Fool's World: The Sun (ch. 17) (Patreon)

"Rider, stay here," I told Rider, looking at Goro Majima. Rider tilted her head at the order, sizing him up just as he was sizing her up. "This doesn't involve the Grail War at all."

"If that's your desire, then I won't argue. However, I am allowed to deal with threats outside of the Grail War. Any threats to my Master can be eliminated, regardless of who they are," Rider made a point, offering Majima a predatory smile. To that, Majima cocked an eyebrow, seeming to understand that Rider was a lot more than just a pretty face.

His dark brown eye went to me, a silent question in his gaze. His posture made it clear that he was ready for a fight, but his expression told me he didn't expect there to be one.

He was right. "I know," I confirmed, stepping away from Rider, tucking my hands into my pockets. "This is my business and I want to deal with it myself." I could feel Rider's gaze on my back as I stepped past Majima, leaving the house to see that the door was flanked by a dozen people on each side that led up to the front gate.

"Do your best not to die, then." Rider offered as an encouragement as Majima followed me out of the house.

"Ya really ain't the same guy," Majima remarked to me, striding out of the gate with me, shoulder to shoulder. I might have wondered where exactly I would be going, but the trail was pretty clear. The men flanking the path went on further than the front gate. The road was blocked off with a half dozen men, all dressed in sharp suits wearing blocky sunglasses as they stared ahead dispassionately.

Looking to my right, I saw that the men flanking the road went on a lot further. Another road was blocked off further up the street, the streets were completely devoid of traffic and the sight of at least a hundred Yakuza thugs blocking off the road made foot traffic pretty scarce.

Majima didn't remark on them as he continued walking without missing a beat, each step unusually loud because the city of Fuyuki was holding its breath. I eyed the Yakuza for a moment, following after Majima with little hesitation, but the further I walked, the more I saw that the men went on and on.

"Not really," I admitted, feeling the gaze of the Yakuza as we passed them by. The more I had learned about my past self left me feeling increasingly disappointed with myself. "Would I have tried to run?"

To that, Majima snorted a laugh, "Ya' would have booked it tha' moment ya' saw me. Tail between yer legs, and I would'a had to drag ya' kickin' and screamin'," he said with a dismissive shake of his head. He spared me a glance, leaning his head back a bit and turning it so he could get a full look at me with his one eye. "I thought ya' were actin' a bit off the last time I saw ya'. Figured it was nerves at the shit show ya' started. But ya' really can't remember a damned thing, can ya'?"

I shook my head, continuing down the road to see even more Yakuza flanking the roads. There had to be hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe. And I had a sinking suspicion that the sight wouldn't change until we reached my execution grounds. "I don't. I've been getting the blanks filled in, though."

"Have ya'?" he questioned, looking away from me.

I had. "I get why the Yakuza wants to kill me. No one wants to kill past me more than me," I admitted. I hated him. He was a weak-willed, spiteful coward that only cared about himself. Who would take shortcuts even if he had to make a deal with the devil himself. "I'm responsible for the Yakuza imploding. It wasn't an actual plan, though. It was a final fuck you to you all if I ever died. Or lost my memories."

"Ain't that a bitch," Majima sighed. "Ya' figure out how ya' lost them?"

"I took a shortcut," I answered distastefully. Touko seemed convinced that I had lost my memories in the transformation into what I am now.

Majima just shook his head, "Ya' really ain't the same person," he remarked, his voice twinged with disbelief. We continued on, deeper into the city. Roads that were normally busy as hell were completely devoid of a single car. There were some crowds on the other side of the wall of Yakuza. People looking on frightened and confused by the sight. The last they knew, all the Yakuza were imploding on themselves in the most spectacular fashion.

Part of me didn't like that I was hearing that. That part of me was hoping that there was something that I was missing. That I was missing one important piece of context that would make all my past actions suddenly make sense in hindsight. The rest of me was glad that I was nothing like my past self. I didn't want to have anything in common with him beyond a name and a face. It's why I was walking with Majima instead of fighting or running.

If past me would have run, then I would stay. If past me would be a coward, then I would be brave. I wanted nothing to do with my past self, even if my life was defined by his mistakes and actions.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry. I only found out about the geas when I found my house. By that time, it was too late," I offered. Majima was silent for a few steps before shrugging his shoulders.

