From the corner of her eye, Aoi watched as the car disappeared from view. A slight feeling in her pained heart arose with relief, though it was accompanied by guilt. It was expected for a mother who'd just yelled at her child that was innocent of any crimes.
'Please… please grow up and live happily… Sakura…'
She didn't deserve to be called a mother for what she'd just done. But her child at least deserved better. Better than a magus mother like her could ever give.
"Are you done dealing with a troublesome visitor, Lady Aoi?" As soon as she entered her own home, the cheery tone of a handsome blonde greeted her like a veiled knife. "For a while, I pondered whether I should come to assist."
The European in his forties emanated a regal and noble air. But underneath all that pomp, a magus aristocrat eyed her carefully, studying her every move.
"There was no need, Lord Edelfelt." Aoi bit her lip, masking her sorrow with a polite smile. "Just some rude acquaintances that needed to be told to leave. You need not raise your hand for such pests, especially since you're my house's guests."
"Was it really alright, Madam Tohsaka?" another voice peeped from behind the man. His daughter, a spitting image of the lord except more like a porcelain doll, leaned in with a helpful tone. "You sounded distressed. Has our visit, perhaps, inconvenienced you so?"
Luvia, far more innocent yet also not, was expressing genuine concern. Unlike her father who only feigned it, it was pressure from a different angle. Yet, despite the younger Edelfelt's kindness, it was the older one she stayed wary of.
"You need not concern yourself, Luvia, dear. Now, how about some tea? You've both travelled all this way, after all."
"Tea would be lovely, wouldn't it, father?" the noblewoman smiled, seemingly letting the matter go. The father nodded as well.
"Yes, it would. Still, it wouldn't do for you to burden yourself any more than you should have, Lady Aoi. After all, it is why we of the Edelfelt household have come to Japan. To extend our aid to a fellow magi family of old."
"Yes," she persisted with the mask, trying her damn hardest to stop the tears. "And I am grateful for your timely arrival…"
She proceeded to lead them into their home's study, the section that wasn't blasted to oblivion during the war. Aiding in serving their guests, Rin came down at her insistence to have a chat with the girl her age. But even her daughter, merely a child, was well-aware of what this visit entailed and wore a polite mask just as Aoi.
To have lost not just her husband, but the Church that supported the Tohsakas as well, Tohsaka Aoi was left stuck between a rock and a hard place. With the death of Tohsaka Tokiomi, the matter of inheriting the family name was left to his progeny and the last remaining student, Rin. But due to her young age, she would have to wait until she was older to fully inherit her father's assets.
Normally, the guardianship would reside with Aoi and, as an added precaution, Kotomine Kirei would be made to manage everything until the time to pass it all onto Rin came. But… there was a problem.
With the death of Tohsaka Tokiomi, as well as Kotomine Kirei and Reverend Kotomine Risei, his family had lost the only ones who could protect them from other magi noble families in the immediate vicinity. The Church were old allies of Tokiomi, but only through Risei were they actually active in that regard.
In the aftermath of the Fourth Grail War and all the chaos, the holy organization was only able to act fast enough and assist their family in covering up the disaster. But beyond that, there was nothing they could do. Or rather would do.
Tohsaka Tokiomi is dead. Their connections to the Tohsaka mages, namely the Kotomine father and son pair, were also dead. The powerful families and lords of the Clock Tower smelled blood in the water, hence why they would come after the Tohsakas. But for it to be the Edelfelt family of all things!
Edelfelt, the hyenas of the moonlit world and the clan that had long since been a rival of the Tohsakas…
Aoi was well and truly pinned from all sides. She wasn't powerful nor as influential as her husband. As things stood, she had the resources and wealth to buy time for Rin to become a good magus, but not the power to fight off competitors in the meantime. Their status was always minuscule outside of Japan, and now, with the consequences of the war, it was far weaker than it had ever been.
They had no choice but to accept Edelfelt's arrival. It was only because she needed to get in their good graces that she bowed her head insistently.
In their current predicament, there was nothing she could do as they proclaimed their indirect ownership over Fuyuki and its ley lines… as well as her and Rin.
"Now, it may be a little early, but I wish to bring to your attention my daughter's idea for little Rin." Lord Edelfelt, the dashing gentleman as he was, pushed one of his key agendas forward whilst lounging about and sipping tea like he owned the place. "Luvia here has suggested that you and your daughter move to Finland with us. Considering the things occurring in Japan as of late, we fear for the safety of your family, isn't that right, my dear?"
His daughter happily nodded. She may be just glad to be of some help to a friend, but Rin could see further than the scion of the Edelfelt. Looking at her mother, she was wordlessly asking for her to protest. To resist this soft take over of her father's legacy.
However, Aoi already knew she could do nothing. She had no choice, and neither did Rin.
Surrendering to the Edelfelt puts Rin in danger. She cared not for herself, but the last thing she wanted was to put her child at risk. It was the same for Sakura. It was why she had to act as she did.
