I don't know what I'm saying.
I don't know what this pain is.
My limbs are burning.
This pain … What was once one blade is now multiplied thousandfold.
This blade- These blades slide down into my back, shrieking though the silent line, the closed and clenched muscles that try to contain everything, begging stop it, stop it, stop it-
Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut.
I keep telling myself this, trying to close the circuit in my mind, but-
I am being consumed by these words.
"I want to be a hero of justice."
"Ah. That's a noble sentiment. A little childish, but we are children, after all. Well, then. Let me ask you this. Do you know the nature of justice?"
"-It's about saving people."
I said it so simply back then. Even as a child, I could say this and understand a little bit of it.
Even in the discussions of two children, we could say these simple things with such understanding.
"Don't you think that's strange? Justice revolves around righting wrongs. There would be no need for it if people didn't commit wrongs. Justice guarantees that wrongs will not happen again."
He gestured grandly. It looked impressive, for our age.
"After all, punitive retribution has been the standard of justice for millennia. You'll have to explain what sort of justice 'saving people' is, Shirou."
I nod. That makes sense.
"I guess … Everyone can be saved. I don't think there has to be one who can't be saved. There can be a justice of 'everyone can be saved.' People really are valuable in that way, Lelouch."
Already, I knew his reply. I had worded it poorly. No, rather …
I forgot to include my assumptions.
There, right there, was his sneer.
"That's self-satisfaction, then. You'd just enable suffering for each 'valued' person. Without consequences, suffering reigns. Punishment has to be given to the wrongdoers, and rewards are given to the champions. It's only fair."
It sounds a bit like a lecture, but I don't blame him. I can't blame him, because he's saying this to reassure himself.
"Every single theory of justice states this- utilitarian, retributive, restorative, and distributive. 'Life for life, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.' Who says that value can't be expressed that way-"
"No. It can't."
"-Shirou?"
He looked at me with widened eyes.
Honestly …
Like him, I was surprised by how I replied.
"That can't be right. No, that can't be right. Those lives- the lives of the wrongdoers, too- they mean something. You're willing to make them suffer, and you're assuming that those people can't be saved."
"And where is this commandment that they can? Shirou, we talked about this. Everything you've said revolves around an ideal without execution or justification. You have no explanation for this sort of salvation."
… He's right. I don't have an answer.
But he's wrong, too.
"But you can't explain it, either. What you want is self-satisfaction too. Somebody hurt Nunnally, and you want someone to blame. Everything you've told me is based on that. That's why you can't explain it."
His face tells me I guessed right.
I didn't give him a chance to reply, and I nodded in self-agreement.
"Your- What is it? Your standard and your basis- that's what it is. You're trying to explain justice in logical standard with an emotional basis. Didn't you tell me that any sort of 'ethos' taints a 'logos' argument?"
"I- But you don't accept my explanations-"
But that was all he said. He thought for a while, and I stood there patiently.
"Then tell me. What sort of ideal is it that lets you say salvation is justice?"
Honestly-
Honestly, honestly, honestly. I couldn't say. That ideal was just that- an idealistic thought.
It was more of 'an impossible pipe dream,' an impossible pipe dream trying to escape the sewage sloshing inside. But no matter what, a superhero would be one if they saved everyone in spite of that.
… I was embarrassed. Even as a child, I knew that 'to be a superhero' was an embarrassing aspiration.
I guess that's why I saved- silenced him with my inadequate reply.
"I'll fight to save people. That's enough."
He was silent at that.
… Most would say 'Isn't that enough?'
But I told him it just was.
Day -4: Impermanent Everyday
January 28, 2017 a.t.b., 1603 hours
Route 5, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11
"And today, we had beautifully chilly and crisp weather to end off this January. Highs in the 30's, folks, so button up those jackets. We have a nor'easter coming in, so the Ministry of Emergency Services is advising all subjects of the Empire to stay indoors when the snow makes landfall at 8PM sharp on the thirtieth-"
"Bishop to E7, Lelouch."
"-but I have always said, why use an Eleven when you can use a robot? I'll admit that the Machlin Corporation has had its rough spots with its staunch advocacy against Numbered employees, but the forefront of industrial technology needs no substitutes. We've done just fine with our Stirling and Mortlock Squire Frames, which, I should mention, are designed entirely by veteran Army personnel after five years of service. We do our part in encouraging growth and evolution in the Homeland. So I say to you, Mr. Colbert, support 100% Britannian now-"
"Queen to B6, then."
"-the House of Lords again has delayed deliberations on the extension of Area Eleven's status as a satellite area in the Britannian Empire, leading to accusations of excessive militarism from the Progressive Party. Reports have come in that the extension was requested by Prime Minister Schneizel, citing regional instability-"
"It's a little hard to drive if you keep changing the channel. Bishop to C3- I mean, C4."
Their motorbike swerved to pass the cars ahead, and they reached the apex of the road from Tokyo to Fuyuki City. The old capital of Japan was heavily modernized in a Britannian fashion, the wide glass panels and steel frames quickly passing by. Daylight and starbursts of reflected sun jumped and flickered on the sea of mirrors. Britannia had fully assimilated Tokyo into its folds, and gilded it with uniformity.
Fuyuki City fared the assimilation better. There were examples of Japanese architecture- a distant temple, several residences- but the Westernization had crept completely over the west, the shining front a stark contrast to the reserved, traditional district.
"Imperial Construction has been facing some difficulties today, but is expected to resume with their Shinjuku Development project later throughout the week. Subjects are advised to restrict activities near the Shinjuku area, due to extensive demolition efforts."
"If it's too hard to multitask, I can wait." Lelouch Lamperouge lowered the book he was reading and closed his eyes.
Dispassionate. Detached. Black hair, sharp and fine features, a violet hue to his eyes. Distinguished, clipped, well-spoken. Brilliant. Any of these described the passenger in the sidecar, but he would rather be defined by the qualities of his mind.
Right now, Lelouch was pitting this mind against the distracted driver of the motorbike he was saddled with. He couldn't see the mild aggravation underneath the helmet, but his friend's exasperation was evident to Lelouch.
Lelouch didn't consider himself one to deny a little mercy to his opponents when they were doing him a favor. "Knight cross Pawn C3. Feel free to answer when you are able to."
"I'm fine. I'll move- Damn. I'll take it- no, Bishop to C5."
"Ah, moving in on my queen, hm? Rook from F8 to E8, check."
