Chapter Twelve: Please, Shirou Emiya, Don’t Be Deceived Again!
A silent night.
A chilly breeze blew in through the window.
Shirou Emiya felt no hint of cold, for his reanimated body rendered his senses akin to the dead, even though he had closed the window as if still alive.
Perhaps...
This was the only way to truly feel alive?
This house had been arranged by Tobirama Senju.
Though Shirou Emiya had no need for a place to rest, he required a quiet environment. Tobirama’s excuse was that he needed to study the medical ninjutsu of this era.
Naturally.
A covert operative was stationed nearby.
This ANBU ninja was not tasked with watching over Shirou Emiya here but rather to protect him and await any requests he might present to Konoha.
In truth, Tobirama believed that with just a thought, he could control Shirou Emiya’s body, but he wished to maintain a level of respect and hoped Shirou Emiya would not see the Reanimation Jutsu as manipulation.
“Don’t stay up late tonight. Get some rest,” Shirou Emiya said, closing the window and speaking to the ANBU ninja hidden on the windowsill below. “Just bring me a map of the ninja world tomorrow morning...”
“...”
The ANBU ninja hesitated briefly.
Yet, recalling Tobirama’s orders, he swiftly disappeared, heading to the Hokage’s office to report Shirou Emiya’s request.
“...”
Shirou Emiya’s mood settled into quiet calm.
“I only left it one path...” he mused listlessly, picking at the wick of a lamp and absentmindedly murmuring to Kurozetsu, “Why hasn’t my ally come to see me yet?”
Kurozetsu...
Why hasn’t he come to find me?
If Kurozetsu’s mind had matured over this millennium, he would surely realize that his former ally was his only true choice.
Surely not...
Is Kurozetsu still as naive and gullible as he was over a thousand years ago?
The candlelight flickered.
A dark shadow appeared on the wall.
A black creature silently emerged from the ground.
Just as Shirou Emiya was beginning to worry that Kurozetsu’s mind had not progressed in all these years, Kurozetsu’s figure silently appeared behind him.
“Long time no see... Lord Emiya,” came the eerie voice near Shirou Emiya’s ear.
“Lord Emiya.”
It was a term both intimate and respectful.
Usually only the slug he had raised since childhood would call him that, but Kurozetsu considered their relationship close enough to occasionally use it.
Although Kurozetsu always thought of Shirou Emiya as a pawn, he dared only keep that thought to himself, never openly challenging him.
After all, the gap in their power was vast.
Kurozetsu could only deceive and manipulate Shirou Emiya; they had once been comrades, not master and subordinate. The title “Lord Emiya” was merely a term of endearment.
“That voice...” Shirou Emiya’s body stiffened in disbelief. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, and his fingers paused mid-motion at the lamp wick.
“It’s me.”
Kurozetsu’s voice wavered slightly as his figure sank back into the ground. “If you still remember me—the one who once shared your dream but was ultimately betrayed by you...”
“Forgive me...” Shirou Emiya’s face showed a shadow of guilt.
Lowering his head in apology, he then saw Kurozetsu rise from beneath him, truly standing before him.
“Unexpected, isn’t it? Lord Emiya.”
Kurozetsu looked at Shirou Emiya’s ashamed and shocked face and gradually relaxed, a satisfied smile spreading across his features.
“I never imagined that after enduring this long lonely existence, I would again see Lord Emiya from over a thousand years ago...”
“Indeed...” Shirou Emiya gazed at Kurozetsu standing before him.
Kurozetsu now appeared somewhat taller than a millennium ago, his form more like that of an adult.
“You’ve grown taller too... Kurozetsu.”
A gentle smile unexpectedly graced Shirou Emiya’s face, reminiscent of the countless times he had praised Kurozetsu and the slug years ago.
“...”
Kurozetsu’s smile froze.
Hearing Shirou Emiya’s praise, Kurozetsu’s urge to confront him faltered, leaving him momentarily speechless.