"Meh, ya' got nothing to apologize fer as far as I'm concerned," he decided, making me raise an eyebrow. He shrugged in response to it. "Ya' was a real brat. I couldn't stand ya'. A sniveling lil' shit that expected tha' world on a silver platter cuz of yer family. A puffed up chest of a thug, but with no spine to deserve it. Hated ya', in all honesty."

That was disappointing to hear, even if I expected it at this point. Majima continued a second later, "But, I don't see 'im in you. Yer an idiot in tha' same way I am. Shit, makes me feel bad. How fuckin' terrible was I as a guardian that ya' end up a better man without me raisin' ya'?" I didn't have any reassurance for him there.

According to Kirei, for all of his faults, this was who I was. This was my true self and I had decided to embrace it. I don't know what it was that had changed me so thoroughly, or if it had been a million different things, but I was glad that baggage wasn't there to shape my personality anymore. I had no idea if Majima was to blame for how I turned out, but I suspected that he hadn't helped.

"How are things going on your end? From the looks of it, your family is still going strong," I remarked as we walked through the heart of the city. There was no end to the Yakuza, and they acted like an impenetrable wall. There were thousands of them.

To that, Majima shrugged. "Ain't too bad. Ya' killed Shimano," he informed me.

"Oh. My bad?" I questioned, eying Majima more carefully. "How?"

"Car bomb," Majima answered dismissively. "Not how he deserved ta go out, but ya' usually don't get what ya' deserve." he shook his head as a sigh escaped him, "Ended up pickin' up tha' pieces since I knew about yer whole Magi business. Most didn't. Now, the Majima family is stronger than ever before." He didn't sound too particularly happy about it. It sounded more like a remark about the weather.

"Are you independent now?" The Tojo clan had imploded. I don't know how it could survive what I had done to it.

Majima nodded, "Yup. The Tojo clan is gone. So is the Omi Alliance. Ya' changed our world, Lil Majima. Ain't no goin' back now."

I continued to follow Majima, walking with him step for step, processing the information. That meant that no one was urging him here. He stood at the top of the food chain now. It was his decision to come here. He had decided that I would die for my crimes.

"I'm not going to die so easily," I told him, already knowing what I would find when we arrived at our destination.

"Be pretty disappointed if ya' did," he answered. "You ain't him. Not really. Ya' going to try to get off the hook?" he asked me, sounding like he expected it. In response to that, I was silent for a long time as we walked. I didn't have a ready answer.

We made our way through the city, and I knew our destination. The Church that overlooked the city. Coincidence or not?

I was silent for so long that it's gates were in sight by the time I opened my mouth to finally answer the question. "No, I'm not," I decided. "At the end of the day, I still benefited from my past self's decisions. Even if I wish that I didn't," I admitted.

I had benefited. I wouldn't have met Touko without my past self arranging the meeting. If he hadn't, then I wouldn't have any kind of preparations for the Grail War, I wouldn't have met Shirou, and I very likely wouldn't be the master of Saber and Rider. I wouldn't have the equipment or resources that I did without his money.

The deal with Angra Mainyu was a terrible one, but I had benefited from it. From three magic circuits to nearly a hundred. My body was physically stronger and it would grow stronger still.

I suffered for his mistakes, but I also benefited from his successes.

"I'm not gonna run when it comes time to pay the piper," I decided as the gates were pushed open by some Yakuza. "That's what he'd do, and I don't want to be anything like him. But, I'm not just going to roll over and die." If I had to pay the price, then I had to do it. I wouldn't flinch at the cost. I just didn't have it in me to get on my hands and knees and accept my ending. If I had to fall into my grave, then I wanted it to be while I was on fire and swinging for the fences. Better yet, falling in the grave with the bastard who killed me.

I didn't see Kirei, I noticed as we came to a stop in front of the church. As far as I could tell, there was no one here. Majima looked to me, a glimmer of sadness in his eye. "Ya' don't gotta explain. I get it. In the same boat, really. Years ago… eh. Made a decision that ended up badly for me and my brother. I wasn't there when he needed me. But, I got a second chance and I decided to make the most of it because I know that I have to pay the price for my mistake. Didn't choose to make the mistake, didn't wanna make it, but it happened all the same, and I gotta pay for it one day."