"… Here I am, driving, and you decide to attack? You're merciless. King to F1."
"King to H7."
"You're moving your king up?"
"If the king does not lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow?"
"But you're only moving it up because you're probably winning."
"Don't think too low of yourself."
"Oh, that's a simple thing to say. Knight to G5, check."
"King to H6."
"—You're probably laughing at me. Knight back to F3."
"Bishop to E6."
On the imaginary chessboard, Lelouch's black queen was in the open, while the driver had a pair of bishops and a queen aimed straight at the black king. The black rook and bishops still protected the king, but not for long. Still, the driver lacked confidence, guiding the bike through a curve.
"… Bishop captures Queen at B6. I'm probably doing worse than Rivalz."
"No, Rivalz would have went for my bishop. Then, checkmate in four."
"Let me guess, your queen to his king-"
"Which is then sacrificed to allow my knight to smother him in a Philidor Mate. You see? You're getting better."
"… That's unfair, Lelouch. You're just saying that so I can't take back my move."
"And I thought you were a man of few regrets-"
"One of which is meeting you."
"Oh? A pity. Well, it's all self-satisfaction, isn't it? There's no way you or I can change the world." He smiled. "Also, I think you're in checkmate."
The helmet muffled his companion's exasperation. "I swear, if this wasn't Rivalz's bike, I'd have detached the sidecar by now."
"Well, it's a good thing this is Rivalz's-"
The bike accelerated, and Lelouch's reply was cut short by the swerving, bucking, and blaring of a truck barreling right behind his head as a hand shoved his head forward-
"Hang on." Instinctively, Lelouch tried to turn to the source of instruction, but he was again pushed by a firm resistance. "Keep your head down."
The most he could see were his legs, but out of the corner of his eye, Lelouch caught a glimpse of the truck's shotgun rider, a flash of magenta as it passed. She had just got up-
And the bike twisted to the left, knocking Lelouch's head into the side of his seat. The helmet took the brunt of the force, his head had only moved four inches, the bike bucked for a second. It was still enough to cause his head to ring. The worst passed, though. The bike righted itself quickly and disturbed little else about the contents of the sidecar. Lelouch tentatively, painfully raised his head, hearing words in a ringing fog.
"Jeez, that guy almost ran us over."
"You don't say." Lelouch watched the truck speed along, rubbing his neck. It was his turn to be irritated. "Was that necessary?"
"Yeah, unless you'd rather I didn't prevent whiplash." The driver slowed down, expanding the distance between the rampaging truck and the bike. "Where were we?"
"Chess, but I'm not in the mood right now." He pulled the book back up, masking his annoyance. "I actually managed to forget where the pieces were. That's quite an accomplishment-"
"I'm sorry, Lelouch." The driver's gaze was pointedly directed away from his passenger. He almost seemed sheepish.
"Hmph." They continued down the road for another minute in silence, the traffic lightening up and the buildings transitioning from smudges of concrete to gleaming towers of glass and steel. With this shift, Lelouch's mood dissipated. It was unreasonable to blame his companion for avoiding a ten-ton truck in a hurry.
"Since we're fine, I think I do owe you some measure of gratitude."
The driver appeared to be distracted. "What was that, Lelouch?"
Lelouch had to chuckle. It was rare that he ever apologized. "Nothing, you can forget about it."
"… If you say so. I wasn't paying attention. There's something wrong, I'm pulling over."
The motorbike idled over to the side of the road, and the driver dismounted. Lelouch watched his companion with a disinterested curiosity. He didn't usually see him work on anything mechanical, though he knew his friend had a gift for it. His friend opened up the engine casing of the Buell RR1200, holding his hand right over the 1200cc Evo Sportster V-twin engine. It was strange, certainly. His dark visor obscured his countenance, and his head was bowed. If Lelouch didn't know better, he could have sworn he was praying.
But he knew better. It wasn't a prayer, but a repetition. He could hear words from the helmet, muffled but distinguishable.
"It's like a Harley-Davidson … The con-rods are a bit off … The crankpin vibrates too much, that's the problem with these 45 –degree V-twins. Rivalz, you need to maintain this better."
For a moment, the dark visor met Lelouch's gaze behind a yellow-tint.
"Well, it is delicate, but …"
The driver's gloved hand reached underneath into the monoshock suspension, resulting in a click and a purr. He got up, dusting off his gloves and mounting back up onto the Buell.
"… You were saying something about gratitude before?"
Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't paying attention. Anyway, there's nothing to question about it."
"With you, there's always a catch."
"How cliché. I'd like to think I'm an honest man. I'll stop by the Copenhagen to express my gratitude."
"That's weirdly worded. You know, in some cultures, that's a confession."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Were you looking for one?"
The driver didn't answer at first. "—Yeah, someday …"
From the corner of his eye, the driver caught Lelouch chuckling. "Hey, don't get the wrong idea. I'm definitely not looking for one from you."
Lelouch only replied after he stopped laughing. "That's funny. That's self-satisfaction too, isn't it?"
"You're one to talk, though."
"Really, now? Do tell."
"—Nevermind. I won't feed your ego."
"Calling the kettle black, superhero?"
"Call me what you like, but it's a hero's duty to stop the villain."
"Mm, save the day, obtain the damsel, slay the dragon. That must be nice. Ah, but you want to befriend the dragon. Self-satisfaction again, me calling you a superhero. You're just a psychopath."
"And that's why I'm friends with you, Lelouch. You're the biggest dragon of them all."
The glass tower of decadence on the edge of two cities rapidly approached the motorbike, gleaming in the fading afternoon light. It was only a quarter after three, but the tipsy nobles and their reluctant escorts were already leaving from a night and a day of debauchery. Now was the time for marginally more legal activities to commence.
Lelouch clambered out of the sidecar, unbuttoning his coat and placing the helmet onto the sidecar's seat. Reaching into the back, he pulled out a slim suitcase, smirking at the driver's surprise. "You thought I came unprepared?"
"—That better not be your tuition payment. If Milly heard about this-"
"Well, I'm at the hero's mercy. Forgive my trespasses, but my sins are many."
In exasperation, the driver shook his head, the neon lights and the daylight mixed in his visor. "Like I'm one to go to for forgiveness. I guess you've made up your mind. Go eat some nobles, maybe then the damsels will be safe from your strange wit."
"You're encouraging me? I thought you would be trying to change the tiger's stripes." With some effort, Lelouch slung the suitcase over his shoulder. He turned around, barely catching his driver's reply.
