Morning came the way it always did.
Quiet.
Predictable.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and steady, painting the room in warm gold.
Birds chirped somewhere beyond the window.
The world moved on.
Illyasviel von Einzbern sat at the edge of her bed.
Already awake.
Already dressed.
She hadn't needed Sella to wake her.
She hadn't needed Leysritt to check on her.
She just…
Got up.
"…I'm fine," she murmured to no one.
The words felt rehearsed.
Because they were.
Breakfast was quieter than usual.
Sella placed the final dish on the table with her usual precision.
Leysritt leaned back in her chair, watching Illya more openly than she usually did.
"…You're going to school?" Leysritt asked.
"…Yeah."
No hesitation.
"…You don't have to," Sella added.
"…I know."
Illya picked up her fork.
"…But I want to."
Silence followed.
Not disagreement.
Not concern.
Just acknowledgment.
Across from her—
He sat quietly.
Watching.
Not her movements.
Not her expression.
Something else.
"…You didn't sleep much," he said.
Illya paused.
Just slightly.
"…I slept enough."
"…That's not what I said."
She looked at him.
"…I'm fine."
The same words again.
This time—
More firmly.
He didn't push it.
"…Okay."
But his gaze didn't leave her.
The walk to school felt longer.
Not because it was.
But because she noticed everything.
Too much.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Wind.
Normal things.
Things that shouldn't feel strange.
"…This is better…" she whispered under her breath.
No danger.
No pressure.
Just—
Normal.
The classroom buzzed with energy.
Students talking.
Laughing.
Complaining about homework.
Illya stepped inside.
"…Good morning!" she said.
Bright.
Cheerful.
Perfect.
"…Morning, Illya!"
"Hey, you feeling better?"
"You were gone yesterday!"
She smiled.
Answered.
Reacted.
Everything exactly the way she should.
And yet—
It felt distant.
Like she was watching herself do it.
Not actually being there.
She sat down.
Her hands rested on the desk.
Still.
"…I'm back," she told herself quietly.
"…This is enough."
At the back of the room—
He watched.
Silent.
Observing.
Not her actions.
The gaps between them.
"…She's pretending," he thought.
Not as criticism.
Just—
Truth.
The lesson began.
The teacher spoke.
Words filled the room.
Illya listened.
Or tried to.
"…strength…"
"…effort…"
"…improvement…"
Her fingers tightened slightly.
She didn't notice at first.
But the words—
They felt heavier than they should.
"…strong…"
A pause.
Her gaze dropped to her desk.
"…I don't need that…" she thought.
"…I don't want that…"
"Alright, everyone," the teacher said, clapping lightly. "Today we'll be doing something different."
A stack of paper was placed on each desk.
"Free drawing. Anything you like."
A few students groaned.
Others perked up immediately.
Illya stared at the blank page in front of her.
"…Anything…"
Her hand moved.
Slowly.
She started simple.
A house.
A tree.
Normal.
Safe.
But—
Her pencil didn't stop.
The line extended.
Further.
The tree became taller.
Too tall.
The ground stretched outward.
Flat.
Endless.
Her hand moved again.
Upward.
Into the sky.
Lines.
Thin.
Repeated.
One.
Then another.
Then—
More.
Illya froze.
"…What is this…"
Her breath caught slightly.
She hadn't meant to draw that.
Didn't remember deciding to.
Her fingers loosened.
The pencil slipped from her hand.
It hit the desk softly.
Beside her—
A shadow shifted.
He stepped closer.
Just enough to see.
And stopped.
His gaze fixed on the paper.
The horizon.
The vertical lines.
The shape forming—
Incomplete.
But familiar.
His fingers twitched slightly.
"…I've seen this…" he murmured.
Illya looked at him.
"…Seen what?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because he didn't know.
"…I don't know," he said finally.
But his eyes didn't leave the page.
"…It just feels…"
A pause.
"…wrong."
Illya stared at the drawing again.
