When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Cairo, Egypt.

In our world, there are plenty of places to disappear: tropical islands, small mountain towns, quiet backwaters far from prying eyes... Kiritsugu himself preferred the temperate climate of Japan, which made the dry, arid atmosphere of Cairo burdensome for him, especially considering the style he adhered to in his clothing.

One thing was certain, the Magus Killer knew exactly where to go. Otherwise, he would have long since gotten lost, and considering his popularity in certain circles, that could have ended very badly. Moreover, by the time he reached the hotel built in Arabic style with Shirou, Kiritsugu had noticed several people observing them. Even though it was unsettling, he decided not to take any action. He had no interest in drawing attention.

Taking a deep breath, the Magus Killer entered the familiar building, always lively, even if it was not easy for ordinary mortals to get in.

— Oh, Mr. Emiya, – a smiling Arab in light, traditional clothing approached them, which Kiritsugu looked at with slight envy, discreetly wiping the sweat from his forehead. – Welcome back to Cairo!

— Baragga, – the older Emiya greeted him.

— I see you're not alone today, – the Arab pointed to Shirou. – You must be tired from the journey? I can arrange a room and clothing for you...

— I need Sif Ferro, – Kiritsugu gently interrupted him. – He's here, right?

— "Catalan"? – Baragga asked with undisguised surprise. – ...I hope you remember the rules?

— Don't worry, I'm just here to talk.

— Hmm... Alright. You're right, he's here at the moment. I'll let him know you wish to meet. In the meantime, please join us at our bar...

— Shirou, stay here and don't talk to anyone. I need to step away, – the boy nodded silently in response, and Kiritsugu moved to a free table.

Taking out a cigarette, he studied it for a moment before bitterly smirking, lighting it, and settling in to wait.

— Well, well, what a joke: "A dead man walks into a bar..." – he turned at the voice to see its owner sink into a chair across from him.

It was a stocky, tall man with ashen hair. Dressed like an ordinary tourist, Kiritsugu felt the keen gaze of a professional killer studying him from behind the dark lenses of sunglasses. With a sour smile, Sif Ferro leaned back in his chair and continued:

— So, what brings you to Cairo? Business or something more personal?

— Business, – Kiritsugu replied, extinguishing his cigarette. – And no, I'm not here for you.

— Phew, that's a relief... the last thing I needed was a bounty on my head, – Sif glanced around the hall out of habit. His attention was predictably drawn to Shiro, who stared at them from a distance. – What a familiar face... Who is that boy?

— My son.

— Ha... remind me not to introduce him to my niece, – the killer said with a smirk, but Kiritsugu noticed the insincerity. Sif was surprised but tried not to show it, and if the Magus Killer didn't know him well, he might have believed in the authenticity of that grin.

— He's ten... – Emiya stated, almost lazily, with irony.

— So what? We're talking about your son! You're pretty much every woman's dream: handsome, intelligent, brooding... and a former hired killer to boot. I can't remember all the women who were smitten with you back when we crossed paths for work, and there were quite a few... And you think I would believe he didn't inherit that? Especially considering your resemblance.

— Are you don? – Kiritsugu asked with a smile at the end of this tirade.

— Yes. So what were we saying? Ah yes, business... And what did you want to discuss with me?

If there was anyone in the world of hired killers who could compare to the Magus Killer in skill, it would be Sif Ferro. The difference was that, unlike Kiritsugu, he carefully concealed his identity. Very few had seen him in person, and the vast majority of mages considered him a sort of myth. Like Emiya, Sif preferred to take on only difficult and seemingly insane contracts, which he executed with incredible perfection.

— I suppose... you've heard about my involvement in the Holy Grail War?

— Of course, you're somewhat of a celebrity now... Rumor has it you even managed to acquire it before everything went to hell.

Despite the war's notorious reputation, it and its participants have always been a frequent topic of conversation and rumors. Naturally, the fourth war was no exception, and once Kiritsugu was involved, the hype only intensified.

The rumor that he emerged as the winner of the war was among the most popular. Nothing had been heard of the other participants, and he himself vanished after the catastrophe in Fuyuki, so many assumed that the "Mage Killer" faded into obscurity along with the Grail.

— Well... I wouldn't put it that way, but those rumors aren't too far from the truth, – Emiya sighed.

— Is that so? But I get the feeling you'll explain that vague statement, right?

And Kiritsugu told him everything. How the Grail chose him as a victor, how this elusive "wish-granting" entity was corrupted, holding All the Evils of This World within itself, how he rejected its offer and commanded his servant to destroy the Grail.