"Speaking of tigers, I'm late. Good luck, Lelouch."
"Thanks. Send my regards to Ms. Fujimura."
The purr of the engine filled Lelouch's ears briefly, and the wind ruffled his hair. He didn't need to look back to know his friend had fled from a palace incongruent with his friend's ideals. Still, their goals were the same. They both needed to work. For Lelouch, this was the easiest way.
No matter what he says, honest labor is his trade. Mine … Well, the arrogance of those that have will easily lead to the dismay of those that have not.
Nodding to the bouncer, he slipped past the initial entertainment and placed his suitcase on the counter of a discreet booth, in the back of the room.
"I'll take the usual, if it isn't too much trouble."
The suitcase vanished, and a disembodied voice appeared through the bars. "Certainly, sir. I've already arranged for you to relieve your representative." Lelouch heard a rustling sound, the shuffling of the counting machine as his resources were fed inside. "This is quite a bit more than normal, sir. I do hope you're good for it. I'd hate to see a young man like you in trouble with a shark."
"Loans? I wouldn't dream of it, Matthias. One would take your concerns as a lack of confidence, you know."
"My apologies, sir. I meant no offense." The voice slid over a black card. "The total is two thousand, five hundred, twenty-six pounds- my apologies, eighty-six pounds, and eight pence."
Lelouch took the card, sliding it down his jacket's inner pocket. "Keep the eighty-six and pence. It's yours."
"Thank you, sir. Good luck."
In this cruel game … Mm. Eighty-six is a bit much to pay for luck, but it's useful to have allies here.
He shook his head. What am I saying? It's not as if I have much to spare. I guess I'm becoming quite soft.
Aren't I, Nunnally?
"Eh? Oh, good afternoon, sir-"
"Hey, it's me, Neko-san."
The dark visor and sleek helmet were raised, revealing red hair and gold-amber eyes. A strong brow and jawline made his profile distinct, recognizably different from the patrons of the bar. His smile and wide eyes contained the naivety of youth.
There was a steadfastness that accompanied this young man, along with something of an inconvenient stubborn streak.
And yet …
This presentation of a student working in a bar seemed too good to be true.
His coworker's mouth remained open for a few seconds, and then she peered behind him.
"Woah, that's a nice bike! Where'd you get it, Emiya-n?"
"A friend let me borrow it. How's it going?"
Shirou Emiya ruffled his hair and unzipped his motorcycle jacket, freeing his broad build of the Kevlar-reinforced padding and the tight protective wear. A black button-down and slacks formed his work attire, and the swish of an apron around his waist completed his uniform.
Otoko Hotaruzuka's face broke out into a wide grin. "You're a little late, but that flashy entrance is more than enough. C'mon, the reds need to be washed!" Her long brown hair and perpetually shut eyes were indicative of her Japanese heritage, almost stereotypically so. Her cheery demeanor and responsible bearing made her appear to be an older sister to her employee, but that position was already taken up by-
"Yooo, Shirou!"
A brutal force started shaking me. Almost as if a tiger had pounced, a force of nature that was unstoppable and infinitely energetic.
"Fuji-nee? Why are you here- hold on, why weren't you at Ashford today?"
"Oh, that place got too stuffy today. The Ashfords'll be fine with a day off, you know." She poked at Shirou's shoulder. "You got here late. What'd you do, have a romp with Milly or something?"
"W- What are you saying? Don't say such inappropriate things with that look, you're going to be twenty-five this year- Wait. Neko-san." Shirou could smell the cloying scent off of the rambunctious teacher, her short brown hair disheveled and her tiger-stripe shirt stained. "Why does Fuji-Nee have alcohol this early?"
"Huh?" Otoko reached behind the bar and onto the hundred-bottle-wide rack, her hands moving about under the redwood counter. A frown rapidly distorted her features. "Taiga! I told you not to take anything!"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, daijoobuuu." A bottle appeared behind Shirou's back, waving around like the ebb of a particularly rough tide.
"Give that back! Emiya-n is here, be responsible, you idiot!"
"Owwww, stop shouting, it's just been a long day." She took another swig and swung her arm around Shirou's shoulders, pulling him close with a tiger's leer. "I don't want to think about the yakuza or anything like that right now. Let me talk to Shirou."
Otoko shook her head, pulling at Taiga's shoulders. "But- At least let Emiya-n get to work! Jeez, Taiga. Stop being so lazy."
"But I have to talk to Shiroouu-ouuu-ouuu." The tiger tried to appear adorable. She pulled her hands together up to her chin, cocking her head with wide eyes. The effect was slightly ruined by a wide yawn, her fangs showing for a minute before she smacked her lips. "No fair. There's going to be divine justice for you, Mr. Hotaru- Hotaruzuko- kaaa."
Patience reserved for the next day's late-night shift began to be expended at a rapid rate for Otoko. Trying to find words to say, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Before she could rip into her old classmate, Shirou nodded to his employer.
"I'll talk to Fuji-Nee for a minute, Neko-san. I can stay a bit later."
She considered it for a few seconds. "Well, as long as she doesn't take up too much time, I guess it's alright. But she's covering your wages and the drinks." Otoko glared at Taiga, but Shirou could see some concern for her friend underneath her eyelids. She spun around and returned to the counter.
"Well, Fuji-Nee? I hope you're happy-?"
No reply.
The lack of a retort startled Shirou. This was a far different Taiga than Shirou was used to, a tiger morose and glum. As he inspected her in earnest, her distress was far more persistent than he realized.
She had changed out of her suit and into her apron and tiger-print shirt, both thinned and faded with age. It was the last set of Japanese clothes that Taiga had bought before she had to wear the uniform required of teachers in Ashford. She rarely wore them this early, saving them for her presence at the Emiya residence. A pearl earring was missing on one side. Her eyes were slightly puffy as well.
"Cheer up. Ah, c'mon, tidy yourself up." He remained indecisive. To be honest, Shirou Emiya did not know how to approach a distraught Taiga. Goofy, bizarrely whimsical, and violently gleeful best described his teacher and self-appointed guardian. Though, more often he took care of her than she him.
She continued to look at him, and then abruptly sat down, drink in hand.
"Er, do you want to tell me what's wrong?" I don't know what to do. If this was Milly, or Shirley, or Nina … Maybe not Nina. But this is Fuji-Nee.
"… Shirou. Are we-" She quieted suddenly, staring at her bottle.
