Chapter 325: Shinji — Not a Single Actor on This Set Is Easy to Handle!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The string of detonations shook the entire set. The sound and spectacle were impressive, but at the end of the day, they were all just for show—lots of noise and fire, very little actual destructive force.
Which meant Archer's griping from ground zero was exactly that: griping. Smoke and dust? Please. Shinji didn't believe for a second that someone who'd once done freelance work for the Counter Force couldn't handle a little set-dressing haze.
In an ordinary film crew, this scale of pyrotechnics would've been staged inside a massive hangar. The high ceilings gave the blast plenty of room, and exhaust fans overhead would vent the smoke in seconds.
But doing it that way risked one fatal flaw: the smoke might billow in the "wrong" direction, ruining the visual continuity.
So Shinji refused to run fans during filming. He let the smoke fill the set naturally, only sweeping it out with magecraft once the cameras stopped rolling.
The magi responsible for laying the enchanted jewels were, frankly, the best demolition artists the global film industry had to offer.
Long before the ignition, they'd crunched the numbers and run simulations. The blasts were calculated to the last ember.
It really drove home the truth: when handled properly, explosions were art—man's purest romance.
—As long as you were standing outside the fireball admiring it, not inside.
"Cough—cough."
At last, Archer stumbled out of the rubble, soot-streaked and clutching the camera.
"Shirou Emiya."
His expression was darker than his skin tone, and he all but growled as Shirou handed him a towel.
"Next time I run my mouth before one of Shinji's shoots, stab me in the back and send me straight to the Throne of Heroes."
Shirou gave a weak laugh. "It… probably won't come to that?"
"Then you go in there next time!"
Archer dropped the camera onto a rack and scrubbed at his face with the towel like he was trying to erase the last five minutes from existence.
"No way. I'm not stupid," Shirou shot back instantly. Heroic Spirits might shrug off the blasts, but a flesh-and-blood human like him? A fireball was still a fireball, smoke and toxins included.
Shinji had drilled that into him on day one: stay clear of live detonation sets.
"Leave that kind of work to the Servants. We humans should keep our distance. Look at Tsuburaya Productions—guys who spent their lives in the soundstage with pyrotechnics. Short lifespans, every last one."
That comment had left Kazuo with very mixed feelings. Considering the lifespans of his family elders, though, he hadn't been able to argue—aside from his father, who never directed and only managed the company, none had lived long.
Archer, being among the first Servants Shirou had summoned, knew Shinji's stance well. He turned and eyed the equally soot-covered Fujino's actress, Hinako Akuta.
"You're not a Servant, are you?"
"Correct. But I'm also not alive, so a little blast dust won't cut my lifespan short." She glared back with open irritation. "That's why he never gives me a stand-in."
From behind the monitors, Shinji finally looked up, grinning.
"C'mon, Gucchan. Life's about collecting experiences. Someday, when you return to Miss Tanaka's embrace, wouldn't it be a shame if you'd never once experienced being blown up?"
Hinako narrowed her eyes.
"What possible meaning would that regret have? By that logic, should I have gone to Hiroshima just to sample 5,000 degrees Celsius? And who the hell is 'Miss Tanaka'?"
Shinji merely pointed at the ground and said nothing.
In a world like Type-Moon's, where divinity hovered a mere three feet above one's head, he wasn't about to casually speak the name of "that little loli Gaia."
Hinako watched Shinji play the aloof master and snorted, her temple twitching twice in irritation.
Other Heroic Spirits might be bound by contract, forced to put up with Shinji's antics, but she? She was different. With nothing more than a business agreement tethering her to him, she was one of the few who could actually fight back.
Especially after enduring Shinji's endless stream of crazy stunts recently, she was already close to snapping.
"So, what else do you want me to 'experience,' huh?" she asked with biting sarcasm. "March through fire? Climb a mountain of blades? Or should I play the scenes of Wukong holding up mountains and seas for you?"
Shinji didn't even blink, ticking off his fingers one by one.
"For this movie alone? You've still got a beating scene, a simulated case of abdominal cramps, and… oh right, an appendectomy. Without anesthesia."
"Tch— what kind of godawful workplace is this?"
Hinako bared her small canines, looking one second away from sinking them into Shinji's neck like a vampire.
But she held herself back at the last moment. Shinji's paychecks were enormous. No matter how much torment she went through on set, her bank account more than made up for it.
Truth be told, despite her long life, Hinako had spent most of it away from the mortal world. She didn't exactly have much in savings. Shinji's contract offered her the highest wage she'd seen in centuries.
With that in mind, she flashed him a bright, too-cheerful smile.
"Then I suppose I should be thanking you, Shinji. A thousand years, and I've finally gotten to experience such fresh and novel torments. So? What else do you want me to do? I'm all ears~"
This time, Shinji grimaced.
"That's just gross. Don't tell me you're actually a closet masochist."
"Matou↑ Shin↓ji↑!!"
"Calm down! Calm down, Gucchan, you need to breathe!" Shirou rushed in to soothe her as she practically shook with fury. He glanced around nervously.