— Hmm, that's not something you hear every day, – Sif laughed nervously, but Emiya sensed the insincerity in his emotions again.

Given the nature of their work, they often heard tales of yet another apocalypse, but those stories were typically either ridiculously exaggerated or the ramblings of deranged mages. Sif could differentiate truth from fiction— it was foundational to his line of work, without which one couldn't remain in business for long. But now he believed every word, and "Catalan" simply found himself at a loss for words.

— I think I need to drink more... – he said, filling his glass with gin he had brought.

— Now imagine how much I'll need to drink to wrap my head around this...

— Hey, sweetheart, – Sif interrupted, addressing one of the waitresses. – Bring us two bottles of your strongest stuff.

— Do you think that'll be enough? – Emiya asked with a sad smile.

— For starters? Quite so... By the way, it's strange you haven't gotten drunk yet.

— I'm just as surprised...

— Uh-huh... So... the Grail became a Doomsday device, and you destroyed it. Then what?

— Then a quarter of the city turned to ruins... – Emiya replied slowly, recalling the events of that dreadful night that still haunted him. – And I was cursed by Angra Mainyu. And this curse is slowly killing me.

— Oh for heaven's sake... – Sif exclaimed, no longer hiding his astonishment. – Holy shit, I was just joking...

— Yes... a joke is only half a joke... – Kiritsugu confirmed with a grim smile.

— Has anyone ever told you that a woman named Fate hates you?

— There was no need... – he replied absently, looking into the empty glass. – That's essentially why I'm here.

— Want me to help you get rid of the curse?

Besides his work as a mercenary, Sif was well-versed in the culture of the Near and Middle East. This was one of the reasons why, upon hearing about Angra Mainyu, he understood the severity of the situation. Of course, he couldn't call himself an expert, but he was certainly capable of providing some assistance.

— No, – Kiritsugu shook his head firmly. – I've long since come to terms with that fact. Honestly, I care the least about my own death right now. Considering everything I've done... I think it's even fair.

The Magus Killer response shocked Ferro, to say the least. In the world of mages, death was a common occurrence. The overwhelming majority of mages could kill anyone without a second thought if there was some benefit to gain. Some would forget about it over the next breakfast. Sif was no exception.

But... hearing the Magus Killer say he deserved death was a rather unique experience.

— Then I've completely lost track of what's going on...

Instead of answering, Kiritsugu pointed in Shiro's direction.

— The kid? You came because of him?

— Yes, I started teaching him magic.

— Really? That's quite unexpected. You can't exactly be called a fan of the mage's path.

— True, but he showed incredible determination in convincing me.

— Ho ho, well, who would have thought you had a weakness for kids? — Sif laughed, but quickly fell silent when he saw that Kiritsugu wasn't amused at all.

Those words immediately reminded him of Illya. The unfulfilled promise tormented him far more than the curse of the god of darkness. Sure, she was safe in the Einzbern castle, but she was isolated from everyone. He had no doubt that Acht would do everything to convince Illya that her father had abandoned her.

— That's why I'm here, — Emiya said after a brief silence. — I don't know how much longer I have, probably not more than a couple of years. I want to teach Shirou everything I know.

Sif understood perfectly what Kiritsugu meant. They were both instruments of war and death. It was what they did best. It was their life.

But it also meant something else. Magic was merely a tool for killing, and if Emiya had decided to teach it to his son, the conclusion was clear. He wanted to turn him into an assassin.

And that... was madness. Kiritsugu had just communicated that he regretted how he had lived his life, that he was willing to pay the price for it. And now... he wanted his son to walk the same path?

— I can't do it alone. I need someone to help teach him, — Kiritsugu said. This was his final decision, one he had considered for a long time, and Sif understood this too.

— So you want me to help you teach your son to become one of us? — he clarified slowly, emphasizing each word.

— To protect him, — Kiritsugu corrected.

— Our skills are not meant for protection, but for killing, — Sif replied coldly.

Catalan sighed heavily. Like Kiritsugu, he didn't have a high opinion of his profession and knew very well where it would ultimately lead— to death. And she was rarely worth talking about.

— I know... that's exactly why I have so many enemies... enemies who wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill my son. Because of the curse, I won't be able to act as I used to, and even if I could, I won't be able to deal with them all in the time I have left. That's why I came to ask for your help. I've already started teaching him the basics, but I have no confidence that I won't collapse dead in the middle of the street tomorrow. He will continue his training without me, of course, but it won't be enough.