Then—
Quickly—
She grabbed another sheet.
Covered it.
"…It's nothing," she said.
Too fast.
Too firm.
He didn't argue.
"…Okay."
But the feeling remained.
For both of them.
The bell rang.
The class moved on.
The moment passed.
But something had already been seen.
Even if neither of them understood it.
Outside—
The wind moved softly.
Inside—
The illusion of normal continued.
Just fragile enough—
To break again.
The park was quiet at this hour.
Not empty.
Just… spaced out.
A few people walked along the paths.
A couple sat on a bench beneath the trees.
Normal.
Illya stood near the fountain, hands clasped behind her back, eyes fixed on the water as it rippled softly.
"…You're early."
She didn't turn.
"…I didn't want to be late."
Footsteps approached.
Measured. Confident.
Rin Tohsaka stopped a few steps behind her.
"…You sound serious," Rin said.
"…I am."
A pause.
The wind shifted lightly through the trees.
Illya turned.
Her expression wasn't panicked.
Wasn't hesitant.
Just… quiet.
"…I'm quitting."
No buildup.
No hesitation.
The words landed softly.
Rin didn't react immediately.
She studied Illya for a moment.
"…Alright."
That was it.
Illya blinked.
"…That's it?"
"…What were you expecting?" Rin asked calmly. "A lecture?"
"…I don't know… maybe…"
Rin exhaled lightly.
"…You were never supposed to be doing this in the first place."
Her tone wasn't harsh.
Just matter-of-fact.
"…I pushed it because it was convenient."
A pause.
"…That's on me."
Illya stared at her.
"…So you're just… okay with it?"
"…You're not ready," Rin said simply.
Not judgment.
Not criticism.
Truth.
Illya looked down slightly.
"…Yeah…"
The word felt heavier now.
Not because Rin said it.
Because she agreed.
Silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… final.
Then—
A small spin of light broke the stillness.
"…Wow, that was anticlimactic!"
Ruby (Kaleidostick) hovered into view, circling lazily.
"…Ruby," Rin said flatly.
"…Yes, my former master?" Ruby chimed.
"…Don't call me that."
Ruby spun once more.
"…So! Are we transferring back now? Reuniting? Rekindling? Dramatic reunion scene?"
Rin extended her hand.
"…Come here."
Simple.
Direct.
Ruby paused mid-air.
Just for a second.
Then—
"…No."
Silence.
Illya blinked.
Rin frowned slightly.
"…What do you mean 'no'?"
Ruby floated closer—to Illya.
"…I chose her."
The words were light.
Cheerful.
But—
They didn't waver.
"…Contracts, fate, destiny—very dramatic, yes," Ruby continued. "But at the end of the day?"
She hovered beside Illya's shoulder.
"…I like this one."
Illya stared at her.
"…Wait—what?"
"…You heard me," Ruby said. "You're stuck with me."
"…I just quit," Illya said weakly.
"…And I just decided to ignore that," Ruby replied brightly.
"…That's not how this works!"
"…Says who?"
Rin pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…This is ridiculous…"
"…Oh, absolutely," Ruby agreed. "But also completely intentional."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"…You don't stop being my master just because you're scared."
Illya froze.
"…I'm not—"
She stopped.
Because that wasn't true.
Ruby didn't push it.
Didn't tease.
Just stayed there.
"…You can quit fighting," Ruby said lightly. "But I'm not leaving."
Illya looked away.
"…Why…"
The question came out quieter than she expected.
"…Because I chose you," Ruby repeated.
No jokes.
No exaggeration.
Just—
Simple.
Rin lowered her hand slowly.
"…Do whatever you want," she said, turning slightly.
"…But don't get in the way."
Not to Illya.
To Ruby.
"…Perish the thought," Ruby said with a spin.
Rin didn't respond.
She simply started walking away.
"…Hey," Illya called.
Rin paused.
"…What?"
Illya hesitated.
"…Be careful."