"Are we what, Fuji-Nee?"
Again, she turned to Shirou, staring at him, but not looking at him. The bottle was brought up to her mouth without warning.
She wiped her mouth and finally focused on Shirou. "Shirou. Are we traitors?"
"Traitors? What are you talking about-?"
"We're subjects of Britannia, but we're Japanese. We were lucky with the Ashfords, you know."
"Milly said we're the start of an integration program. I don't think it was luck. Kiritsugu was able to arrange it with his acquaintances."
"And that bothers you, right?"
"Well, I don't like taking something without repaying-"
Well, that's why I'm here. I can't do much besides offer my labor.
"Not that. You keep talking about being a superhero. You have to know what's going on in the ghettos. So- what's happening now …" Another swig. "It has to bother you."
Don't ask that. I don't know the answer to that.
"I'm not a superhero."
"Doesn't matter, Shirou. Gotta answer."
And she's right. Tipsy as she is, she's right. That's a rare occurrence. But she's right.
"… Fuji-Nee, why are you asking me this?"
"Doesn't matter. Answer, answer, Shirouuu."
What was it she said before? "I don't want to think about the yakuza or anything like that right now." Traitors.
And involuntarily, Shirou ground his teeth. "Fuji-Nee, don't tell me—"
"Tell you what?"
"Is Raiga—"
But he stopped, recoiling from the sudden touch. Taiga had put her index finger over Shirou's mouth. "Yeah. Maybe it's better if you didn't know. Forget about it, alright?" And suddenly, her mood disappeared.
A sinister smirk appeared, wide-eyed and innocent to all but those who lived with the tiger. "Heeeee. You're always on the losing side because you're the one helping everyone else. You should go home and relax, idiot."
Shirou'd jaw relaxed. "Hey, what do you mean by idiot? I'm not on the losing side if I helped someone and they're able to help themselves by it."
"Man, I'm glad you've gotten so strong, but personally, I wish you were more delicate."
"That's my line. I wish you'd be more sweet."
"You know who's sweet? Sakura-chan's been asking about you. You should visit the dojo more."
That's a strange way of putting it. "Yeah, it's been a while. I'll stop by tomorrow. It'll be nice to see everyone again."
"So I'll drive you there! We'll leave at two, and stay 'till six, and have dinner with Sakura-"
"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself? You still need to teach, and I have to help the student council. And I still need to work here. You know, we still have responsibilities. Please keep that in mind- Fuji-Nee?" He tried his best to look stern. Unfortunately …
An alarming cry burst forth.
"Uwaaaan. Shirou doesn't want to be with his friends. Uwwwaaaaaaaa. You sound like Lelouch, you really do. A stranger has taken over Shirou's body." Taiga hid her face behind her hands, apparently sobbing.
"-! Fuji-Nee, you're being unreasonable." But her words had hit home, even if her theatrics didn't. It has been a long time. And I do want to see how everyone's been doing. It's been three years since I left.
And since when did responsibilities come before people? I think I have been hanging out with Lelouch too much. "… Yeah, I'll go. I'll wake up early to take care of everything. So- ah, please don't cry."
She peered up from her shield. "Really? You'll have dinner with us?"
"Yeah." He sighed in exasperation. "Alright, I promise. This weekend, Sunday."
Her joyous response nearly knocked Shirou off his chair. "Hoorraaaaayy! I'll hold you to your word, then!"
She staggered around, dragging Shirou around in circles. "Yaaaaay-"
"OY, TAIGA!"
The tiger turned to see an infuriated cat. "Eh- Otoko?"
"SHUT UP AND PAY UP!"
The tiger had waltzed out meekly after that.
Yeah, she shouldn't have spent all of that money. And on drinks, of all the whimsical items she buys. She doesn't even receive her paycheck until …
"Ohohoho, Shirou! I get it tomorrow!"
… I should have expected that.
Other customers came and went, but none so interesting as that tiger. The day passed uneventfully, from refilling glasses to checking vintages to-
Really, nothing special.
And before he knew it-
It was nine at night.
"Neko-san, the crates go here?"
"Yeah, that's fine." Otoko sipped her hot sake, curled up in front of the heater. "Oto-san, Emiya-n needs his pay."
The man in a faded shirt and vest smiled. "Of course. Let's see …" He shuffled the bills in his wallet. "Here. Otoko, is this enough?"
"Hm. Oh, yen? We don't have pound notes?"
"Ah, I don't …" Otoko's father peered closer at his wallet. "Oh, dear. My old eyes have deceived me."
"…" Otoko curled up again and began to take a heavy interest in her sake.
Shirou understood this feeling. This was the consequence of a war.
The Copenhagen survived the Second Pacific Incident for two reasons. One, they had no affiliation with any of the Japanese military or the resistance. Two, a Britannian sergeant pitied the elder Hotaruzuka after his men went on a drunken rampage and smashed a bottle over Mr. Hotaruzuka's head. The shards in his right eye had to be removed with an operation that nearly left the Copenhagen bankrupt. So, the sergeant drummed up a steady flow of well-off soldiers who paid well for a quiet moment in a well-serviced bar.
But …
It wasn't the case that the Copenhagen was thriving. After the incident, the Copenhagen became a well-stocked bar with a reputation for servicing Britannians in a mostly Eleven residential zone. The Britannians vanished because Fuyuki was no longer a combat zone, and the Japanese were generally loath to enter a traitorous establishment. The Hotaruzukas were holding onto the hope that the transition efforts to integrate Britannians into Fuyuki's Western residentials would drum up business. Until then, business was dwindling.
Which is why I've been here for five years. Neko-san's father was the only person who would hire a kid to work for him. He was the only one in any position to hire me.
"It's fine, Hotaruzuka-san. I didn't do that much today."
"Oh, no. I couldn't. Here, at least take this." He handed Shirou three 10000-yen bills.
Shirou accepted them with a forlorn thought. This would have originally been a week's pay, but with the pound becoming the standard, the yen has been devaluated. This is … about a day's pay. "I'll only accept this if you let me lock up. It's the least I can do."
"Hah! You're a good kid, Emiya. Maybe even a good man, too. I should marry you off to Otoko!" He chortled, ignoring Shirou's sudden flush.
"Don't say something ridiculous! There's a lot of guys more suited for Neko-san."
"Maybe so, maybe so. I'll tell you this, though. You have a future, a damn fine one ahead. You'd be a catch for any nice girl here. What do you think, Otoko?"