Majima reached to the sleeve of his snakeskin jacket and with a single motion, he pulled it off and flung it into the air, letting the wind catch it. His pecs were covered by red and black tattoos.

Cool. I thought, my hand reaching up to my own sleeve, gripping it and the sleeve of my white undershirt. With a single motion, I tossed both of them off, leaving me bare chested before Majima as he stood a few feet across from me. There was a dangerous smirk on his face and an almost proud look in his eye. I said nothing to him as I settled in a familiar stance. Majima did the same as someone tossed him an aluminum baseball bat that was polished to a shine.

"Ya' beat me? You get to live," Majima decided, surprising a few of the Yakuza that made the ring around us. "But, ya' gotta earn it."

That was the reason I followed Majima here. I couldn't say that I knew him well, or even at all, really. But, I knew it wouldn't be his style to put me on my knees and put a bullet in my head. Instead, he was giving me a chance to live. To survive. All I had to do was take it, and I would fucking take it.

By some unspoken signal, we both launched into action at the same time. He darted forward, holding his bat high as I approached, my hands clenched into fists as I went to punch him in the stomach. The bat descended, aiming for my head, and it nearly got me before I pivoted sharply, deftly dodging the attack as I spun on my heel, launching myself into the air, to lash out with a kick. The back of my heel was stopped cold before it could reach him as Majima blocked the kick with his bat, his crazed grin growing by a fraction, before pushing me back.

I pushed down, kicking out with my other foot, only to find that he had leaned out of the way, his bat shifting as I fell to the ground, then thrusting out like a rapier when I landed. I narrowly avoided getting my nose bashed in by leaning back, looking up at the metallic surface as it passed by my eyes. In that moment, I knew what was coming even before it did, so I was prepared for it when I felt my legs get kicked out from underneath me, my hands flying out to break my fall before I pivoted sharply on them to lash out with my legs.

The bottom of my foot caught the shaft of the baseball bat, Majima blocking the kick. My legs darted out, making him give up ground as I sent a flurry of kicks at him, my arms providing the leverage as I kicked out from every angle that I could, the hard stone giving way under my palms to soft grass and dirt. The entire time, Majima deftly deflected or blocked my kicks, forcing me to do the same when he lashed out in lightning quick attacks that caught me on the shin or foot.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed up with my considerable strength, using the bottom of my foot to catch the bat and guide it away from me. As I clenched a fist, ready to bring it down on him, Majima shifted his grip on the bat, his hand going to the opposite end while the handle was thrust up, nearly catching me in the chin. Instead of trying to punch him, I caught the pommel and kicked out again, my foot catching him in the forearm.

"Not bad," Majima decided, flipping his bat with style and resting it on his shoulder. I took in a deep breath -- He was good. Strong. From what I saw, Kuzuki was probably the better fighter, but that was because he went for kill shots only. There was no give or take like there was in this little dance.

Digging my foot into the soft grass, I sprung forward, meeting a swing head-on. Clenching my hand into a fist, I punched the surface of the bat while lashing out with a kick, only to have Majima stop it cold, his foot catching me by the ankle. When that foot hit the ground, I pivoted, going into a roundhouse kick as I leaned out of the way of the swinging bat that nearly slammed into my temple. Majima caught the blow in the ribs, accepting it so he could toss his bat into his other hand and bring the bat down onto my collarbone despite my attempts to block.

The fight was heating up. My collarbone throbbed with pain, not quite broken, but it definitely hurt. All the same, I stepped forward, throwing a punch at his face that caught him in the cheek, snapping his head to the side. I took another step forward, intent on following up the attack, only to find myself blocking a high knee to my abdomen, which turned out to be a distraction because Majima slammed the shaft of the bat into my face, treating my nose as if it were a ball he was bunting.

Hot blood gushed out of my nose, which I happily made him pay the price for by hooking my leg behind his and sweeping his leg out from underneath him. My other hand slammed into his ribs hard enough that I received a grunt from Majima, and before he could take another swing from his awkward positioning, I punched him again in the face. His head snapped back, but it wasn't a clean blow. He threw himself back, rolling to his feet.