This guy...
Still the same old self!
Kurozetsu had been prepared to strike hard with his harshest words, to jolt Shirou Emiya awake.
But before his blow could land, he found himself softened by cotton.
Yet, before Kurozetsu could pierce Shirou Emiya’s kind heart, Shirou seemed to willingly suffer, a trace of sorrow appearing on his reanimated face.
His fingers resumed fiddling with the lamp wick, deliberately ignoring the flame as the candlelight flickered.
“How wonderful...” he murmured.
“After more than a thousand years...”
“To have the chance to see an old comrade again.”
“The Ninja clans of this era...”
“No, nowadays they call themselves shinobi...”
There was a faint joy in Shirou Emiya’s voice, but his face bore an indescribable sadness, one so palpable that even Kurozetsu sensed the weight of his suppressed grief and pain.
“Kurozetsu...”
“The shinobi of this age are truly geniuses.”
“To have used the corpse specimen I left behind so long ago to resurrect me, a soul lost over a millennium past.”
“Lord Emiya must be angry?” Kurozetsu sneered and jeered alongside Shirou Emiya at the ninja world over a thousand years later. “Is this the worst era ever?”
“Is it?”
Shirou Emiya lifted his head with a hint of self-mockery.
“The shinobi of this era told me this is the best time in a thousand years...”
“Indeed!”
“For the descendants of the wicked...”
“This is the best time in a millennium!”
Kurozetsu’s face darkened, mocking the ancestors of these shinobi.
“Those vile ones granted chakra fought endless wars for greed, igniting a Sengoku period that lasted a thousand years...”
“Even though I spread Lord Emiya’s story during these thousand years, teaching shinobi that in ancient times there was once a great ideal—that chakra’s power was meant to save the suffering—shinobi still used chakra to fight incessantly...”
Naturally.
Kurozetsu concealed his role in sparking these wars.
“Lord Emiya.”
A strange smile curled on Kurozetsu’s lips as he sensed the moment was ripe to ask the question he had pondered for over a thousand years.
“You’ve witnessed the endless conflicts of the shinobi...”
“Heard of the chaotic Sengoku that lasted a millennium...”
Seeing the increasingly troubled expression on Emiya’s face, Kurozetsu felt a growing sense of satisfaction. He decided to deliver his final blow.
“Now, Lord Emiya...”
“Do you regret believing in Ashura’s foolish words back then?”
“...”
Shirou Emiya fell silent under Kurozetsu’s question.
This silence was, in Kurozetsu’s eyes, a tacit admission. His smile widened, eager to press further.
“Perhaps...” Shirou Emiya suddenly spoke.
“Nothing is certain yet.”
His voice was faint and hollow, as if searching for meaning, then he began to recount the past.
“I remember Ashura promising me he would quell the conflicts born of chakra, that he would protect the weak from the strong, that chakra would become a power to save the suffering—even if it cost him his life, he would not stop...”
“At first...”
“I thought this world was hopelessly absurd.”
“But today, I’ve seen the one who carries Ashura’s chakra in this generation—a reincarnation named Hashirama Senju, who is also a descendant of Ashura.”
“I vaguely recall the Senju name—it was one of the surnames I gave him when I first met Ashura, a name meant to represent the unity of people reaching out their hands together. The power of many hands can quell all future disasters that bring pain to the world...”
Shirou Emiya spoke of Hashirama’s story, clearly admiring him.
“I’ve heard of Hashirama Senju. Many gathered around him, and he ended the thousand-year war, bringing peace to the chaotic Sengoku era...”
“...”
Kurozetsu’s sinister smile froze.
No...
You still believe in Ashura?
How can you still be so pure and foolish!
No...
You’ve been fooled once already!
How can you still trust Ashura and his descendants?
No...
Stop falling for their lies!
They’re all deceiving you!
Can you not just fall for me instead?