She rolled out from the heater, turning her head. "He'd be a good fit for Taiga. Ryuudou gets beat up too often by Raiga's boys."
The old master's laughter faded as he went downstairs, leaving Shirou back in charge of the bar and his daughter still curled up. The glasses clinked, but before Shirou could finish-
"Huh. You and Taiga make a good pair. You're an idiot as well. Oh well." Otoko opened the grille and splashed some sake inside, watching the flames dance. "You never turn down anyone asking for help, do you? You took care of the store when dad and I got sick, too."
"Hm? I don't think that's true. I don't take impossible jobs. I only accept things I can do."
"… Hm. But you were sick too back then. Eh, I don't really care." She slugged another shot. "But what I'm saying is, you're a good person and a bit stupid, so I'm a bit worried. Tell Fujimura to come visit me from time to time."
He raised his eyebrow. The glasses were stacked up, and he was pretty much done with cleaning the bar. "Just tell her that?"
"Right. See ya, don't push yourself too hard." Otoko got up, surprisingly steady for the amount she drank.
Well, she's the daughter of a barkeeper. She should be able to hold her alcohol. Except …
She said something that gave cause for Shirou to question her sobriety for a moment. "… And about what Oto-san said. Your chances are pretty good. I wouldn't mind, you know. Just … keep it in mind."
He had to think about it for a little while. Shirou let out a roll of air. "Is it that bad now?"
"It's getting worse. The Britannians are doing checks even on the Honoraries. It's getting impossible for people like you or me to keep a steady job that isn't manual labor. I guess they're still punishing us. Organically-grown businesses from the Japanese are the best shot, in the long run. But no proud man has patience for that. Only kids do, like you."
He had no answer to that. It made sense. "I'll keep it mind, then. I hope you'll find someone, Neko-san."
"Same here."
The barkeeper's daughter left, leaving Shirou Emiya to the glasses and the chairs.
Days like these were comforting. Shirou found himself idly staring outside. He still had thirty minutes before the bar closed, and he had already finished his duties. The clock ticked onwards to a quarter before ten, and just as he was locking the liquor away-
"Yo, barkeep! A tall one for me and my buddy, will ya?"
A scruffy-looking character had entered. Spiky and red-haired, with a narrow face and eyes, he looked the part of a scoundrel. His goatee didn't help, either. His companion was bespectacled and square-jawed, a kinder demeanor under his blued hair. Both wore red headbands that were remarkably proud compared to the rest of their clothes, cheap jackets and worn shirts and pants.
Ever the gracious host, Shirou rolled over two glasses. "What would you like?"
"Shochu for me, man! Minami, whaddaya want?"
The bespectacled one looked at the locked rack. "I'm sorry, but my friend insisted. I hope we're not bothering you much."
"It's fine. I was just closing up, but …" Shirou pulled out a sake and a shochu from under the counter. "Neko-san has a few underneath."
Minami smiled. He pulled out a few yen and pound notes and placed them on the table. "Thank you. We've been looking pretty hard for a bar that'd serve us."
"Really? Most stay open late. We close early on weekdays. Neat, hot, or on the rocks?"
"Hot, for both of-"
The red-haired one peered at the drinks. "Wow, you actually have some decent stuff! What's the name of this place, man?"
Shirou pulled two kettles out and set them up on the heaters, pouring the bottles separately. "The Copenhagen. 'We bring a taste of EU's nightlife capital to Japan.' That's our motto."
"Chousugoi! You hear that, Minami? That totally fits with our deal!" Somehow, it already seemed like the red-haired man was drunk, as he wrapped his arm around the wide frame of his friend. "And he's a redhead, just like me! It's fate, I tell you. Fate."
"Yes, it does, and yes, he does." Minami sighed apologetically. "I'm sorry, we just came from a business deal. I'm Yoshitaka Minami, and my friend is Shinchirou Tamaki. He just wanted a drink before we headed back to our apartment."
Shirou nodded. "I'm Emiya Shirou. Congratulations, then. So you're dealing with a company in Copenhagen?"
"Not really. It's a deal with an EU company to drum up some business for the unemployed Japanese here. We've been unable to find a job for a while, and getting something like this is a miracle."
"Yeah, that's pretty good news. Still, I thought the Britannian Viceroy just made a program to employ Elevens. Why go to the Europeans?"
Minami frowned, his serious demeanor losing some of its previous joviality. "The jobs he offers to us Japanese are just for manual labor or bookkeeping. We deserve better. The Europeans appreciate our talents, even if the Britannians don't."
The hinted vehemence was surprising for Shirou, but he chastised himself. What else did I expect? Relations with any sort of EU-affiliated company would be preferable to Britannian relations for these men.
"I think I offended you. I'm sorry, I didn't consider my words carefully enough."
"No, it was my fault. I was just frustrated by how hard it was to get a job before this stroke of luck. We're here to celebrate, not to reminisce about the past and pour out our troubles onto the youth. Right, Tamaki?"
"Yeah, that's right! We'll pour our troubles into cups instead!" Tamaki pointed at the kettles, pushing his cup forward. "Hit me, Emiya-kun!"
The strong, warm liquids hit the brim, and the two friends raised their cups.
"Kampai."
Even before Minami finished his first sip of sake, Tamaki had slugged all of his shochu.
"Good stuff, man! You work here often?"
Shirou refilled the outstretched cup. "Not as often as I like. I'm trying to finish my studies."
"That's smart. Kids your age should be studying a lot. People like us, we lost our chance. We have to make the most of what we got." He swung back his head and finished the second cup.
"Shinchirou-san, you two seem pretty intelligent."
"Hah! You got that right! Minami's a bit more book-y, but I've got the street smarts for the both of us!" Tamaki flexed his arm and rubbed his biceps. It wasn't all that impressive, but then Shirou noticed the lean and wiry build of Tamaki's frame. Tamaki looked to Minami. "Yo, you were going to go to university, right?"
"Mm." Minami rubbed the rim of his cup, a bit forlorn. "I got into Tokyo University a few years back. You know, I still have an acceptance there waiting."
"Yeah, shame it got blown to hell after Yamamoto's group protested there. You see that, Emiya?" He punched Minami's shoulder, causing Minami to smile. "That's why we need people like you. When a better time for us Japanese comes, you'll be ready to build things back up."
"And we're hoping that time comes soon." Minami drank the last of his sake. "So what are you studying, Emiya-kun?"