A pause.
Rin didn't turn.
"…That's my line," she said.
Then she kept walking.
Silence returned.
The fountain continued to ripple.
The world remained—
Normal.
Illya exhaled slowly.
"…So…"
She glanced at Ruby.
"…You're really not leaving?"
"…Nope."
"…Even if I don't fight?"
"…Especially then," Ruby said.
Illya frowned slightly.
"…That doesn't make sense…"
"…It doesn't have to."
A pause.
Illya looked back at the water.
"…I'm serious, you know…"
"…I know."
"…I'm not going back."
Ruby didn't respond immediately.
Then—
"…We'll see."
Not challenging.
Not dismissive.
Just—
Certain.
Illya didn't argue.
Because she didn't have an answer to that.
Above them—
The wind moved softly through the trees.
Unseen.
Unnoticed.
And somewhere—
Far beyond this quiet moment—
The final battle had already begun.
Night fell without ceremony.
The Mirror World opened.
No resistance.
No warning.
Just—
A fracture in reality.
Miyu Edelfelt stepped through it alone.
Her landing was silent.
Controlled.
The city stretched around her—empty, hollow, stripped of life.
Streetlights flickered.
Buildings stood like unmoving witnesses.
No wind.
No sound.
Just pressure.
Miyu didn't move immediately.
Her gaze swept the area once.
Left.
Right.
Above.
Nothing visible.
And yet—
"…You're here," she said quietly.
The air didn't respond.
But something shifted.
Subtle.
Heavy.
Then—
A step.
Not hers.
The ground trembled.
Once.
Then again.
Closer.
Miyu raised her weapon.
Her stance steady.
Prepared.
The pressure grew.
Not sharp like before.
Not hidden.
Overwhelming.
Then—
It appeared.
A figure.
Massive.
Cracked stone skin.
Muscle layered over something unnatural.
A weapon larger than it should be.
And eyes—
Empty.
Berserker (Class Card)
The ground split beneath its step.
Miyu didn't react.
Didn't step back.
"…Understood," she said.
No fear.
Just acceptance.
Then—
She moved.
Fast.
Clean.
Her strike aimed precisely—
At the opening.
Impact.
The sound rang out.
Solid.
Correct.
Perfect.
Berserker didn't move.
Not from the hit.
Not from the force.
Nothing.
Miyu's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…I see."
The creature moved.
Not fast.
But—
Absolute.
Its weapon came down.
The air split.
Miyu dodged.
Barely.
The ground where she had stood—
Gone.
Not cracked.
Erased.
She didn't hesitate.
Moved again.
Another strike.
Another angle.
Another perfect hit—
Nothing.
No reaction.
No damage.
"…It's not defending…" she realized.
A pause.
"…It doesn't need to."
The next attack came faster.
Not in speed.
In inevitability.
She blocked—
Her body shifted—
Forced back.
Her feet slid across the ground.
Controlled.
But not stable.
"…So this is the last one…"
Her grip tightened.
She adjusted her stance.
Lower.
More precise.
She attacked again.
This time—
Targeting joints.
Structure.
Weak points.
Every strike—
Correct.
Every movement—
Efficient.
Every decision—
Perfect.
And yet—
Nothing changed.
Berserker advanced.
Step by step.
Unstoppable.
Miyu's breathing remained steady.
But her movements grew tighter.
More controlled.
Less room.
"…Skill isn't enough…" she thought.
The realization came without panic.
Without denial.
Just—
Fact.
The next blow came—
Too wide to block.
Too heavy to deflect.
She dodged—
The shockwave still hit her.
Her body lifted—
Then slammed back.
She rolled.
Recovered.
Stood again.
No wasted motion.
But slower.
Slightly.
Berserker didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't think.
It simply continued.
Miyu stepped forward again.
Not retreating.
Never retreating.
"…I don't need backup," she said quietly.
The words left her without hesitation.
Without doubt.