I pressed the attack, throwing up a leg before bringing down an axe kick that he caught by the shaft of his bat. A trickle of blood dripped into his goatee, staining his white teeth red. "Ya' ain't goin' for my blindspot," he noted, pushing my leg up as he rose to his feet. Instead of backing off, I leapt up, kicking at him with my other foot, only to have the bat slam down, diverting the blow.

"I imagine most people go for your blind spot," I retorted, leaning my head out of the way of a thrust of his bat, nearly feeling the unyielding metal on my ear as I dove in, planting a fist in Majima's gut, the impact reduced when he caught the blow with his gloved hand. He swiped at me with his baseball bat again before lashing out with a kick at my ribs, which I accepted in exchange for the chance to kick at his ankle. The baseball bat found its tip being planted into the ground, being used as leverage as Majima used the momentum to kick at my head, forcing me to back off.

"All the dumb ones," Majima agreed, letting me roll to my feet. We had exchanged a few decent blows. It was hard to say which one of us had gotten the worst of it, but given that I was blocking a baseball bat with my bare hands, I would say that I had. Which was why it was surprising when Majima let the baseball bat fall from his gloved grip. He made a fist and slammed it into the open palm of his other hand before he struck an odd pose, his legs bouncing back and forth as if he was dancing to an unheard rhythm, his arms wrapped around himself.

Before I could analyze the stance any further, Majima darted forward. He threw himself down, his head nearly hitting the ground before his legs struck out at me. He fought exactly like me, I thought, catching a kick with my forearm, then another at my ribs. Or, rather, I fought exactly like him.

I dropped to the ground, moving to sweep his hands from underneath him, only to find myself blocking an axe kick with my shin. I lashed out with a kick in retaliation, only to find it diverted. We traded a dozen blows at a lightning pace, each blow diverted or blocked, our counters being countered and those counters being countered in return. We fought through the ring, once again finding solid stone under our hands as we tried to get a leg up on the other. Each blow I blocked, I felt the power behind.

Majima was strong. The kind of strong that I hadn't felt in the thugs that I fought periodically. The damage that was being done with each blow was accumulating, even with my healing factor helping me out. I imagine that Majima was feeling it too, because I was just as strong as he was.

It left a bad taste in my mouth as I flipped to my feet, prompting Majima to do the same. I knew that this was a fight for my life, but I didn't like that my healing factor was giving me an edge. It felt unfair.

"If you want a fair fight, then we should end this soon," I told him. "I have a healing factor, now. It gets stronger the more I'm injured."

Majima snorted, "Yer saying that I'm too old to keep up, ain't ya'?" he questioned, flipping up to his feet. For a moment, I saw the tattoo that completely covered his back -- a Hannya mask with a black and white backdrop, red flowers, and two coiled snakes.

"Pretty much," I agreed, settling in a familiar stance. Majima scoffed with a shake of his head, but he seemed to prepare himself all the same. As one, we closed the distance between each other, each throwing a fist that stopped cold when they slammed into the knuckles of the other. I threw another punch with my other hand, only for it to meet the same fate, stopped cold by Majima's other fist. I met his gaze for a brief moment before leaning my head back.

It was the first time I had butted heads with someone who was as hard-headed as me. My forehead crashed against Majima's, both of us headbutting the other. There was a flash of pain, but it wasn't enough to stop both of us from breaking off, leaning back as we prepared to do so again, before clashing foreheads with a painful thunk.

I grit my teeth, once again pulling back, any thought of throwing a punch or a kick knocked right out of my head. Again, Majima and I headbutted each other, a jet of blood erupting where our skin tore. I met his gaze, finding it every bit as unyielding as mine was.

So, it was no surprise that he went in for a fourth headbutt that I returned with full force.

Then a fifth one.

Then a six.

A seventh.

An eighth.

Majima and I stood across from each other, slamming our heads together with all of our strength. It felt like my skull was going to cave in by the ninth headbutt, and by the twelfth, I stopped counting. Again and again and again, we slammed our heads together, blood dripping freely down both of our faces, like two bulls locking horns with each other. I didn't want to be the one that gave ground, or took advantage of the repeated move. It felt too much like cheating against him, and I could imagine he felt the same way.

Or, so I thought. I went to headbutt him again for what had to be the twentieth time before I suddenly felt a hand on my chest pushing me away. Given that I had the mother of all concussions, I fell flat on my ass, my sense of balance obliterated. My mouth opened to protest, only to catch a flash of movement above me before a splash of blood followed.