— You know that's not a reason to turn your son into a killing machine. Change your name and his, and settle somewhere far away... is that so hard?

— Not hard, but "the woman named Fate hates me." Moreover, once we were found out, so he's already become a killer...

— Wait, what...?

— I don't even want to describe what happened to that guy... The mercenary clearly didn't expect the kid to pull off something like that, so he died faster than he could react. And Shiroг... did it instantly and effortlessly, yet it was as if he wasn't even himself.

— Wow... and he's ten? People say genetics don't matter... yeah... the apple doesn't fall far from the tree huh?...

This changed everything. Mercenaries rarely relied on luck; it tended to turn its back on them far too often. "Relying on luck is condemning oneself to death. Murphy's Law is the same for everyone," Sif's teacher used to say with a smirk. If someone didn't understand this simple truth, they quickly became a corpse. That was the harsh reality.

— Okay, let's say I understand why you decided to train him. But why did you come to me for this? We operate in completely different ways; in fact, we are diametrical opposites. And you want to entrust me with your son?

— Precisely because of that. We are not like other mages. I don't know what awaits Shirou in the future, but I want him to be prepared for it.

— Fine, then one last question... Why should I help you at all? What stops me from taking you both to some quiet place, putting a bullet in your head, and turning the kid in to the Association? You just admitted you're not in shape, — Sif asked with a cold smirk.

For a moment, a tense silence hung in the air. Both killers looked at each other, unblinking.

— Professional pride, — Emiya finally replied. — You owe me from Czechoslovakia; it's time to pay up.

— You bastard... — Sif hissed. It felt like he knew Kiritsugu would pull this argument. — Tch, it's always like this... Sif Ferro will always suffer for his kindness. But damn! I owe you; there's no denying it... You know, this is even amusing... Just imagine: a kid trained by "Catalan" and "The Magus Killer... What kind of monster are we going to unleash on the world?

— The path he chooses is up to him. I just want him to be ready for that choice, — Kiritsugu replied, ignoring the comment about "monsters."

— Heh, well, then call him over, — Sif smirked. — You can tell me more about him later. Since he will be my student, I want to know everything.

— Alright, — Kiritsugu nodded. — Shirou! Come here!

— I thought you two would be here until morning, — he grumbled as he walked over to the table.

— It's still early, — Sif laughed.

— Kiritsugu, who is this?

— One of my... old acquaintances, — Emiya replied stiffly.

— Oh, what does it mean, "acquaintance"? — Catalan pretended to be deeply affected by the Mage Killer's words. — I thought we were best buddies!

— You guys aren't even trying... — Shiro shook his head.

For a moment, silence hung in the air before breaking into Sif's laughter.

— Ha-ha-ha! I like him already. You wouldn't even guess he's your son...

— I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

— Well... — Sif said, finishing his gin and placing the glass on the table with a clatter. — We've rested enough; it's time to be off.

— Kiritsugu, you still haven't answered, — Shiroг pointed out.

— As I said, he's one of my colleagues and will be helping me with your training, — Kiritsugu replied.

— Aren't you the one teaching me?

— That's correct, but as I warned you, I can only teach you the essentials regarding magic. Sif is more qualified in that area, which is why he graciously agreed to help. Especially in... your case.

— That's right, kid, — Sif nodded. — I owe your old man big time, so we'll have to work closely together for the next few years. But that's beside the point. Alright, enough wasting time. Let's go!

— Where? — father and son asked in unison.

— To one of my safe houses. It's not far, but that way we can calmly discuss all the details. Plus, I'll figure out what we'll be dealing with. And besides... we've already attracted too much attention, — he added quietly, glancing off to the side.

Kiritsugu simply nodded in understanding. He had also noticed that a few patrons had begun to watch them closely, so they had started speaking more quietly towards the end.

— Well then, let's hit the road... — Ferro concluded.

 ***

A few days later. 

Sfax, Tunisia. 

After several days filled with conversations, arguments, and various assessments of Shirou's abilities, all three left the arid Cairo and moved to the more welcoming island of Sfax, not far from the coast of Tunisia. 

— Well, this is where we will focus on your training, kid, — said Sif, pointing at a spacious two-story house with a satisfied smile. — Honestly, I'm more here to relax than to hide, but since I don't come here often, it wouldn't be a tragedy if you accidentally wreck the place... And just to clarify, that was a joke. I bought this house at a closed auction and I have no intention of parting with it. 

