fate/first order derivative

Part II.5

> continue: iteration 26, day 5, early morning

I'm standing a few blocks down the street from the Matou house, holding an umbrella. Intact and unharmed, I'm happy to say. It's drizzling slightly, though I know it won't last long. Somewhere behind me, the sun's just starting to rise.

"Where are they?" Illya grumbles from beneath the umbrella. "I'm getting cold."

I glance at my cell phone. "Shouldn't be long now. They're probably just getting into position."

I have to admit, she's kind of starting to grow on me. Didn't expect that. It's like there's a switch in her head that goes between 'adorable little girl' and 'evil mastermind.' So far, I can't tell which mode's real and which is the mask. Maybe both, maybe neither.

> i thought she irritated the crap out of you

In my defense, that was before I found out she and the maids were basically organic robots. Speaking of which. "Back to what you were saying before," I say to her. "So you're all replicants?"

"Homunculi," Sella corrects me sharply. She and Leysritt stand behind Illya in the rain.

"Right, magical replicants. Got it."

"And yes, essentially," Illya says. "The von Einzberns abandoned traditional reproduction methods centuries ago. We prefer a more... precise approach."

"Okay. So it's like you're using cloning and genetic engineering to perpetuate yourselves. Gotcha." Seems pretty straightforward to me. "But you're still pretty much human, right?"

"More or less." Illya shrugs. "It depends on the purpose we're built for. Some of us are modified to live for hundreds of years. Others are more specialized. Leysritt here, for example, was created to be my bodyguard. She's nearly entirely geared towards combat. Since she was made specifically for this conflict, she most likely won't live to see her fourth birthday."

"Birthday," Leysritt echoes dreamily. I'll try and put this as tastefully as I can: I've been getting a... special needs kind of vibe from her. But if what Illya just said is true, it makes sense. They probably engineered her brain to hyperfocus on fighting at the expense of all other functions. Neat, huh?

> putting aside the part where it's completely fucking horrifying yes

Oh. Right, yeah. There's that. I mean, come on, a lifespan of only a few years? Who would do that? It's not like they're lightbulbs or iPods. I scratch the back of my head and glance at the maids. "That seems... kinda short. Are you really okay with that?"

Leysritt just gives me a blank expression. Sella, looking chagrined, opens her mouth to say something. Before she can respond, Illya says in a distant tone, "Berserker reports that Saber has arrived. I've told him not to kill her. For now."

"Sweet." I feel my cell phone buzz. It's a text from Shirou: TWO MINUTES. "They're about to start," I say, stuffing the mobile back into my pocket. "Wait for it."

"I remember the plan, thank you."

> also did you catch the part where you were calling a two-to-three-year-old girl funbags

Was trying not to think about that, actually. But thank you. Thank you, as always, for bringing out the guilty/squicky feelings exactly when I don't need them.

> i live to serve

Around ninety seconds pass. We watch the deceptively normal-looking manor down the street, its turrets and copper roofs rising above the brick walls encircling the property. Unless you know what to look for, it might never occur to you how much it resembles a prison.