Shirou's Thirty Million Avatars

So I glanced back at Sakura and just came out with it:

"Isn't it normal for sisters to have a little spat? Instead of worrying about that, aren't you going to see your father?"

"No! Dad definitely wouldn't want me or Mom to see him like this."

Rin Tohsaka paused, then said quietly:

"Besides, I think Dad brought it on himself."

"Oh...? How do you figure?"

"Uncle Kariya must have been standing up for Sakura, right?"

Then Rin shifted gears with a smile:

"You two look pretty free—how about coming with me to join the tournament? We can't enter the Master Tournament, but the Citizen Tournament is no problem."

"No, not interested." Shirou shook his head slightly.

"Sakura's not interested either?" Rin leaned in toward Sakura again.

"Mm."

"Sakura must want something, right? A ton of gold could buy a lot of stuff."

"No."

"Didn't Sakura say before she wanted a Barbie doll?"

"Don't want it anymore."

"Then what does Sakura want now? After I win the prize money, I'll buy it for you."

"Nothing."

"Then—"

No matter how enthusiastically Rin kept fishing for conversation, Sakura just stared at the ground, cold and detached, like a robot with an auto-reply function.

Finally, Rin stopped, slumping as she looked at Sakura.

Her little sister hated her.

In that moment, she suddenly felt like crying.

Compared to the awkward sisters, Shirou kept his eyes on the projection in the sky.

He was curious about the fight's outcome.

In the empty arena, there was no cover at all.

That kind of setting was extremely disadvantageous for a magus killer like Kiritsugu Emiya.

But his combat experience was so rich that Kayneth couldn't compare at all.

The two traded blows—modern firearms versus a Noble Phantasm—making for a highly entertaining spectacle.

Inside the arena, a gunshot rang out, and Kayneth spat a huge mouthful of blood, collapsing to the ground in struggle.

Nero appeared and announced loudly:

"I hereby declare the winner of the second Master Tournament match—Kiritsugu Emiya."

Kayneth was finished.

Seeing that Nero didn't seem inclined to save him, Shirou shook his head slightly.

Entering the tournament carried risks; fighting required caution.

Kayneth had been hit by an Origin Bullet, mortally wounded. Even if Kiritsugu didn't finish him off, his tragedy was already sealed.

Next up was Waver versus Kirei Kotomine—it was amazing he even dared to sign up.

The projection in the sky shifted again. Inside the arena, Kirei Kotomine stood alone on the stage, with no one around him front, back, left, or right.

From the looks of it, Waver had chosen to run?

Nero flickered and reappeared on the stage.

Raising her right hand, she said with a smile:

"It seems that contestant Waver has decided not to continue the match and has chosen to flee."

"I'll count down then: 10, 9, 8... 0."

"Time's up! Due to contestant Waver's forfeit, contestant Kirei Kotomine automatically wins the third Master Tournament match."

"Next, we'll draw lots to decide the semifinal contestants."

Nero waved her right hand, and a cardboard box materialized at her feet.

She bent down, pulled out a slip of paper, glanced at it, and smiled:

"Then, the semifinal contestants for the Master Tournament have been decided: Kirei Kotomine and Kiritsugu Emiya. Kariya Matou gets a bye."

"Considering neither of them expended much energy, the semifinal will officially begin after a five-minute break!"

On the city streets.

Rin Tohsaka looked up at Nero and couldn't help saying:

"Isn't this too reckless? How can it start so quickly?"

"That's why she's called a famous tyrant," Shirou said with a teasing smile.

Chapter 14: Who Would Actively Seek Death

Section 14: Chapter 14: Who Would Actively Seek Death

Pirate World.

Shirou held an ice-made teacup in his hands, continuously exerting force to lower its temperature.

This was one of his daily training tasks—by doing this, he could develop his Devil Fruit without drawing attention.

Although the Snow-Snow Fruit involved temperature, it wasn't a temperature-based fruit; it could only lower temperatures indirectly.