'I can do little to protect Rin, but I won't give up… I can't… … … I'm sorry… Rin… Sakura… But… this is the best I can do… to protect you… I'm sorry, Sakura. I'm sorry.'
The failure of a mother continued to smile like a doll. She continued to feign compliance… all for the sake of those she loved.
***
Afghanistan. 1994.
Merely a month has passed since the disaster that occurred in Japan, but life went on without a care for the rest of the world.
On the fringes of mountainous countryside, a shepherd stared off into the horizon. Minding the bells and bleeps of his flock, he spared a lustful glance to the north.
The invaders had long since withdrawn. The Red Army had vanished, collapsing alongside their great Union barely a few years back. And yet, despite the absence of foreign oppression, violence and war still ran rampant in his beloved country.
Just yesterday, he'd received word that his wife's father's hometown, a village just a day's march due west, had been razed to the ground. Its people, scattered to the wind by insurgents. Some more literally than others for many had been burned alive in living pyres.
Their reasons for such brutality? A firm refusal to join hands in creating a coalition government. All because it was sponsored by their Pakistani neighbours.
Such stupidity, such barbarism… was it not because of that short temperament that the rest of the world scorned their peoples as though they were animals? He didn't know. He rarely heard of news beyond the goings on within their borders.
For what reason would those living nearly half the globe away bother with such news as a city-wide inferno? When such was a weekly occurrence at home, did any even bother to pray for the unfortunate yet measly hundreds? More so when one had lost thousands in the span of weeks alone?
This old man did. He could still see their faces, remember their names.
Both a perk and con to being a descendant of nomadic sheepherders is that you had to familiarize yourself with those that chose to live along with the animals' grazing areas. Not just for posterity's sake, it was because it was just plain politeness to ask for permission when borrowing the land of others. However, due to traditions begetting such familiarity with others, the old timer had spent many weeks just praying for those he knew, those that had already lost their lives, and those that had their lives ruined by the chaos that was the civil war. Just like them, he too lost family, lost his wife.
Even he, a mere herder of sheep, could not escape the ravages of war that was kickstarted by the ruling clans. Even his kin was not safe. His kin…
A bleat of one of his many charges caught the old herder's attention. One of the young ones had wandered close to him and sought his attention. He sighed, finding only a small amount of comfort in scratching the ears of the meek lamb.
Today, he'd missed the opportunity to bade his son goodbye. Rather, the child had fled in the early hours before sunup for fear of his family caught wind of his plan. One to join one of the many revolutionary camps scattered along these mountains, hidden away and plotting to spark even more gruesome and pointless flames. If not to harm those that disagreed with him, it was to indirectly cause grief to the ones who loved him.
'That fool!'
Furious, frustrated, disgusted. The feelings of a man who'd been disrespected by his progeny, being called the coward for choosing the simple life and attempting to dissuade the lad that had been eager to fight, it burned him, balled his fists, made him want to strangle the very lamb he was caring for this very instant.
'… That… that… fool…!'
But the father about to lose his son weakened such a grip. The animal now resting its head in his lap coaxed the regret and sadness he'd hidden away from his remaining two daughters. Though, he suspected they already knew why he'd taken the animals out earlier than usual. Not to allow them an early graze, but to escape from the reminder that was his fractured home.
A tear escaped him, surprising the old timer who thought he had none left.
Sparing a glance to the hamlet he now called home, he spied the ruins just further beyond it. Once, there was another town here. Once, twenty summers back, it flourished with traders and herders alike. The memory was so vivid for it was around that time he'd met his beloved. Oh, the festivals, the dances, the joys and hardships they experienced in times long past… That was before the northerners came down from their snowy home in an attempt to subdue the local population.
But despite the peace, the Red Army's retreat brought, despite the newfound freedom they thought they earned after enduring so many years of oppression, the village that was founded on the first one's ashes remained a mere dusty shambles. Not even children came out to play for fear of being caught unawares by an attack from god-knows who.
BOOM
His eyes widened at the large sound.
There, in the very direction he'd settled his listless gaze towards, a plume of smoke and flames erupted from the far corner of the town.
BOOM BOOOOOM
DADADADADADADA
More sounds. Gunfire and explosions. Every fibre in his being caused him to jolt up, surprising the resting lamb on his lap. Thoughts of his herd fled to the back of his mind. With all the might he could muster, he raced towards home. Faster and faster, tripping on the rocky plains, he rushed back, praying to whatever god was out there that his family was safe.
BOOM
That is, until something exploded nearby and sent him careening helplessly to the side.
His vision was blurred, caked in dirt and something red. A touch to his forehead told him he'd been grazed by stone. Luckily, just.
His hearing was nulled. A ringing blocked everything, taking a while before he could hear the sounds of war ravaging his home once more.
In spite of his attempts at recovery, however, he could barely lift himself up. Looking down, he'd twisted his ankle. Blood liquid splayed beneath it told him he might even have shrapnel piercing a thigh and knee. The sounds of gunshots continued on, irrelevant of his injured and desperate state.
At best, he could only reach out, towards his family that was being set to the torch once more.