"Wait— aren't we missing someone?"
The reminder jolted Archer as well.
"That's right. Shiki's stunt double—"
Everyone turned toward the settling smoke and crumbling ruins of the set. There, lying face-down in a spreading pool of blood, was a woman in a kimono.
—Huh?!
Face-down… in a pool of blood!!
"Somebody help! Okita's coughing up blood again!"
"The stunt double's down!"
"Get a doctor, now!"
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"Aah, aah… I'm so sorry, everyone. Really made a mess of things."
After several frantic minutes, the collapsed woman—Okita Souji herself—came to and scratched her head with an embarrassed smile.
"You… are you really a Heroic Spirit?" Even after spending some time with her, Archer still couldn't quite believe it.
"Of course I am! No human could match Okita's spee—koff!"
She slapped her chest for emphasis, but hit too hard and immediately sprayed another mouthful of blood.
"Hey!"
Everyone jumped back in unison.
Sure, Heroic Spirit blood vanished after a while, but psychologically, nobody wanted to be splattered by it.
From a distance, Shinji pressed his finger to his temple and let out a long, weary sigh.
He'd avoided summoning Musashi because he was afraid of rolling the "grandpa version." So he went with the safer pick: Okita.
In hindsight, that had been a mistake. He'd have been better off just making Yan Qing cross-dress. After all, in Fate/Stay Night no one had ever complained about him playing Kojiro.
From a pure acting standpoint, Okita wasn't bad. Whether wielding daggers or a katana, she could capture that same bleak elegance Shiki embodied.
In a way, it really did suit Okita's original nickname—Sakura Saber.
But her biggest flaw was that she was far too fragile, even less durable than Shiki herself.
Once she got moving, it was practically guaranteed: every take, she'd spit up a couple mouthfuls of blood. If the scene demanded a dash or sudden thrust, odds were fifty-fifty she'd keel over midway, coughing red onto the floor.
Granted, so long as she didn't actually collapse, the blood evaporated quickly enough without causing major issues. Still, her habit of randomly spewing crimson was a nightmare for the filming schedule.
At least today's scene wasn't too bad—she'd managed to finish her action before face-planting.
But later… there was the parking lot battle. Several long takes. All continuous shots. If "Shiki" suddenly started vomiting blood mid-sword duel, what was he supposed to do—explain it away as Fujino sneak-attacking and turning Shiki's guts into paste?
"…Wait a sec. That's actually… not a bad idea."
Shinji looked Okita up and down, seriously contemplating how to control her blood-spewing timings.
Could he… use a Command Seal for that?
Just then, Okita stiffened mid-wipe, like a prairie dog sensing danger. She glanced around warily, muttering, "Huh? Someone's plotting against me—gahh!"
She promptly coughed up another spray of blood.
Shinji pinched his brow, silently calculating how many liters she had left before she passed out. He sighed, then turned to one of the assistants.
"Notify Touko. Have her prepare a Shiki doll. If this girl bleeds herself unconscious, we'll swap in the puppet as a stand-in."
He wasn't here today just to watch one explosion scene. There were more shots to sabotage—er, direct. To keep things moving, he decided that whenever they filmed less critical sequences, the puppet could cover for Okita.
While Shinji gave orders, the rest of the crew shifted equipment across the set to a tower block at the far corner.
The next scene was Fujino Asagami's introduction—her brutal "debut kill," twisting a thug into nothing with her Mystic Eyes, warping an entire floor of the building along with him.
By the time Shinji arrived, Archer already had the tracking camera rigged and ready.
Lucky bastard. Since this was only an exterior shot, he'd dodged another round of stuntwork.
Not that he got to sit around sipping tea. As the designated prop-master, he still had to handle the projected glass panes.
When Fujino's rampage hit, Archer would shatter them under his control, scattering shards into the air like crystalline flowers in bloom.
Sure, Shinji could use magecraft freely these days. But when it came to projection magecraft, Shirou and Archer had the finer touch—detailed, precise enough to pass as real. Shinji himself just couldn't manage that level of craftsmanship.
So he stood back, letting the professionals handle their craft.
After a few minutes, the assistant he'd dispatched earlier returned, whispering in his ear:
"Flora-san has arrived."
At that, Shinji temporarily left the set in Archer and Shirou's hands. He headed toward the entrance, and before long, a familiar blonde figure approached.
They embraced warmly, lingering just long enough to rekindle memories of Venice.
"How's the shoot going?" Cloris asked, standing just outside the temporary set. "I heard you ran into trouble in Mifune City?"
"Mostly green actors," Shinji said with a shrug. "Shiki-nee was a little too hyped for her first film. Not exactly stable. But still, the crew managed to wrap the schedule on time."
Cloris arched a brow, lips curling into a sly grin.
"Oh~ 'Shiki-nee,' is it?"
"…"
Shinji's eye twitched.
Great. Just like Archer, he couldn't seem to keep his damn mouth under control.
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