— We make no promises, — Kiritsugu smirked. 

— Yeah, with you, it's impossible to be certain about anything, — Ferro scoffed as he opened the house. 

— Cough... cough! What a dust storm... — Shirou coughed from the dust that had been kicked up, grimacing as he looked reproachfully at the owner of the house. 

— Sorry! The last time I was here was... eight months ago, — Sif replied, rolling his eyes. — Anyway, head to the second floor, pick any room—it's all free. Tomorrow we'll head into town, grab what's missing, and order some other things... So go on upstairs, get settled, while your old man and I do a little inventory check. 

Shirou went upstairs, while Sif and Kiritsugu headed down to the basement, starting to open boxes containing weapons and gear, checking their condition and quantity. 

— Sif, — the Mage Killer suddenly called. 

— What? 

— I need to talk. It's about Shirou, — the "Catalan," holding a partially disassembled pistol, moved closer and sat on one of the boxes, gesturing for Kiritsugu to continue. — The thing is, I didn't just decide to trust you for no reason... 

— I'm flattered by this revelation, but I could listen to your heartfelt gratitude a bit later... 

— Shirou has a very unusual Origin and Elemental Affinity... And Mystic Eyes, — the Mage Killer abruptly interrupted. 

Sif discreetly flinched and set aside his weapon. Looking intently at Kiritsugu, with undisguised surprise, he cleared his throat and slowly, emphasizing each word, spoke: 

— I hope... to hear at least a few coherent reasons why you chose to wait so long and only now decided to fill me in on this. 

— I wasn't sure there weren't any listening ears around, — the Mage Killer reluctantly replied. — You understand how serious this all is. 

— Well, you seem to have no idea what this means! Damn it... if anyone finds out, there will be a line of people wanting to get to him... The Association, the Church, the Dead Apostles... 

— That may be the case, but most likely that won't happen, — Emiya replied more calmly. — I doubt they would rush to catch him based solely on rumors. After all, you yourself didn't fully believe me just now. 

— Naturally... Ha... if what you said is true, things indeed get even more dangerous and interesting... 

— So, are you not afraid of dying now? 

— Ha, ha, ha, what a funny corpse I've got in my basement, — Sif responded ironically. — Maybe you'd like to share something else? Perhaps he also has a Reality Marble or he is a demigod? — he joked, not noticing how his conversation partner had grown quiet. 

— Ha... you know, I'm starting to think that hiding him somewhere would be the best option. If even a rumor of his existence leaks to the Association, they'll find him sooner or later, and then the entire magical world will want to turn him into a trophy and an exhibit in some museum. 

— Even if he starts living a quiet life, everything can fall into the abyss at any moment, and then something like what you just mentioned could happen. That's why I made that decision, Sif, and I want you to accept it completely as well. I've trusted fate once already, and look where we are now... 

— Sif Ferro never changes his decisions... — the killer replied with a smirk. — With rare exceptions, of course. If I've decided to help you, then that's how it will be. Whether you thank me in the end or curse me, that's your business. 

— Time will tell, — Kiritsugu shrugged. 

— Ah... I sense you're not telling me everything again. But if you think that's for the best, then I just have to train him. The rest is no longer my concern, — concluded the "Catalan," returning to disassembling the pistol... 

*** 

Shirou POV. 

Everything changed so quickly lately. You don't even have time to get accustomed before everything around shifts again. Just this week, we've already changed houses three times, and I doubt we'll stay in this one for long either. Still, I'm starting to get used to it... 

However, there's a silver lining. Over the past months, I've seen fewer of those red lines; the last time was indeed on that night... 

More importantly, these events still linger in my mind. That man... did I... kill him? With these hands?.. It's still hard to wrap my mind around it. 

At that moment, I acted as if it wasn't my will. My mind clouded, and when Kiritsugu snapped me back to reality, that man was already dead. Only after that did I realize what I had done. 

Later, my father told me everything. It turned out he had withheld part of the truth. He wasn't just an ordinary mage... 

...he was one who kills mages.  

This news shocked me. Of course, I suspected Kiritsugu wasn't a saint, but... He had to do it; otherwise, what happened in Alimango would happen again. He was right to make that choice... but the rest... I'm not sure. Kiritsugu doesn't seem like someone who enjoys killing. Maybe he had his reasons, and those mages deserved to die? 

I don't know... there's too much I don't understand. But there's one thing I know for sure. I must learn a lot and become stronger, or else... I might die... 

