Far behind them, Dirk could still hear the groaning screams of Fuyuki Bridge, its shattered pieces collapsing into the river. By chance, their slab of concrete had managed to brave the waters, and was floating downriver peacefully. Dirk was freezing, wet, and no doubt still in danger, but his mind was already fixed on this task.
With Saber immobilized, he took the kendo blade he had placed within one of his bags, assembling it and placing it into the river. It was hardly a paddle against this steady current, but it made for a good rudder. Orihara considered who had been on which side.
The Westerner and that Rider were on the suburban side. But the Einzbern, Lancer, and that Caster were in Shinto. And I have no idea where that Assassin has gone...
He decided, for the moment, that Miyamachou was the safer bet for tonight. They needed a safe place to recuperate, and he'd rather take his chances in the more sparsely populated zone. A Rider would be no trouble once Saber could move again, and he had no fears toward a Servant he'd fought off, nearly on his own. I'll be prepared for your tricks next time, bastard. You won't scratch me.
It was slow-going, but the slab began to move, at last slamming into the east riverbank at a secluded area. Dirk tossed the bags to the shore before sliding Saber's arm over him. They gingerly tested, and found that he was at least mobile, if not wholly so. Saber was walked to the shore. First things first, Dirk changed his clothes. A black sweater, and a long-tailed blue jacket over that. He wore a set of long underwear, and sweatpants on top of them, to maximize his warmth. He would not be succumbing to hypothermia after all the effort in his escape.
Once in his new set of clothes, the question came of where to go next. Orihara had his answer. On the northern side of Fuyuki, about halfway from the bridge to the eastern border of the city, was an old hotel. Well-removed from most city life, it was nowhere that any out-of-towner would think to say. Shoddy service, subpar rooms. No cable, and they stole the wi-fi that they had. Dirk, on the other hand, suspected that there might be safe haven for them there.
[hr]
A golden chime rang as Dirk dragged himself through the front door of Orihara Motel. At the front desk rested a grubby, middle-aged man with copious amounts of stubble, a garish blue-and-brown letter jacket, and a straw hat tipped over his face. The room itself was in poor condition. Orange walls, the paint starting to peel at the corners. The bordering on the floor was dark lacquered wood, which was a holdover from the much more successful owner that had built this place. They had moved out years ago, leaving room for the current owner to move in and ruin it so thoroughly. The only decoration besides the front desk was a simple coffee table surrounded by musty green chairs. A flowerpot and a completely defunct TV fresh from the 1980s rested on it. The flowerpot was empty.
"Go away." the grim-looking fellow manning the desk said, on instinct. His voice was gruff, and full of so much sloth it made one's skin crawl to hear it. "We're closed for the holidays."
"Uncle Sanosuke."
"Eh?"
The man lifted his hat up just far enough to make out the image before him. His eyes were green, and remarkably bright for a man as basically sleazy as he appeared. Dirk had managed to pull himself up to the front desk, still supporting Saber. Both were still clearly fresh from being near water, the Servant's clothes in particular soaking. More importantly, both had dried and scabbed blood coating much of their bodies. Sanosuke's nephew looked at him with a quiet, standoffish glint in his eye, propping his Servant up against the desk.
"The hell, Dirk?" his uncle asked, more rudely amazed than concerned. "You been street fighting or something? 'Cause if you've come here to hide, I'll tell you now you need to face 'em like a man. And who's this poor bastard?"
"This... is Saber." Dirk told him quietly. The severity in his tone could not be mistaken. "I've been selected in the Sixth Holy Grail War."
For a moment Sanosuke just glared at him from beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes were more like his nephew's than his brother's were, to be certain. After coming to his internal decision, he grunted with contempt.
"So my brother's promises have fallen through yet again. Gotten his own spawn mixed up in this magic psychopathy."
"My father is of no concern to you, nor to me right now." Dirk stressed. "We need a place to stay. Home is too dangerous."
Sanosuke scoffed, his thin and ragged lips curling into a mean grin. "What you mean to say is, you're afraid that you're too weak to defend your parents."
"I am not afraid." Dirk asserted, glaring at his kin. "It was tactically unsound to stay relaxed in my own home. We were attacked on the first night, that proved as much."
"Fine, fine, maybe." the elder Orihara relented. His eyes immediately shifted into sinister, though, as they honed in on Dirk's very soul. "But tell me then. If you're not scared... this place couldn't have been on your path. Why did you come running to your Uncle Sanosuke to hide and protect you?"
Dirk tried to protest. But his words were caught in his throat. His uncle scoffed, smugly, and sneered at him.
"That's what I thought."
Sanosuke put his legs down, taking them off the counter and pointing to the door. "Get out."
Dirk's eyes focused, and stared, shocked, at his blood relative. "You can't--"
"I can, and I just did." his elder replied coldly. "I'm no magus. Whatever delusions you have in your head, I can't protect you. You're no safer here than anywhere else. Now go."
For a brief moment, the Oriharas locked eyes. The wills of both stood against one another, vying for dominance. They both squinted, the tension rising in the air as if caught in the ever-tightening strings of a violin playing its highest note. Dirk reached into his pocket, pulling out a stack of money.
He slammed 12,000 yen onto the table. Sanosuke stared silently at the cash.
"Give me a room." Dirk demanded. There was no edge to his voice, or anger. Only a simple self-assurance that he had just won.
When Sanosuke pocketed the bills, this was proven. His uncle reached behind him to the wall, not particularly caring which key he selected. He tossed it to Dirk, who caught it and pocketed it. He then slammed down another 4,000.
"I'll need a laptop while I'm here."
Dirk believed he could see his Uncle's eye twitch as he took the yen, retrieving a small computer from out of sight. He practically shoved it into his nephew's hands. Dirk put it into one of his bags, hoisting it up. He gestured for Saber to come, who did so, now finally at a point capable of independent motion. He looked back only once at his father's brother.
"You say you're closed for the holidays?"
"That's what I tell people." Sanosuke retorted. Dirk was pleased to hear that. Now there wasn't even a chance a foe would share their lodgings.
Their room was at the very end of the ground floor's hallway. Dirk led the way into their room: two beds, a small bathroom with all the fixtures, a microwave oven and a coffee maker, of all things, and several dreadful paintings of sea turtles. It wasn't much, but it was home for now. Orihara slammed their bags and the cooler onto the floor by the bathroom before collapsing into his bed, laptop in hand.
"Make yourself at home, Saber. I have research to do."