My eyes went wide when a familiar ray of pink light blasted through Majima's gut, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Majima!" I shouted, springing to my feet to look behind me, finding Caster floating above, a deep frown on her lips as she looked down at us all. "Get him out of here!" I snapped, and to the Yakuza's credit, they launched into action.

However, Majima pushed them off weakly. "Don't go… worryin' about me, ya' brat. I've already… decided who's gonna… kill me," he muttered as the Yakuza made a wall of bodies to protect their boss. I didn't reply as I glared up at Caster, finding myself wishing that I had killed her when I had the chance.

"Go," I snapped at the Yakuza. They wasted no time getting Majima out of here, but Caster waved her hands and blasts of energy formed around her as she floated above.

"They must be slain," Caster remarked. "Else they'll weaken Mystery even further." It was an idle observation, sounding like she didn't care one way or the other.

"I don't care," I snapped at her, wishing I could fly like she could. Majima had just saved my ass, probably. And a hole that big in the gut was a dangerous thing. He had to get his hands on Avalon, or he wasn't going to make it, no matter what he said. "Get down here, Caster. I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

Hearing that, her lips quirked up into a sly smile, but I noticed that she didn't start raining holy hell down on the Yakuza that fled. "Men of this age don't know how to speak to a lady, but I should expect nothing less from a boorish brute like yourself."

"I tried to reason with you before, Caster. That alliance is off the table," I told her, considering my options. Servants were forbidden to be on the Church grounds -- not just because it was a place of mediation, but the bounded field here specifically weakened Servants. Caster wouldn't be fighting with her A-game. But, that was mitigated by the fact that she could fly and I couldn't.

"For attacking your enemy?" she questioned, sounding genuinely curious.

"For interfering in my fight," I corrected. Majima had left his baseball bat, and it was nearby, but I wasn't sure what good it would do. The only way I could beat her was if I got close. The Command seals weighed heavily on my hand, tempting me to call Saber or Rider to help me. I still had two left.

However, that thought was put to an abrupt end when I saw the front door to the church open to reveal two figures. Lancer, who wore a deep frown on his face as he shouldered his ruby red lance as he trailed behind another familiar face.

"Kirei," I greeted the priest who wore an easy smile. This… was pretty bad. Majima, I suspected, knew about the bounded field at the Church and chose it in case I got my Servants involved. It wouldn't have been enough to save them, but it would have been as good of a choice for a battlefield as any. I was outmatched by one Servant, but two?

"It's good to see you again," Kirei said, sounding like he meant it. "This wasn't what I expected when you took me up on my invitation, but it was an amusing sight nonetheless."

This was bad. Very bad. If I used a Command Seal to summon a Servant, then it would be a two on one fight. To even out the fight, I would need to summon two, but then I wouldn't have any Command Seals at all.

I didn't expect Kirei to be the master of Lancer. I should have, in hindsight, given I knew that he let the Grail be fucked, but I figured that he was still the master of Gilgamesh. Getting double teamed by Caster and Lancer wasn't something I was prepared for.

"Is this why you sent me that invitation?" I asked him, my eyes darting to the baseball bat between us. The only weapon that I had available.

"Not specifically," Kirei dismissed. "I wished to have a discussion about Angra Mainyu with you -- but, I have decided that it is no longer necessary. You've provided too tempting an opportunity, I'm afraid." He almost sounded regretful of the fact. Lancer narrowed his eyes as his face twisted into a deep scowl, not at all happy with the situation. "Shall you summon your Servants? It would cost them their lives, but it would mean your escape."

He read my mind there. If I summoned two Servants to meet him, then I wouldn't be a master any longer unless I stole more Command Seals. Worse, without Independent Action as a Skill, both Rider and Saber would vanish soon after I summoned them. But, summoning one would leave me with one Command Seal, leaving me as a master, but that one Servant was almost guaranteed to die.

I would be trading my life for someone else's. And that rubbed me wrong in all the wrong ways. Especially when someone would be dying because of my dumbass mistake.