But—
For the first time—
They didn't feel entirely true.
The creature moved again.
And this time—
It was faster.
The second strike came faster.
Not in speed—
In certainty.
Berserker (Class Card) didn't hesitate.
Didn't adjust.
Didn't think.
It simply acted.
Miyu shifted—
A fraction too late.
Impact.
The force didn't land clean.
But it didn't need to.
The shock alone sent her backward.
Her feet lost contact with the ground.
For a moment—
Weightless.
Then—
Gravity returned.
Hard.
She hit the pavement.
Cracks spread beneath her.
Her grip tightened instantly.
She rolled—
Recovered—
Stood.
But not perfectly.
Not this time.
Her breathing remained controlled.
But her stance—
Lower now.
More defensive.
The distance between them closed again.
Too easily.
"…Underestimated," she thought.
Not the enemy.
The situation.
She moved again.
Not forward—
Around.
Testing angles.
Searching for something—
Anything—
That could change the outcome.
Strike.
Correct.
Precise.
Meaningless.
The blade hit—
And stopped.
No damage.
No reaction.
The creature didn't even acknowledge it.
"…Then I adapt," Miyu whispered.
Her movement shifted.
Less direct.
More controlled.
She stopped aiming to break.
Started aiming to delay.
To redirect.
To survive.
But even that—
Wasn't enough.
Berserker advanced.
Unchanging.
Unstoppable.
Another swing—
Wider.
Heavier.
She dodged—
But the air itself struck her.
Her body lifted again—
Less control this time.
She landed harder.
Didn't roll cleanly.
A pause.
Too long.
The creature stepped forward.
Raising its weapon.
For a finishing blow.
Elsewhere—
The night remained quiet.
Too quiet.
Illya stood near her window.
She hadn't meant to stay awake.
But sleep wouldn't come.
"…It's over…" she whispered.
She had said that before.
Tried to believe it.
And yet—
Her chest felt tight.
Uneasy.
Wrong.
"…Why does it feel like…"
A flicker.
Not visible.
Not real.
But—
She felt it.
That same pressure.
Distant.
Faint.
But familiar.
Her fingers tightened against the windowsill.
"…Miyu…"
The name slipped out before she realized it.
Behind her—
"…You feel it too."
She turned.
He stood there.
Still.
Watching.
Not her.
Something beyond her.
"…What?" Illya asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Because he was trying to understand it himself.
"…Something's wrong," he said finally.
Simple.
Certain.
Illya's chest tightened further.
"…She said she could handle it…"
A pause.
"…She always does."
"…That's not the same thing," he replied.
The words came easier now.
More natural.
"…Handling something alone…"
A slight shift in his gaze.
"…and being able to win…"
A pause.
"…aren't always the same."
Illya froze.
The thought settled—
Unwanted.
Unavoidable.
"…No…"
She shook her head slightly.
"…She's stronger than me…"
"…That's not the point."
His voice didn't rise.
Didn't push.
But it didn't bend either.
"…Strength doesn't decide everything."
Silence followed.
Illya looked back at the window.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Uncertain.
"…I quit," she said quietly.
As if repeating it would make it final.
"…I already decided."
He didn't argue that.
Didn't deny it.
But—
"…Then why are you still standing here?"
The question landed softly.
But it didn't miss.
Illya didn't answer.
Because she didn't have one.
The pressure returned.
Stronger this time.
Closer.
Her breath caught.
"…She's—"
She stopped.
Didn't finish it.
Didn't need to.
Her hand moved—
Without thinking.
Grabbing her coat.
"…Illya," he said.
She paused at the door.
Not turning.
"…I know," she said.
Her voice steadier now.
"…I said I quit."
A breath.
"…But that doesn't mean I can ignore this."
Silence.
Then—
"…No," he said quietly.
"…It doesn't."
She opened the door.
And ran.
Back in the Mirror World—
The weapon fell.
The air split.
And Miyu—
Couldn't fully avoid it.