Shirou's Grand Heroic Saga

But Atalanta quickly understood what Karna meant.

Her bow was already drawn, an arrow nocked on the string.

"You're Assassin?" Atalanta recalled Assassin's face. He looked very similar to Father Shirou.

"You all saw through my disguise even though it was so flawless?" Shirou could not help feeling disappointed as he took off his wig.

How was it that those guys in red or black clothes could play double agents so successfully every day, while he failed so badly? Why was that?

How were they so practiced at it?

Throwing off the disguise draped over him, Shirou finally revealed his true face—the one he had never shown even to the Black Faction.

Clad in a white translucent cloak, his muscular upper body bare, Assassin looked unmistakably like someone from the Far East.

"You're Assassin? Not Hassan? How is that possible?" Even Achilles found it hard to believe, but he still drew his weapon and aimed it at Shirou.

"Lancer, you saw through me so quickly. How did you do it? What gave me away?" Shirou asked unwillingly. Surely his appearance and behavioral logic had still matched, hadn't they?

"Sorry, I did not notice anything out of place. Your portrayal, whether in attire or behavior, completely matched Father Shirou's style. Even your voice was identical. However, I once wandered alone, asking after the lives and worth of the weak. That allowed me to see through all falsehoods. Even so, I must praise you. Your disguise was excellent. At first glance, I found no flaw at all."

"So, die in peace!" Rider thrust his spear straight at Shirou's heart.

Shirou shifted slightly aside, and the spearpoint grazed past his body.

"Then aren't you worried about your Master? Aren't you afraid that Assassin's Master might do something dangerous to your Master?"

Hearing Shirou's