Faster. Archer had to run faster. Any moment now the savage, wild animal behind her would catch up. She had to make sure that, when it did, she and her Master were in a suitable battlefield, unlike the dense forest that presently surrounded them. The mass of trees made it very difficult for an Archer-class Servant to do battle, especially when those obstacles were themselves of little consequence to the opposing Berserker, who, by the sound of things, was smashing through them as if they were twigs.
Have you ever heard of the Doomsday Clock? It’s actually not a clock, per se; it’s more of a metaphor. You see, mankind used this clock to measure not the passage of time, but the human race’s proximity to probable destruction. In this metaphor, time began at 00:00 and ended at 12:00—one complete rotation of the hour hand about the face—where 12:00 was symbolic of imminent disaster. The hands of this clock didn’t advance linearly, either; they were adjusted forward and backward in relation to the state of global affairs at the time.
Though the majority of the Shinto district was only developed in recent decades, the parts nearest to the Mion River—in particular, the area surrounding the harbour—have been around much longer. The first major modernisation of Fuyuki began shortly after the Great War, due to strong trade and investment interest from the Western world. Some of the richer arrivals built lavish mansions in Miyama, while others constructed higher-density housing and industrial estates along the river. As such, there lies a relatively small borough of buildings designed in the time’s European style. It was in one of these buildings, situated at the fork of a ‘Y’-shaped intersection, which Assassin’s Master had taken up residence.
Fuyuki City is serviced with three high schools. East of the Mion River, one can find Kitakou High School and Misakihara High School, the latter of which also operates as a middle school. Both facilities, being part of the recently redeveloped Shinto district of Fuyuki, are high-end and modern. West of the Mion River, one can find Homurahara Academy, an establishment that has endured for decades. Consequently, it possesses a classic design that can inspire nostalgia among many Japanese, even if they never attended the school themselves. Perhaps it was for this reason that two Master-Servant pairs currently occupied Homurahara.
‘Oliver, I’m booooored!’
I don’t even turn to look at Caprice, instead continuing to half-heartedly throw stale bread at the ducks circling the edge of the pond in front of us. I can see in my peripheral vision, though, that she’s long since given up that activity and is now swinging her legs impatiently at something that I’m sure exceeds the speed of light.
Sparing the preamble, Kizumonogatari (or Wound Tale, to which it has been officially localised) opens with an elaborate, multi-page description of a gust of wind lifting the skirt of a high school girl and revealing her panties. Such are we thrust into the mindset of Koyomi Araragi, the girl’s classmate, and the narrator of the eponymous tale of wounds that we are about to explore.