“I refuse,” I told him bluntly, blood dripping down my chin as I spoke. His smile fell ever so slightly, while behind him, Lancer stood taller. To live, it was my only feasible option. However, if I completely discounted the idea of surviving this, then I had a whole lot of options when it came to pissing down on Kirei’s parade.

“Are you so eager to die?” Kirei questioned, seemingly perplexed by my decision to not choose either Rider or Saber to save myself.

I shook my head, a dismissive scoff escaping me. “You lot keep yapping about shit I don’t care about,” I told him bluntly, making Kirei tilt his head ever so slightly. “There’s more to living than being alive.”

“I see,” Kirei uttered before he pulled up one of his sleeves, my eyes widening ever so slightly when I saw that he had a sleeve of command seals going up his forearm. A quick glance told me that there were at least five of them, with more further up his bicep. He held his arm up, displaying them to me, “Lancer,” he spoke, his tone still amused, “Kill Mikoto Majima with a single blow.”

“You…” Lancer spoke, stepping forward as he held his spear with white knuckles. His brow furrowed as he seemed to be fighting the command seal, but despite his efforts, he still readied his spear, which gleamed in the early morning sun. “I don’t mind killing him. Just let me fight him first,” Lancer gritted out between clenched teeth.

Kirei chuckled as I readied myself, “After he is dead, hunt down and murder every member of the Yakuza that were here.” He continued, and a drop of crimson blood dripped from Lancer’s bottom lip from how hard he bit it as another Command Seal was tossed on top of the first. There was a delight in his tone as Kirei spoke that seemed directly proportional to the anger that found itself on my face. He was forcing my hand. Trying to, at least.

“Kid,” Lancer told me, settling in a stance, “Sorry about this. It’s not how I wanted to kill you.” There was anger in his voice and regret in his eyes. He meant it. He was cut from the same cloth as Majima, I think. The three of us were a special kind of idiot that didn’t often come across fellow morons. I felt a bit bad about it. I owed Lancer my life. When we fought, I wanted it to be a good fight.

I tensed, taking in a deep breath, and savoring the sensation of my lungs filling with strangely sweet air. I saw the exact moment that Lancer began his attack, but it was impossible to track it. He was simply way too fast. Honestly, if there was going to be a fight, then I wouldn’t have lasted much longer than this anyway.

A split second later, I felt a sharp pain in my chest as the tip of Lancer’s red spear was buried in my heart. My blood felt hot as it gushed down my chest and stomach, and based on how I felt it running down my back, the spear had completely skewered me. I was glad that I had taken that breath because it suddenly felt like my lungs were filled with blood, my heart trying to pound out of my chest, but it couldn’t.

I was dying.

“Saber… Rider, protect the others,” I spoke, blood making it up to my throat as I activated the last two command seals. The maze on the back of my hand shifted, the inner portion twisting into place before the Persian words around the maze vanished. That command should give them both the time needed to form a contract with a new master. Probably Shirou and Rin.

Lancer, who had looked even more bitter about the situation than I had, suddenly gave a wolfish grin. “Not bad, kid,” he spoke, pulling his spear free of my chest. I coughed and it felt like a gallon of blood erupted from my throat as I fell to my knees. You got so used to your heartbeat, that when it suddenly vanished, it was so apparent. My vision grew hazy and my head suddenly felt so very heavy.

As my vision started to dim, my gaze landed on the back of my hand. The maze was still there, oddly enough. No… it was more than that, I saw as a black dot in the middle of the maze began to grow. It consumed the walls of the maze until the maze itself was little more than a pitch black void. When it had, the void began to grow before something began to spill from that void, pouring from it as if the void was connected to an ocean of black sludge.

It splashed over Lancer’s feet, making him hiss as he backed away, the black sludge spilling out until it covered my legs and began to crawl up my arm. “Curses? What-” he began, but my hearing failed me. The black sludge was curses? They hurt. Honestly, they hurt more than being stabbed in the chest, or nearly getting my head caved in from a headbutting contest. The sludge seemed to stab every pore with a needle and dig it in, seeping into my body.

It hurt. It hurt so damn much.

But, it felt so very familiar…

“Ahh…” I uttered before the sludge crawled up my chest and into the gaping hole where my heart used to be. “That… explains it.”

Why I was so unlike Mikoto Majima. It was so damn simple in hindsight.

It’s because I was never Mikoto Majima in the first place.