*** 

In the morning, Kiritsugu woke me up. I changed into the clothes I had been given and went downstairs. Stepping outside, I inhaled the cool sea air and shielded my eyes from the rays of the rising sun. 

— So, kid, did you sleep well? — Sif asked with a smirk. 

— Is that important? 

— You're joking, so it's a good sign! — he praised me. — Starting today, from seven in the morning, you're under the authority of me and your father. We're going to make something out of you. Why "something"? Because I'm not even close to being sure of the final result. We will teach you everything that your old man and I know, and when I say everything, I mean everything. I won't lie or sugarcoat things. Our world is a pretty harsh and unpleasant place, and the world of mages is even crazier. Death goes hand in hand with life, and you'll have to live with that. The sooner you get used to it, the better. Remember, the most important thing for you is to survive. That was a rule both I and your father set for ourselves when we started. It existed before us and will remain after you. If you die, your loved ones won't find it easier, and you won't be able to help them anymore. And if you want to survive, you will have to kill. And I want to know if you're ready for that? — the "Catalan" concluded his long speech. 

— ...Yes, — I replied after a brief silence. 

I already knew this question awaited me. All this time, I had been asking myself and came to a simple conclusion. The world of mages is a very cruel place; I experienced that firsthand in Fuyuki. It could be denied or justified, but the fact remains. If I want to live, I will have to play by the rules of this world. 

— Hm... judging by your expression, you've thought about this for a while. Well then... let's begin!

***

- Hold it steady. Keep them in line, - Kiritsugu said in the tone of a good lecturer, holding his son's hands in front of his revolver. - All the power is transferred to the fingers, not the hands. When you pull the trigger, do it smoothly.

Shirou nodded understandingly, gripping the unfamiliar weapon tighter. In front of him were several bricks that served as targets for him.

- From this distance, you should hit every time. For now, your target is six consecutive shots four seconds apart. Once you achieve that, we can start working on speed. Remember, the first shot is the most important..... - he finished his instruction. - Come on!

The bullet flew noisily out of the revolver, and the weapon shook in the children's hands. Fingers and palms felt the recoil. The bullet blew off the corner of a brick, showering the ground with crumbs and dust.

- You already know a little about the world of magic, what do you think is the weakness of almost every mage? - Kiritsugu asked him, lighting another cigarette.

- ...Arrogance? - Shirou suggested, after he had fired all the remaining bullets.

- No, - his father shook his head negatively, though he could see in his gaze that his son was not far from the truth. - You are not completely wrong, but arrogance alone does not prevent a mage from having a head on his shoulders.

Emiya Shirou reloaded the revolver and continued shooting. The feeling of recoil... It was literally starting to soak into his hands. They trembled not because of what it was, but because of its absence.

- Nine times out of ten, a mage dies at the hands of a mercenary because he uses the most appropriate methods, - Kiritsugu continued, taking a drag.

After firing six more rounds, Shirou turned to him in surprise. It seemed to him... so trivial.

- Was it really that simple? That's the whole secret?

- Though partly arrogance plays a key role in this. The bottom line is that if this method can send a mage to the grave, then it's a good one. It doesn't matter how it is judged by others. Mages may consider it delusional and something unrealistic, something that a person would definitely not go for or would prefer to use something else. They just won't be able to accept it, and therefore won't be ready....

***

- Come on, kid! I know you can do better! - Sif mockingly shouted, blocking another of Shirou's punches.

- Tsk... - Gritting his teeth irritably, he tried to kick the mercenary with his right foot, only for the latter to dodge playfully.

"Catalan" grinned at the heavily breathing Shiro. Despite the heat of battle, he could easily make out all the bruises covering the boy's body, but he didn't seem to notice them. No matter how many blows Sif threw, the son of the Magus Killer kept getting up and attacking him again.

Dodging another blow, he grabbed Shirou's arm and used the inertia to pull the boy towards him, then drove his knee into his chest. Not hard enough to break ribs, but still tangible. Catalan was a pretty good healer, which was handy in his profession and their training, where he could afford such extremes.

- Not bad, - he praised Shirou who had fallen to the ground. - To strike when the opponent was distracted and let his guard down. But next time... do something less obvious.

Squatting down in front of him, Sif placed a hand on his chest, and a faint green light flickered beneath it.

- This is what awaits you when you meet a mage. Never think of them as mere humans. They're fucking mutants in the flesh who won't hesitate or trifle. They'll do anything if it'll save their asses. That's why you gotta be more cunning than they are. Let them already think you're more than a mere mortal.....