"O, god… please…" he prayed then. Even if it was only him, at least he prayed for the sake of his loved ones. "Please… grant us… a miracle…"
To let the old die but the young life. Even if he died pitifully and unremembered, let it be that his own didn't suffer the same fate.
"A miracle, you say?"
A new voice spoke. Glancing over his shoulder, the old man glared helplessly trying to find them. Were they friend or foe? Did they come to help or were they the ones to cause this mess? It was too dark and his old eyes couldn't see very well, especially not when drenched in his own blood. But then he saw it.
A flash of red erupted from the rear. The cause, a blood-haired woman wielding a curved blade. Said sword was none like he'd ever seen. Not even the pulwars of his ancestors could compare, more so when it was wreathed in otherworldly fire, as though the metal itself was immortal kindling.
But it was what the mysterious and violent flames illuminated that caught the elder's eye.
There, a man stood tall. Clad in dark purple, almost black, the figure wore a mask in the shape of a tulip. One in the darkest of purplish royal hue.
"You wish to be granted a miracle… however, I apologize. I am not the god you seek."
In his frantic confusion, the old man could care less. Struggling, biting back the bile and spit, he cried whilst pointing to the blaze that was his home. "Please! Save them! I'll… I'll do anything!"
Even if he must kneel to another insurgent, to another oppressor, so long as it meant they were saved—
"Worry not, you who seek salvation…" Feeling a gaze through the eyeless mask, he stared back as a hand was offered to him pleading helplessly on the ground. "For it is the sake of the weak, the sake of those who face injustice in the world that I raise my banner. That is… only if you swear fealty to my ideals, my desire!"
"I… we will do anything…" he rasped. The pain was numbing him to the vestiges of consciousness. The adrenaline of old age, wearing out fast. With the energy he could muster he accepted the hand. "Please… save us… Save them!"
The woman smirked while her masked companion laughed.
"Very well, I accept your contract." The masked figure took the elder by the hand. Such was the beginning of a new rebellion.
For the people asked to be saved, so it was that a hero arose from the ashes to grant them that miracle.
As for his name, it was…
***
Author's note:
UmU everyone and happy upcoming Padoru-Christmas!
This chapter is part of an arc that will cover stuff between two Grail Wars. So let's see what happened in this chapter: Shirou is adopted, Lelouch and Nobu are horny and thirsty for war, Sakura is adopted, Rin and her mother are adopted. Also, Afghanistan isn't here because of the recent world event or something...perhaps.
Also, in the last chapter, I showed my old draft for Lelouch servant skills I wanted to use for my old Fgo idea. In your review, some of you mentioned that it feels like I'm forcing the part of Lelouch's life moment when he geassed the God. I see your point. That info was my old draft that I might use to some degree in this story, but I will change things as time goes by.
No omake this time, even though I have a draft of Lelouch meeting GudaGuda crew, but re-reading it I noticed something. My humour is kind of cringe, Idk how to write a good comedy. I still have ideas for omakes about Lelouch in Fgo and Fifth Grail War, but I don't think I will post them after every new chapter like I originally wanted. Sorry for being cringe.
Also, for fgo players: I got Skadi! Had to do like 6 rank ups but I got her! Also, I hope everyone is enjoying Lb 5. I sure do!
No omake this time, but ReavesTheReader found something better for you. Knowledge:
"On the bit about Zero and tulips, I googled his design in the past and came up with something particularly interesting. I couldn't grasp it fully through my vague research, but I noted that the creators that designed Zero's mask codenamed it 'tulip' due to its shape. Less of a king chess piece, but then again, I think they designed the show's chess board around the already existing characters/ideas (e.g. look at the queen, it resembles a nun with a large flowing veil, kinda like C.C.'s origins of living under a nun, or the rook, it resembles a colony settlement's main administrative building, like a literal block of a castle). So it would appear that the king piece may or may not resemble Zero, especially in posture when Lelouch poses like a manakin and his cloak tightly wrapped around him.
In any case (long tangent aside), the thing I wish to point out is the nice coincidence that Zero's helmet is in the shape of a tulip, as well as the fact that Afghanistan's national flower is also a tulip. The tulip, or 'Laleh' as it's called in Persian, originated in the Persian Empire and is a floral native in the regions of Central Asia, namely Iran, Afghanistan, and Turkey.
Funny, right? The place where many rebellions start and end also just so happens to have the flower in the shape of a helmet of a rebel leader in a rebellion anime?
Also, tulips mean deep love, expressing his reasons for taking up the mask as a rebel being out of love for his sister and extending to love for the world when he chose to rebrand Suzaku's Zero as his usurper in the Zero Requiem.
Also, also, the colour meanings apply too. Considering Lulu's constant purple/black motif, it means royalty/power respectively.
Also, also, also! Black tulips are very rare, but the blackest of them all, darker than the Black Parrot species, is apparently called Black/Dark Hero. Coincidence? I THINK NOT!"
Thanks to ReavesTheReader for making us learn something new today.