o. o. o.

The next day:

Waver leaned against a wall on a seemingly random street smoking a cigar. He had taken up the habit only a few months earlier, and even though it was somewhat unhealthy, it helped cool his nerves down. He had always been rather short tempered, and he assumed it was part of the reason why until recently many of the teachers in the Clocktower had always looked over him despite his hard work and promise.

Looking up at the sky, the teen wondered if he honestly thought he would be in Fuyuki city again after coming back to England. The experiences he had here were truly traumatizing yes, however they played a huge part in helping him grow up. Slightly to his side he could see the bridge and river where he had seen two servants die in spectacular yet horrifying ways.

The first was Caster when he immersed himself into an amoeboid-like giant tentacle water monster and after much trouble was finally taken out by Saber's Excalibur… and the other was on the bridge when Archer and Rider fought one another with their strongest Noble Phantasms…

A few houses away, an old man walked out of his home with a fairly large amount of trash and dragged it to the curb. He was a foreigner easily, western European or American from the looks of things, however that was not that surprising since this part of Fuyuki had a fairly high immigrant population.

Waver glanced at the old man with a barely interested look on his face as the geezer grunt under his load before chuckling under his breath. Dropping the butt of the cigar on the ground and stomping on it to kill the embers, Waver sighed and walked over to the man. "Need some help old timer?" He asked in English.

"Heh." The man chuckled as he lurched the large bag again before turning around to the offering passerby. "That would be well appreciated. My back isn't what it used to be, especially in this heat. Thank…" He paused as he saw the teen's confident smirk. "… you…"

"It's been a while." The magus chuckled as he walked up to the bag and moved it the rest of the way. It wasn't that difficult for him even though he was of average size. He didn't mind as much getting his hands dirty from time to time, though his pride still limited him at some points.

That, and his progressively more expensive clothing.

Brushing his hands against one another he turned around. "How's life been gramps?"

Glen MacKenzie and his wife Martha had been Waver's room and board during the previous war. Hypnotized into believing he was their grandson, they housed and treated the boy (and later Rider in his corporal form much to Waver's initial shock and mental strain) as if he was their own. Surprisingly, whether due to a mistake on Waver's part or because the old man had a stronger than expected resistance to magic, Glen had managed to deduce on the last few days of the war that Waver wasn't his grandchild.

However despite this he allowed the teen to stay for multiple simple reasons. The boy's presence made his lonely wife happy, Waver didn't seem to be taking advantage of them other than for room and food, and because Waver seemed to be an honest kid that was just involved in something rather big.

When Waver finally left their home, he had hypnotized Martha to forget everything regarding his stay at the house other then "their grandchild had stayed over for a few weeks and she truly enjoyed it", which wasn't hard since she truly was happy during his stay according to Glen.

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As for the old man himself… Waver didn't do anything. It was a major breach of protocol as far as the magus association was concerned, but to be blunt about it the old man wasn't going to say anything to anyone. He knew the boy was involved in something big and he was old enough to know to stay out of it and too old to do anything about it.

"Waver." The Canadian man whispered before walking closer. "Is that really you?"

"Come on now." The teen smirked. "Your memory shouldn't have gotten that bad after only three years Glen."

"Yes but… you're not short anymore." The man blinked, causing the magus' smirk to drop instantly. "And you actually look like you've done some physical work. And you actually have skin color. And…"

"Ok!" Waver grunted with a twitching eyebrow. "I get it, I was a stick and looked like a closet shut in back then." He sighed. He didn't like to admit it, but he did spend a bit too much time in the libraries and inside back then. "You… you haven't changed a bit though."

"I'm old and I still have my hair." The Glen chuckled as he walked inside his home and invited the teen. "I consider that an achievement far beyond the average for my age group." The two walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. "Martha's out with some of her friends playing bridge. She's started quite the club." A dry laugh escaped his lips before shaking his head and putting on a tired expression. "It's nice to see you again, but what are you doing back here Waver? When you left you sounded as if it was for good. Not to mention that around the time you appeared…"

Waver nodded, understanding what the old man was implying. Even though the holy grail war was meant to be kept secret, it didn't stop a sky scraper, two military fighter jets, a good portion of the nearby landscape, and an entire section of the city from being absolutely destroyed. Not to mention the total death count…

"No. I'm here because a friend asked me to come here and help him out with something." He paused and looked around. "However, I wouldn't count out something like that from happening again in, say hypothetically seven years."

Glen's eyes widened in shock. "You mean you were responsible for…"

"I was involved." The teen stated tersely. "I won't deny that, however neither me nor Alex performed any of those… actions." He grit his teeth. The Clocktower was well known for performing rather inhumane and distasteful actions from time to time, however Waver himself was among the ones that preferred to keep those not involved from getting hurt. What Caster did to all those kidnapped people when he walked into the "man's" lair… all those people both living and dead who had been warped in inhumane ways…

Swallowing the bile that was making its way up his throat from the terrifying memories, the magus continued. "I have no control over how things are managed, and I'm breaking a lot of rules just by letting you know now. However, odds are likely that similar… events, may happen around that time." He warned again in a soft tone.

"Why don't you do something about it then?" The old man asked worriedly. "Warn the locals. Surely the police…"

"Glen, remember how I got you to let me stay in your home for over a month?" Waver hinted. "I was being considerate and soft compared to what many others could and would do. The police are useless. Plus this has been happening once every sixty years for the last two centuries. This decade wait caught everyone off guard, and even then only a handful know of it at the moment. The less you say about this, the better it is for everyone." He closed his eyes. "I'm helping out someone that's trying to make this upcoming event the last one."

"Waver…" The old man looked at the frowning teen with a concerned gaze before sighing. "You're probably right. It's not my place to question something that I have no part of and it's still up in the air in whether or not I live that long anyway."

"Don't tell anyone. Period." Waver warned. "I know of several people to be extremely wary of in this city that you would never suspect. One in particular is someone whose day job is supposed to be to listen to others and keep secrets."

"I see…" Mused the old man, already having a good idea of whom Waver was wary of. "Oh well. Martha and I were thinking of maybe moving back to America within the next couple of years anyways so that we can be closer to our kids in case we really need them. Seven years is plenty of time to do that." He got up and walked to the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat Waver? We finally got a new toaster so you don't have to put tons of jam on it in order to make it eatable."

The magus snorted, having not expected that Glen had been thinking along the same lines he was when they ate breakfast those years ago, feasting on soggy bread and juice. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

o. o. o.