"I'm just in high school, so I don't have any majors like a college student would." Shirou smiled at Minami's surprise as Minami looked at his cup. Somehow, without Minami noticing, the sake had replenished itself. "I'd like to be a lawyer."
"You're in high school? I'm surprised, you're too good of a bartender for your age." Minami peered around Shirou, looking for the bottle. "A lawyer, huh? You don't seem like someone who reads a lot."
"You have me there. I'm more used to odd jobs like these." The bottle appeared, spinning in Shirou's hands before disappearing again behind the counter. "I guess manual labor and simple work fit me better."
"Yeah, you are a good bartender." Minami leaned forward. "But if you were older, we'd offer you a spot. You've got too much ahead of you right now. Take advantage of what you have, and go for law school."
"If they'd accept me." The bottle of shochu, almost empty, was replaced with another. "I'm curious about what this job is."
"Dude, it would be perfect for you! It's"- Tamaki found himself cut short by Minami.
"It's some investment work, getting an EU firm started up here in Japan. They needed Japanese assistance to figure out … the lay of the land. There's a bit of physical labor that needs to be done, but a lot of it is planning and logistics." Minami tapped his index finger to his spectacles. "It's work that requires a brain. Like I said, we could always use more people."
"I thought there would be a lot of Japanese who'd be jumping at the opportunity."
"Unfortunately not, one of our partners backed out." Minami sighed. "We could have used his help."
Tamaki drained his cup and brought it down with some force onto the table. "Damn right. He refused, stubborn old coot Rai-"
Tamaki was again cut off, but with an elbow this time.
"We're hoping he'll come around. Some people get nervous even around Europeans. I don't blame him, but you have to adapt these days." Minami still looked dissatisfied. He, too, drained his cup.
"Huh." Shirou nodded, noncommittal. "Glad to know you've got the job, at least. Good luck."
Suddenly, the redheaded man ruffled the redheaded boy's hair. "Thanks, man. We'd off you a spot if we could. We won't waste your time anymore with us old men. We'll wrap up."
Shirou nodded again, emptying the bottles into Minami and Tamaki's cups. The two terrorists raised them in a toast.
"Kampai."
The solitary clink echoed among the raised chairs and empty tables. Both men knocked their heads back and downed the rest of the alcohol.
"Right, let's go. Good night, Emiya-kun."
"Good night, Yoshitaka-san. Good night, Shinchirou-san."
The cups were flipped up and returned to Shirou. Minami walked out first, disappearing under the streetlights.
Tamaki, red-faced but steady, followed Minami. Before he left, he turned back to Shirou.
"I'll tell you something, kid. We figh- We work so you won't end up like us NEETs."
Somehow, Shirou Emiya had stared off into space for five minutes after that.
That could be me. That could be me and Issei. No matter what we were, if we came to be just seven years ago …
It's unfair. But there could be worse things.
There was a lot wrong with how Japan had turned out. Shirou did his research after a slew of arguments with Lelouch. He still didn't know how he felt about the Area system, but he did understand where Britannia's priorities laid. As a kingdom, Britannia could not put individual well-being first and foremost. She needed to stand on her own feet before doing so. He didn't like the fact that people had to suffer, but he agreed with Lelouch on one point: Britannia was helping Area Eleven rebuild, motivated by Area Eleven's contributions to Britannia.
He was a direct product of Britannian generosity, after all. Sakura and Issei, too- though their lot could be better.
But that's really all Shirou could agree with. The memories were too easily lost. Shirou rejected the idea of a kingdom built on so much forgotten pain. Someone had to remember, and Britannia chose not to. That much he could tell. Maybe- maybe reminding people of that death was too much to give, but Britannia didn't need to add more casualties to the list. And it wasn't even just negligence. Shirou had seen the results of the purges that Clovis ordered on a ghetto once- right on the border of Fuyuki.
But even without those sins, Shirou Emiya did not recognize an 'acceptable' limit to the victor writing the history. The necessity. At the very base of it all-
People have to come first. Minami and Tamaki are people, but they came last for Britannia.
He blinked. Lelouch must really be beating this stuff into me. And I'm just putting my morals into a foundation with the tools he gave me.
It did align well with his thoughts, though. He definitely wasn't someone able to change Britannia in any large fashion, but he knew that something had to change.
After all, Shirou Emiya only had one real talent. What he was good at, if anything else, was projecting structures in his mind's eye. Maybe before, he could call salvation good and leave it at that, or perhaps just say 'people shouldn't die, that's the way it is.' Now, he had a small scalpel of logic to assist the hammer of moral, irrefutable obstinacy Lelouch jokingly derided him for.
But that would have to wait for the next day. Illuminated by the warm streetlights, he closed the heavy oak door.
Something caught his eye.
A streak of white, caught by the streetlights.
There was a figure, walking in the distance. Shirou tried to focus in on it, but it was impossible to make out any features in the poorly-lit street.
He gazed outwards for a few more moments, to no avail. The figure had turned the corner.
Probably just someone on an evening walk.
That didn't sit too well with him. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a child.
"It's not like they would return, anyway …" He turned back to the door and turned the lock.
The clicking action turned his decision. He sighed in resignation, and began to run up the block, if only to determine who the figure was.
The streets grow dimmer and dimmer as I ascend the hill.
It's not a hard hill to climb, but the corner leads to an even steeper incline. Miyami is full of these, which makes a pedestrian effort something of a challenge.
I make the turn-
And the figure is up the further portion of the block, under a flickering light.
For a moment, I can't believe my eyes.
The person I saw really is just a child.
She's standing above me as if looking down at me.
"—"
Without realizing it, I hold my breath.
The silver-haired girl descends the hill without a sound.
As she passes …
"You'll die if you don't summon it soon, Onii-chan."
That's strange, and I find myself responding to the odd statement.
"I'll die?"
I step back, and I'm in front of her again, blocking her path.
Now, I can make out who she is.
Before me stands a small, white girl.
She's dressed in an elegant purple coat, with a matching hat. A white scarf is wrapped around her face, and all I can make out are her red eyes.
At least, I think they're red. That's really strange.
She looks cold. The shivering of her shoulders tells me that much.
But her reply is still steady. "That's right. So be careful, Onii-chan."
As strange as that is, a warning is a warning.
There isn't much I can say to that, except-
"I will, then. Thanks for the warning." I say this with some amount of actual gratitude. I'm more confused, than anything else. But if she's warning me to be careful, the least I can do is be grateful.