Thus, the difficulty of development was considerable.

Even though he focused solely on this direction, progress remained slow.

"Sigh... I want to watch the matches too. The Nero Festival with Servants and Masters is bound to have plenty of fighting—it must be really lively."

As he sighed, a voice suddenly came from beside him:

"Yes, I'll arrange it immediately."

"Huh...?"

Shirou instinctively snapped back to reality and turned to look, but the direction the voice came from was already empty.

"He left? What did I just say? Where did he go?"

Shirou stared blankly at the air, puzzled. After a long moment, he resumed his struggle with the ice teacup in his hands.

About ten minutes later, a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere, bowing his head respectfully:

"The Arena is ready. If you're interested, please follow me."

"Oh...?"

Shirou was momentarily stunned but quickly caught on.

He had just said something about wanting to watch matches and fighting, so had this man heard him and gone to arrange it?

"Alright, lead the way."

"Yes, please follow me."

Soon, Shirou followed the man to the Arena and sat down in the most conspicuous seat in the center.

At the moment, perhaps due to the hasty arrangements, Shirou was the only one in the audience.

"Begin."

"Yes."

The man standing beside Shirou clapped his hands.

The next moment, two young women in shackles were brought to the center of the Arena.

They were two very beautiful girls, around fifteen years old, their ragged clothes unable to hide their devilish figures.

What caught Shirou's attention most was that he recognized one of the girls.

"Is this the Martial Combat you arranged?"

"Yes!" The man immediately knelt on one knee. "I heard you mention words like Nero, which sounded like a woman's name, so I took the liberty of arranging this. Please punish me."

"No, get up. I'm just a bit curious."

Shirou's gaze lingered on one of the girls in the arena as he slowly spoke:

"If I remember correctly, that girl isn't one of our family's slaves, is she?"

"Last week, the head of the family won a batch of slaves at the Arena. That girl was one of them."

"I see."

So Hancock had become my slave without me even knowing—how "terrible."

"I rarely watch Martial Combat. How is it usually arranged?"

"It's roughly divided into two types: Martial Combat and Deathmatch."

"Then let's have a spectator-friendly Martial Combat. Make sure they put on a good show. By the way, are either of them Devil Fruit users?"

"No."

"If I use a Devil Fruit as the winner's prize, what would you recommend?"

"Among the treasures the head of the family won last week, there was a Love-Love Fruit..."

"Ohhh... Is this fate?"

Shirou's lips curled into a grin as he burst into laughter.

"Looks like I'll have to visit the warehouse again later."

Unexpectedly, another batch of treasures had arrived.

It looked like his collection was about to grow again.

But giving the Love-Love Fruit—a Devil Fruit that could enhance one's appearance—to Hancock felt like a waste, no matter how he looked at it.

Although he hadn't yet mastered Observation Haki, he could faintly sense the deep-seated resentment Hancock harbored toward him.

Or rather, she didn't resent him specifically, but all Celestial Dragons.

While fear was the dominant emotion, that hatred was so intense that if she ever got the chance, she'd definitely kill him.

With someone like that, there was no point in handing over the Love-Love Fruit to strengthen an enemy.

As Shirou saw it, Hancock was beautiful now, but that was it—she was nowhere near the world's most beautiful woman.

From this, it was clear just how much the Love-Love Fruit boosted one's looks.

"Start fighting. Whoever loses, I'll give her a Zoan Caterpillar-Caterpillar Fruit."

At those words, the two girls in the arena instantly ignited with boundless fighting spirit. They glared at each other in unison, flames practically blazing around them.

"Haha..."

Shirou laughed again, thinking to himself:

After the match, if I say I was just joking, they'll probably hate me even more, right?

But hey, plenty of debts, no worries—whatever.

Inside the White Mist Space, after swapping memories once more, Coachman Shirou and Young Shirou both looked at Celestial Dragon Shirou with subtle expressions.

"As expected of a Celestial Dragon."

"Heh... Celestial Dragon."