 ***

Days, weeks, months went by like that... The training was so devastating that even just thinking about something caused Shirou a great deal of pain....

Occasionally, Sif would take time off to fulfill another order. It was necessary, because his disappearance would draw unnecessary attention. But even so, he no longer took on anything crazy, preferring not to take risks like he used to. At times like this, the workload was slightly lessened, but more from the fact that Kiritsugu simply couldn't train him the way Sif did.

Gradually, both Catalan and Shirou began to notice a deterioration in his condition. At first it was small things, like a glass falling out of his hand or absent-mindedness. But as time went on, it began to show even in appearance. Emiya had become paler than before and had aged by three in the past year.

The worst part was that the curse was affecting the magic circuits as well. It was getting harder and harder to control the magic and the chains simply began to atrophy. To keep them from disappearing, Kiritsugu wanted to give his Crest to Shirou before the curse affected her as well, which could be dangerous for his son. So on one of his trips, Sif decided to pull up his contacts and find a sufficiently qualified spiritual healer for the transplant. Himself, he considered himself an unsuitable person to do so.....

 ***

Two years later.

The training field.

Shirou POV.

I stood in front of several targets, holding a pair of knives in each hand.

With a sharp motion, I threw one and the other, hitting the center. Then my hand darted back and pulled a knife literally out of thin air, sending it into the target. The movements were repeated over and over until the count was sixteen.

After a few months, combining all the knowledge they had gained, they managed to figure out what his Element was.

Imaginary Numbers was in essence a separate dimension, where the concept of time simply did not exist (for the experiment, we even put there a slice of bread and took out a month later, and it was not even stale). This allowed me to access it, giving me a sort of pocket dimension where I could store things without fear of them falling into disrepair or having to carry them around on my back.

Of course, I couldn't just shove whatever I wanted in there. The number of items and their size determined how much prana it consumed. But with my chains, the load was still very minimal in any case....

The eyes, on the other hand, were not so simple.

Despite our best efforts, we were unable to determine their nature. It seems their uniqueness was too great for us to learn anything about them. So we had to rely on the surest and most dangerous method - practice....

As it turned out, all those lines I'd seen could be cut. I remembered the events of that night not immediately, so it took me a while to understand them. By cutting them, I was literally tearing objects to pieces. Furniture, weapons, plants... The object didn't matter, the result was the same...

Sif once joked that with these eyes I could see the death of objects. We didn't appreciate the joke, but his interpretation sounded pretty logical. That's why we dubbed them the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

However, they also had their disadvantages ... It gave me a headache, not to mention the eyes themselves. In addition, I was able to more or less control their appearance only a couple months ago, and before that I had to wear special glasses that suppressed their effect. Although... I haven't completely given up on them even now....

- Shirou! - a sharp shout broke my thoughts.

- Cazzo... - I swore quietly, using words I'd picked up from Ferro. - What's the matter, Sif?

- I don't want to interrupt you from your studies, but there's something important to do, so please get your ass off the chair and let's go, - he replied with his usual smirk, beckoning me with his hand.

- Huh... Okay... - I replied with a heavy sigh.

After leaving the workshop and walking into the living room, I saw Kiritsugu looking at the pile of papers on the table and smoking with a pensive look.

- Oh, Shirou, good. There's something we need to discuss, - he said, noticing me.

- What is it? Is something wrong?

- Yes. You see, your father and I had an argument. He doesn't think you're ready for a real job yet. I don't think so. So we agreed that you'd settle the argument,- Catalan told me.

- For a real job? You mean...?

- Yes, - Kiritsugu nodded. - Assasination, that kind of job.

- Do you want to take me on a mission?

- Almost... Neither your old man nor I are good for small change, so it's too risky. No, we've decided to send you on a simpler mission, to give you a chance to experience things for yourself and spread your wings. Of course we'll go with you and cover your ass in case of emergency, - Sif grinned.

- Shiro, think about it and tell me. Are you ready? - Kiritsugu asked. - If not, then...

- Oh, you're annoying! It's not like we're sending him to kill Lorelei Barthomeloi! If he doesn't use his skills in the real world, our training will be useless! And I'm sorry, Emiya, but even if he dies on this mission, it's a good thing.

- It's okay, Dad, I'll be fine, - I replied confidently.

- Are you sure? - The Magus Killer asked with a heavy look.

- I'm sure.

- Well, see? Now we're talking! - Sif patted me on the shoulder and grinned at me. - Good, now let's get down to business...