to ask instead.

"How much do you really know?"

The real conversation had begun.

She had heard that phrase many times on television, but even then, Kohaku had never fully identified with those who said it. But sometimes, things change too quickly—when one least expects it.

The day had felt truly endless.

What had started as a simple trip to buy snacks had turned into a distressing misadventure.

A stumble—a mere stumble—had been the catalyst for everything. It could have easily been avoided. If she had waited just a few more minutes, taking shelter from the rain under the overhang of a building, she would never have met him, she would never have dragged him here…

The anxiety weighing on her chest was just as confusing, leaving her unsure of how to process it.

The redhead blinked as she cast a tentative glance around her room. Unlike a few minutes ago, she was now inside it—and she was not alone.

The cause of everything sat in a chair, just a short distance away, looking at her with concern. A look she had only ever seen from her sister, yet this time, it felt… strange, for lack of a better word. Perhaps it was the familiarity of his features—so similar, yet so different from hers.

The fact that he seemed to be okay was a small relief. Especially after she found out that the man had rung the doorbell and that it had only been by chance that she had encountered him in that hallway…

A coincidence that had allowed her to hear just one thing from the conversation—one thing that had left her paralyzed.

Shirou was a magician.

A magician, just like her.

"…My father and Makihisa-san seem to know each other," her red-haired companion finally spoke. "He suspected we were related after hearing my last name. Once he confirmed it, he asked why we had come to Misaki."

Shirou hesitated, swallowing hard. Judging by the way he fidgeted with his fingers and avoided her gaze, she could tell he was struggling to decide whether to continue or not.

For a moment, their eyes met.

"Do you know what a bounty hunter is?"

Kohaku nodded. Vaguely, but she understood what he meant.

"Kiritsugu used to be one, and according to Makihisa-san…" Shirou's expression turned as bitter as his tone. "A rather brutal one."

The redhead blinked, as if to say, That's all? But it seemed Shirou wasn't finished yet.

"Also, Kiritsugu tried to stop me from learning magic, and…" For the umpteenth time that day, Shirou suddenly trailed off and looked away.

Kohaku didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Because if someone like Makihisa could describe another person in such a way, then that person was truly exceptional—and not necessarily in a good way.

Even so, she couldn't help but feel surprised.

Her knowledge of the moonlit world was limited, but she could piece together an idea of what Shirou's father had been involved in. It wasn't a pleasant image, and truthfully, she wondered how the other redhead could appear so… normal.

Almost normal, being the key phrase.

Still, seeing him so downcast stirred something in her—a desire to change that. And, unsure of what else to do, she said the first thing that came to mind, something she thought might be equivalent.

"I'm not a magician," she stated, causing Shirou to look at her again. "My little sister isn't either, but our mother was."

Hearing no response, she continued.

"The Fujou family was once a lineage of miko priestesses. Apparently, they could see the spirit world and use some magic, but their power gradually faded." The amber-eyed girl recited, trying to recall her mother's words. "By the time Mom left the family, they were already in decline."

"I'm sorry," Shirou said sincerely, his expression making it clear he meant it.

But Kohaku shook her head. She had never met them, and she owed them nothing. In her opinion, they didn't deserve Shirou's pity.

"Do you hate your father?" she asked.

Shirou shook his head. "I don't think so," he replied. "It's just that… even after talking to Makihisa-san, I still don't know what to think."

Then maybe I can help him, Kohaku thought, just as she was about to say something—when a low growl interrupted her.

She noticed Shirou's cheeks flush slightly before he glanced down at his stomach—the culprit behind the sound.

At that moment, Kohaku remembered—he probably hadn't eaten anything all day.

"…Are you hungry?"

Makihisa blinked, clearly confused.

"Know about what?" he asked in response, and many might have believed him. Unfortunately for him, Kiritsugu and Sougen were not among them. It wasn't the first time for the gray-eyed man, who wasted no time pressing forward.

"It must be something quite serious for you to come all the way here to deal with it—and with Sougen's help, no less," Makihisa continued, evoking the image of an avalanche seeking to bury the raven-haired man before he could even attempt to interrupt. "And of course, I doubt it's of a mundane nature."

"It's none of your business," Kiritsugu replied coolly, though there was now a cautious edge to his tone—one that didn't escape the notice of the other two men. That demon was a master at extracting information and, more importantly, knowing exactly how to use it.

Often for less-than-scrupulous purposes.

He needed to gauge the extent of Makihisa's knowledge while ensuring he didn't feed it further.

And as if reading his thoughts, Makihisa smiled before firing another shot.

