Despair plays in cycles between the past and future. Countless ideals were incinerated before that red garment. Yet, do not let this smear of ashes fool you —
Should someone create a phantasmal sweet dream under the guise of false ideals, then he will burn again, facing down the hypocrites of the world till the very end.
No matter where he is, he always remains the steadfast hero of justice.

Most days, the man conducts himself as a composed realist who efficiently completes his tasks.
But similar to seasoned office workers of a certain age, he sometimes betrays the pessimism that experience brings, which fuels a disgust with himself, leading to sharp-tongued comments that slip out whether he intends them or not.

“No, that's not quite right.”
“Most people never overcome the self-loathing that accumulates with age because they can never truly confront the person they once were.”
“Not that confrontation is always beneficial.”
“… Let's just move on from this topic.”

In essence, as long as he avoids direct confrontation with his less mature former self or anyone who resembles that person, the man proves himself an exceptionally stable and mature Servant. While he occasionally grumbles about his current responsibilities, he fulfills every task with absolute dedication and meticulous care.
— Though it bears mentioning that his complaints often cut with such precision and insight that observers wonder if he once pursued a career as an author.

“I can't help being brutally honest. It's in my nature. Truthfully, would anyone who's had their life disrupted by such an irrational, demanding young lady turn out any differently?”

The man's journey began in a time of turmoil.
Like a persistent gadfly that refuses to settle, having lived through the Holy Grail War as a mere mortal, he abandoned his homeland for the world's most volatile regions, raising the banner of righteous judgment — determined to become a hero of justice.

But his journey proved anything but easy. Throughout the world, the man sparked numerous armed rebellions, yet strangely, not one prevailed. Despite escaping over ten assassination plots, hundreds of ambushes, and even several execution squads, he found himself facing the gallows during a short visit to his homeland, betrayed by a former friend.

But that's not why he resents his former self… At least, not the failures.
What he truly loathes is that idealistic boy who dreamed of becoming a companion of justice, yet knew nothing of the price such a journey would demand.

Enforcing one's justice necessitates robbing another of freedom. Implementing justice for thousands inevitably means mountains of severed heads and rivers of blood. Justice may sound like a beautiful word — but its unbearable weight is sufficient to drown the young dreamer in the very ocean of ideals he cherished.

“I've expressed similar thoughts before, but those were simply moments of frustration speaking.”
“Our environment and emotions can dramatically reshape who we are. Even completely identical beings might make entirely different choices when standing at fate's crossroads.”
“Those who resemble me aren't necessarily me, and those who are me don't necessarily resemble me. After all, no one can find salvation beyond the boundaries of their own perspective.”

Ideals will always trample competing ideals, and destinies inevitably destroy other destinies. The young aren't blind to these realities.
But a true companion of justice must remain fearless despite knowing this, as the man has finally learned to value this quality.

Kanshou and Bakuya, these twin blades are the man's weapons of choice, continuously reproduced through Projection Magecraft without a second thought for how many break in battle. Theoretically, any armament the man comprehends thoroughly can be “projected as a counterfeit countless times.” However, due to some entanglement of karma, the man's Projection magecraft only reaches absolute perfection when creating objects that qualify as “swords.”

“Sounds like a merchant selling knockoffs? Well, that's about right.”
“It's hardly the most honorable approach, but it's perfectly tailored for dealing with those self-important types who fabricate rules just to stand above others and exert their authority.”

According to ancient legend, Kanshou and Bakuya were master swordsmiths. A husband-and-wife duo who exhausted every conceivable method attempting to overcome a fundamental limitation: That craftsmen couldn't control the quality of their forged blades, leaving each creation to fate's whims.
From this point, the tale branches into numerous versions. One claims that Bakuya sacrificed herself to the furnace, becoming one with the molten metal, enabling Kanshou to forge blades of unprecedented perfection that would never be equaled.
In the more widely celebrated version, a tyrannical ruler, frustrated by the slow pace of sword forging, executed Kanshou after receiving the masterpiece blades. Then, Bakuya escaped to the countryside with their child. Years later, this grown child encountered a wandering swordsman, and together they plotted revenge against the tyrant, a confrontation where all three ultimately perished together.

Does the man's own destiny mirror these ancient tales? If similarities exist, what did he ultimately sacrifice? Himself, his companions, or perhaps some cherished ideal?
No one knows.
What people do know is that he offered himself as its foundation for the sword residing in his heart — His body serving as steel, his blood as flame.
Though he crafted thousands of blades throughout his journey, in the end, he stood empty-handed, possessing nothing at all. Just like his mindscape.^[1]

“But isn't this precisely what life is about?”
“No sword can remain in one person's possession forever. You must either store it away, pass it to another's hands, or… use it until its very last moment.”
“And only then, can you truly start again with a clean slate.”

Within the Holy Grail War's formal classification system, he man is categorized as a bow user.^[2] This designation might seem like a subtle mockery for someone whose very essence revolves around “swords,” yet the man himself remains unbothered by this apparent contradiction.

“Let's be practical. Isn't eliminating enemies from a distance far more efficient than facing them head-on?”
“Or were you expecting me to act like those swordmasters,^[3] unleashing devastating beams of light that level everything? Don't be absurd. I'm just an ordinary person without their overwhelming magical energy reserves.”

However, contrary to his statements, the man never hesitates to engage in close combat when the situation demands it. Leveraging his practically infinite supply of “Kanshou and Bakuya,” he uses dazzlingly complex sword skills that leave opponents struggling to defend themselves.

“If regular bullets could get the job done, I wouldn't bother going through all this trouble.”
“But if you really wanna learn this move? Spend some time in the kitchen. Star by getting good with a knife.”
“I'm not messing around. Cooking teaches you a lot if you actually think about it. Take meal prep, for instance. You want a great dish on the table fast? You gotta break down every step, figure out what can be done at the same time, and streamline the whole process. Once you get the hang of that mindset, you'll start applying it to everything in your life. It saves you a ton of time.”
“Same with cooking temps. Newbies always think stir-frying means tossing everything into the pan in order until it's all cooked through.”
“That works fine for stuff that can take the heat. But other ingredients? They've got their own ideal cooking time and temp, so they don't always get along.”
“So most of the time, you've gotta sort your ingredients, adjust the heat for each one, and pull them off the burner at just the right moment. Then, bring everything back together to finish the dish balanced, flavorful, and just right.”

Once he starts talking about cooking, the guy shifts gears entirely. Gone is his usual short-and-sharp talk. Instead, he dives into these long, thoughtful monologues, full of hard-won insight. For a man who's spent his whole life on the battlefield, it seems like what defines him isn't justice or suffering, but something quieter. Something like the everyday warmth of a home-cooked meal.

“Like I said before, if you could take out your enemies from a distance with a sniper shot, nobody would risk getting up close and personal. It's the same when it comes to fate.”
“I exist to prove one thing: somewhere out there, in a corner of the world, there are people who have no choice but to fight fate in brutal, hand-to-hand combat, every single day. Because if they don't, they die.”
“I fought for them once. But the world only changed because people kept going, kept fighting fate without pause.”
“As for me… I'm just a man with nothing left, who's still a long way from ever beating fate.”^[4]

One thing's for sure: He's not turning away from his mission to save humanity.
Just like he never says no to cooking for his friends.