Even with the scarf, I can tell she's taken aback. Her eyes widen, and her little hands clench into tiny fists.
Her eyes, they really are red-
|||||Stop it|||||||||||
|||||||It hurts||||||||
Huh?
Something strange happened.
But I can't waste time on it-
Her shivering changes, and she passes me again, quickly.
"Hey, wait-"
It's a natural reflex, to follow something in front of you before it disappears-
I turn the corner, and there's nothing but the darkness of the street.
In both directions, the girl's nowhere to be seen-
Oh, she's already down the block.
"That's … strange."
Well, it's not that late that I should be that worried about her. There isn't much I can do anyway. I do want to follow her, but she left intentionally, and it would be more than a little weird to be tailing a little girl.
I should go back to the Copenhagen, it's almost time for me to meet Lelouch.
Huh, I think I did forget to lock the liquor cabinet.
It was locked, but Shirou found himself going through the bar once again, so it took Shirou an extra five minutes to redo the closing of the bar. He had to lock the door once more-
"Hey, finished?"
"Argh-!"
Shirou caught himself against the frame, glaring at the new arrival. Lelouch was mildly surprised at Shirou's response. Possibly an equal part amused.
"I didn't think my arrival warranted that reaction."
"It didn't. Sorry." The adrenaline rush faded, and Shirou swung over to the motorbike. "I'm a little on edge."
"Ah, I see. Why?"
Unintentionally, Shirou's mouth turned to make a slight grimace. "I'll explain when we're on the road. You could tell me why you're here."
"It was getting a little late, and I think I attracted too much attention. I decided to go here instead of waiting for you to pick me up."
"You could have called, you know. Babel Tower isn't that far from here."
"I knew you were busy." The Buell purred, and Lelouch had barely strapped on his helmet and put his distinctly weightier briefcase in his lap before Shirou had taken to the road.
It was a quarter of an hour before Lelouch could tell that Shirou was ready to talk. "So, do tell about being on edge."
"I think I met two terrorists today. Minami and Tamaki."
Lelouch blinked in surprise. "And?"
"They told me a bit of their story. They can't find work, and they couldn't get an education during the reconstruction. What they're working for is a future for Japanese kids- I guess, my future. They actually said that. They think it's possible for this generation of Japanese to grow into the Britannian society. But because they had no options, they're-"
And Shirou gritted his teeth, because this was pure speculation. "They're working with the yakuza, or trying to."
"So you think it's your civic duty to turn these men in?"
"That's what my gut tells me. They're desperate enough to kill, even if they didn't say so. I saw something I didn't like in their eyes."
"There's a 'but' in there, isn't there."
Under the helmet, Shirou felt the conflict move his words. "Minami told me he was going to go to Tokyo University. Tamaki didn't even have an education."
The night, interrupted periodically by the passing streetlights, counted the seconds. "You sympathize with them."
"What's the price of those lives, Lelouch? What Britannia gave- the Honorary system, the ghetto transitions- are they enough to make up for Minami and Tamaki's lost experiences and dreams?" Those words came out with an edge he didn't expect. Shirou was surprised.
Lelouch wasn't. "You think you could have become just like them."
"No- nothing that selfish. I mean, the thought had crossed my mind. It's more that- Alright, even if I was in their position, would I choose to fight?"
"Good question. Do you think what they're fighting for is worth dying for- or, as I'm sure you're more concerned with, killing for?"
"I-" Shirou stared out onto the dark, empty, passing road as he tried to compose his thoughts. "There are things worth fighting for, sure. But if I hold that everyone should be saved, then means that don't kill people would be preferable. Because Britannia is so strong, that sort of ideal is unreasonable without killing."
"So you recommend turning the other cheek?" Lelouch already knew Shirou's answer to that.
"No. That quote's out of context, too. That guy said that just with respect to two equals, and one hit by the other. That's it. There's a difference when the aggressor and the aggrieved have more motives than that. There's no doubt that those two were wronged, and they have no way to be given back their lost years. And they'll probably argue that Britannia's continued rule would make Japan worse off in time."
"But you know that Britannia has done some good for Japan."
"They've only seen the harm, though. It's hard to blame them for what they've gone through."
"Now see here, Shirou. Whose choice is it? They're not the ones deciding whether or not to surrender themselves."
"Even so- I don't want to condemn them, but I don't want others to be hurt. There has to be a way to save Minami and Tamaki from being shot as terrorists. We both know how vindictive Britannia is."
"Seems like the best way to handle this would be to do nothing. Besides, how could you tell what they were planning? Did they tell you their plans?"
"They were going to mention Raiga."
That was cause for worry, but Lelouch pressed further. "And so if they did? You're not part of OSI, or the military. It's up to them to protect Britannians, right?"
"Yeah, but I could still warn them."
Lelouch had to roll his eyes at this one. This is what I find so refreshingly irritating about Shirou Emiya. In his quest to save absolutely everyone, he's able to sit on the very middle of the fence of any conflict- or even avoid the conflicting parties' positions altogether.
At least I was able to introduce him to the concept that not everything is that strange duality of black and white.
"So if I say that I agree with your gut, that it is your civic duty to report these two to the authorities. What is your most immediate reply?"
"It's not my duty to get them killed or to allow others to be killed. It's my duty to save them."
"You're confusing the issue. You're simply giving responsibility to the authorities who have the power to protect lives, and that power involves killing the terrorists to protect."
"But that's just it. Power isn't about killing. It's about saving. It takes far more to save a life than to take one. 'I had no right to live, but I was saved'- that's when someone realizes how much they owe to their rescuer. And it takes that much more power to save both the victim and the criminal, than to eliminate the aggressor to save the aggrieved."
"Shirou Emiya, as I declared you to be before, you are insane. They don't have that power you speak of, or they choose not to."
It was as if a new weight was loaded upon Shirou's shoulders. "So I can't do anything. I don't have enough to say that they are terrorists, or that they're planning anything to hurt Britannians. And if even I had more, the authorities would put them before a firing squad."
"That's a reasonable conclusion, almost the same as one a normal, well-adjusted human being would make. Congratulations." The smirk on Lelouch's face could be heard through these words.
This sarcasm was hardly missed by Shirou, but he disregarded it. "Then why do I feel like I should have reported them?"
"Because you interpret quite a few issues via a protective, categorical moral imperative. As long as there's a conflict, you'll seek to become a champion of someone who needs saving."