"You know, I don't think I ever mentioned how little Shirou-kun ended up in my humble abode." The expression on the man's face couldn't have looked more magnanimous. "It was nothing more than a beautiful coincidence—so much so that even I was stunned that it happened today, of all days."

Truth be told, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel a strong curiosity about it and remained silent, allowing Makihisa to continue.

"It's quite the curious story. You see, one of my maids went out shopping and forgot to bring an umbrella. I imagine she regretted it the moment it started raining." He mused, waving a hand dismissively. "And then, your son accidentally bumped into her and offered her his umbrella. What a good boy—I'm almost surprised you raised him."

"And I'm surprised you were kind enough to let him stay in your house after seeing him," Kiritsugu shot back. "It's not as if you're known for your charity."

Makihisa scoffed. "Perhaps I would have turned him away if I hadn't noticed minor traces of magical energy on him. Given his hair color, I thought he might be related to the Aozaki family."

'That makes sense,' Kiritsugu thought. 'Even he wouldn't dare meddle with the true owners of this Spiritual Land. That would be suicidal.'

"So you took him in simply because you assumed he was a mage. I see."

"If you could even call him that," Makihisa chuckled. "I'm quite sure any self-respecting magus would be outraged at the mere suggestion of your son being considered one. Even those Sagara rats would weep at the thought."

That part hit like a punch to Kiritsugu. To be scorned by that man as well only deepened the insult.

Yet Makihisa didn't seem finished, judging by the smirk now playing on his lips. "Now, now. As I said, I found it extremely odd that you would adopt another child—especially as your own. It makes me wonder… where is Hisau-san? That woman was like your shadow. It truly makes a man like me curious about her whereabouts."

Kiritsugu clenched his teeth at the taunt. It was doubtful that Makihisa actually knew what had happened, but he couldn't be entirely sure. Still, he had let it slip on purpose—to gauge the man's reaction.

Well, two could play that game.

"I could ask the same about your wife."

It was as if a glass had shattered into a dozen pieces. The atmosphere in the room cracked, and the air tensed in reaction to Kiritsugu's words.

Sougen turned pale, taking a cautious step back. For the first time, Makihisa's smile vanished, replaced by an ice-cold stare directed at Kiritsugu—who met it with equal intensity.

Several long, silent minutes passed, stretching into eternity before anyone spoke.

"You haven't lost your fangs, then," Makihisa finally commented in a neutral tone. "Very well. Let's drop the pretense."

To say the other two weren't surprised would be a blatant lie. For Makihisa to be this direct was rare—extremely so. Neither Kiritsugu nor Sougen had a good feeling about it.

Makihisa turned to Sougen, who had regained some composure, but before either of them could say a word, a knock sounded at the door.

"Makihisa-sama, I've brought the tea," came Hisui's soft voice as she opened the door, her pale face appearing behind it.

Makihisa said nothing, merely nodding, and the maid took it as permission to enter. Carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups, she approached the desk, set it down, and bowed.

"Sougen," Kiritsugu spoke, surprising the healer. "Would you mind checking on Shirou?"

Sougen raised an eyebrow at the odd request, but Makihisa answered first. "Hisui, lead the way. You'll need to ask your sister where our guest is."

Rather than protest, Sougen noticed the way Makihisa and Kiritsugu were looking at him—both silently communicating the same thing. This was going to be a private conversation.

Truthfully, the healer had the distinct impression that the two men would end up clashing, perhaps violently. It would have been wiser for him to stay.

But on the other hand, there was the matter of the child—his patient—who was in questionable condition. His strict sense of duty compelled him to follow the request, even if he didn't entirely agree with it.

"Alright, try not to kill each other while I'm gone," he muttered dryly before turning to the maid, who looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but here. Hisui nodded and led the way to the door, Sougen following close behind before shutting it behind them.

Now, only two people remained in the room, their expressions mirroring each other as silence stretched between them. It was almost hypnotic, the way their gazes locked—unyielding, unwavering.

But nothing lasts forever.

In the end, it was Makihisa who chose to break eye contact.

"I needed to clarify a few things before we got to this," he admitted, his tone devoid of its usual sarcasm and mockery. "I still don't have all the details, but I'm counting on you to provide me with some of them."

Kiritsugu nodded.

Right now, he wasn't speaking with the man infamous for his cruel humor or the bloodthirsty beast he could be. No—he was talking to the unyielding businessman the world knew him as.

It wouldn't make things easier, but at least now, he knew how to navigate this conversation.

"I understand," he replied.

Makihisa nodded, opening a drawer in his desk before adding one last remark.

"Depending on how this goes… we may be able to reach an agreement that benefits us both."