Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 38

Manaka had gone overboard. The stack of textbooks and workbooks on Sakura’s desk looked like something out of a cram school horror story. If she actually finished them all, she could probably skip straight past elementary school without blinking.

Still, Manaka was patient. She went over math problems one by one, explained history like it was a bedtime story, made science feel like magic.

Programming, though? That was different.

She didn’t explain anything. Didn’t even try.

After a while, Sakura caught on. Manaka-nee wasn’t being mean—just the opposite. She was too kind to pretend. If she didn’t know the answer, she didn’t make one up. She just stayed quiet, like silence was the safest thing she could offer. That’s how gentle she was.

But something else was bothering Sakura. A much dumber, sillier problem. She’d spent the whole summer trying to drink bitter melon juice and tomato juice, thinking she’d get used to them eventually.

She hadn’t.

They were still gross. Every sip made her face twist up like she’d bitten into a lemon.

And the thing that really bothered her wasn’t the juice. It was how Manaka-oneechan always looked a little sad when Irisviel-oneechan came over.

Sakura had overheard that Irisviel would be leaving when winter came. That made her feel weird—kind of hopeful, kind of guilty for being hopeful. Maybe things would feel better then?

Having to worry about so many grown-up feelings was making Sakura more observant than most kids her age. She'd started noticing little things—the way people's voices changed, how their faces looked when they thought no one was watching.

One afternoon right before fall started, Sakura woke up from her nap and saw a blonde girl sitting by the window, looking all sparkly in the sunlight. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and asked softly:

"Manaka-nee?"

"Yes, Sakura? What is it?" Manaka answered sweetly, balancing a tea tray in her hands.

"I made a friend online."

"Oh? That's wonderful," Manaka said, smiling.

"She goes to this fancy girls' school. It's full of really smart, polite girls from super rich families. Like, a hundred of them, all from these important households. The tuition costs a fortune, and their parents have to keep donating money all the time. When they go on school trips, they stay at these expensive hotels in Kyoto and eat fancy food from real lacquer bowls. Every year they have to take etiquette classes at some fancy hotel. It sounds like a completely different world."

"Mmhmm." Manaka blinked and smiled at her like a big sister listening to a cute story.

"The girls in her class all live in these amazing neighborhoods. Like Sanbancho in Chiyoda, Moto-Azabu in Minato, Denenchofu in Ota, Seijo in Setagaya..."

"What about those places?" Manaka tilted her head, looking more bored than confused.

"They're some of the fanciest areas in all of Tokyo. You really didn't know that, Manaka-nee?"

"Mm... okay?"

"I really like talking to her. She even sent me pictures of her house. The yard was huge—it would probably take forever just to walk all the way around it. And she has two giant dogs that are basically the size of cars, and they just eat steak for dinner like it's no big deal... But she still feels bad about herself. Because she lives in Chiba.”

Sakura thought about how people always seemed to be looking at what other people had instead of being happy with their own stuff. It seemed kind of sad. She wanted to tell Manaka-oneechan that, but she was scared to say it out loud and could only hope Manaka-oneechan would figure it out on her own.

…

Manaka clearly didn’t like what Sakura was trying to tell her—tonight’s dinner had way too much vinegar in it.

Perfect Manaka-oneechan would never mess up like that by accident, so she totally did it on purpose.

After all, Master didn't really like sweet and sour pork, but Irisviel-oneechan had tried some last time and said it was pretty good.

Oh well. Artoria-oneechan ended up eating all of it anyway.

And finally—finally—Sakura got to see Artoria-oneechan make a little frowny face. Maybe she was imagining it, but it was kind of cute.

Still, Artoria-oneechan was really nice about it. She probably just told herself that sour food was fine too, in its own way.

Everyone seemed to have their own problems lately, but at least fall was almost here.

Oh, and Onii-sama's hair had gotten a little longer. He looked really handsome.

Sakura politely finished her bitter celery-melon juice, said excuse me, put on her pink slippers, and headed back to her room.

She'd been learning C++ for more than three months now. The more she learned about it, the more sure she became:

This is an evil civilization.

…

Fuyuki.

The church on the hill remained lit long after the rest of the city had gone to sleep. A halo of golden light spilled from the stained-glass windows, casting strange, saintly shadows over the gravel path that led up to the door.

Inside, the air felt older than the walls. Risei stood near the altar, shoulders squared beneath the weight of his robes, his expression unreadable—less a man in prayer than a man standing watch. His son, Kirei, lingered near the base of the statue, staring at the black-and-white sword fragments laid out before him like offerings. His gaze, still and depthless, mirrored a man who’d long since forgotten how to feel surprise.

Risei said. “We’ve recovered the fragments. They were forged in the Warring States era, by smiths whose names turned into legends.”

He didn’t mention the possibility that the pieces might be fakes. He didn’t have to. The thought passed between them like smoke—present, but invisible.

Tokiomi stood by the tall arched window, arms behind his back, watching the moonlight scatter across the floor. He smiled, not as a man amused, but as one who’d already decided things would go his way. “As expected of Kotomine-kun,” he said. “Surely this will summon a Heroic Spirit worthy of the name.”

Risei allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. “You give us too much credit,” he replied, eyes creasing with the faintest hint of pride. “But I’m glad we made it in time.”

Their alliance was more than just strategy—it was inheritance. The Kotomine and Tohsaka families had learned how to survive Fuyuki together. And survival, in this world, required knowing which truths to say aloud—and which to keep folded between lines.

"Kirei." Risei turned to his son. "It's time."

The summoning circle shimmered faintly beneath their feet.

Kirei stepped forward and raised his right hand. The Command Spells, crimson and sharp, glowed against his skin.

And then, without hesitation, he began to chant.

At the same time, the jewel pinned to Tokiomi’s chest began to glow.

It was faint at first, just a soft pulse of red light. But then the summoning circle responded. The entire chapel seemed to brighten at once, as if the light wasn’t shining but spreading—rushing to fill every corner of the room.

Inside that brilliance, a figure stepped through.

He moved with the ease of someone used to arriving late and still being in control. The red cloak that followed him looked worn, not ceremonial. His white hair caught the light, but his eyes didn’t reflect it. His skin was darker than expected—weathered, like he’d lived more lives than he should have. The suit he wore fit tightly across his frame, every line of him built for combat.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. A little rough.

“Servant Archer. I answer your summons.”

Kirei looked at him for a long moment before asking, “Who are you?”

It wasn’t meant as a challenge. In the Grail War, Servants were drawn by relics, not names. It wasn’t unusual for a Master to summon a legend they couldn’t immediately recognize.

But even so, there were certain things a Master needed to know.

Abilities. Allegiances. A name would be a good place to start.

Archer didn’t answer. He didn’t move, either. He just stood there, watching Kirei in silence.

“There’s no need to be cautious,” Kirei said. “They’re allies.”

He assumed Archer’s silence was because of Tokiomi. Servants could sense the presence of other Masters, even without being told. And while most understood the basics of the war upon arrival, some took longer to adjust.

Kirei wasn’t worried. Not yet.

But he was paying attention.