"But here- I can't avoid my responsibility with these suspicions-"
"Ask yourself this: are you making the best decision given the consequence? A moral conundrum without appropriate weight of the risks- that's just a gross irresponsibility, with only the worst consequences possible."
Shirou couldn't help it. He took his attention off the road and turned to Lelouch. "But that's all you've- we've- done. We don't act on any conclusions we make."
After that, they both became silent. The last stretch of road passed.
Ashford Academy was fast approaching. Warm lights, open fields, and collegiate Gothic architecture. It was a beautiful, clear winter night, the remnants of the last snowfall dusting the premises with a white powder.
They drove further in, to the porch of the Student Government Clubhouse. The clubhouse was one of the few buildings left lit at this late hour, but it shone on its white columns from the chandelier. The extravagance within was the campus's pride and joy.
A glint of gold in Shirou's eyes caught the luminescence reflected. He had already removed his helmet and took a deep breath of the crisp air. "Thanks, Lelouch. I needed that."
Lelouch replied with a low chuckle. "Somehow, every one of our conversations ends up with both of us off-put. You've certainly shown that something's working in your head."
Shirou dismounted from the bike. "I'd hope so-"
But Shirou found himself interrupted by the approach of a slight girl, struggling forward in her wheelchair.
"Lelouch? Is that Shirou with you?"
Nunnally Lamperouge. Shirou felt a pang of pity, like he always did when he saw her.
She was Lelouch's younger, vibrantly kindhearted sister. And, in a cruel twist of fate, blind in both eyes, and crippled in both legs.
Lelouch never explicitly said anything, but Shirou knew some bastard had done it.
She never let that stop her from trying her best to live as if those didn't afflict her.
Willfully pulling at the railings on her chair, she was stuck on the cobbled path. It wobbled, but refused to budge. Then-
She managed to wheel over the gap, which suddenly threw her off balance.
Shirou ran forward, grasping the wheelchair's arms to steady it.
"Lelouch-? Is that you?" Her hands reached out to clasp the stable hands. They were rough, solid. "Oh! Shirou! You did go with Lelouch!"
Nunnally smiled warmly.
That was an irresistible force, compelling Shirou to smile as well. "I drove him here, that's all. He's able to take care of himself."
"You brought him home, though. Thank you." Her hands trembled on Shirou's, a shiver from the cold travelling through her body. "Ooh, it's cold."
The heavy-plated motorbike jacket, warm from wear, was draped gently over Nunnally's shoulders. It covered her dress and lengthy brown hair, weighing down her thin frame comfortably. Shirou straightened his collars and cuffs of his bartender's uniform a tad bashfully.
Lelouch was looking at him smugly. "You're quite the gentleman." Shirou pointedly ignored him. Again.
"Don't tease him. This is really warm. Thank you, Shirou." Nunnally activated the automated controls, and drove to her brother. "Lelouch, you're late. I was worried."
"I'm sorry, Nunnally. I got you a gift." Her big brother slipped something into her hands. "Tell me if this makes up for it."
Shirou let the distance grow a little. He knew how much Nunnally valued her time with Lelouch. He could get his jacket in the morning-
"Shirou, you're not leaving yet. We're going to have hot chocolate."
Shirou stopped. "I should go to bed, it's almost a quarter to twelve."
"You're saying you're going to disappoint Nunnally and I?" Lelouch posed an impossible question.
As if on cue, Nunnally spun her chair around and clasped her hands together, almost beseechingly. "We'd love for you to join us, Shirou."
"… That's unfair." But he relented.
Still, as Lelouch and Nunnally talked, he let them have their space.
The hall of the clubhouse was extravagant indeed, but it was the upper floor that was far more welcoming for Shirou. This was where the Lamperouges lived.
Soon, the spicy, rich scent of chocolate and cinnamon filled the room. Lelouch was preparing the drinks for his guest and Nunnally, breaking tablets of Area Six fine chocolate and mixing this with cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar into hot cream.
Nunnally seemed lively. "So, Shirou, did you come back from work?"
"Yeah, I just did. It was a busy day. How was school?"
"Oh, I had fun today. We just finished 'The Canon of St. Darwin', and we've just started 'Darwinian Selection: A Human Extension'. It's so fascinating to see how Mr. Spencer applied his observations on natural life to a philosophy on human life."
"The Canon? That's 'On the Origin of Species', isn't it?"
"Yes, that's the first we had to cover. Then we read on Spencer's 'survival of the fittest.' That was-" Nunnally looked a little uncomfortable. "That was a little confusing."
Shirou could sympathize, but he was also somewhat bothered. "Don't worry too much about it. Lelouch and I don't exactly agree with Spencer's interpretation of the Malthusian Catastrophe." He grinned. "Whatever it means. It's just a theory, that's all."
"Heehee. You're right, Shirou." The steps were heard first by Nunnally, and she directed her head to the doorway. "Oh, hello, Sayoko!"
Sayoko, the maid of House Ashford, bowed to greet Shirou. "My apologies, Mr. Emiya. I didn't expect Nunnally to leave so quickly, but she was excited to see you and Lelouch enter into the Academy."
"It's fine, Shinozaki-san. I'm glad to see you again." Shirou bowed his head to return the greeting. He enjoyed being in the company of the Lamperouges and their maid. He had actually become close friends with Sayoko, due to the similar nature of their jobs.
Lelouch entered, carrying the cups of hot chocolate. Shirou rose to assist. "Here, let me get that-"
Lelouch just handed him a cup. "You're our guest, in our home. You just sit down, I'll take care of it."
A frown crossed Shirou's face, but he sat back down. "I see. I'll remember this when you visit."
"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to practice your hospitality with the Student Council."
Shirou sipped at the hot drink. Sure enough, it was richly flavored and sweet. Hold on, the Student Council? "They're going to Fuyuki?"
"We're planning an outing this weekend. Or maybe next weekend. I think Milly's interested in visiting your hometown, Shirou."
Ah. Well, after knowing me for four years, I'm surprised she hasn't proposed the idea sooner. "There are a lot of new attractions, especially with all the focus the Britannian construction companies are giving Shinto. It's been a bit dangerous with all the new development, though …"
"It should be fine. We're not going to go to the edge of the area. The ride might be a bit long, but I think it would be useful for Rivalz and Nina to see what a Japanese settlement could become."
"What about me, big brother?" Nunnally tugged on Lelouch's sleeve, a hopeful smile on her countenance. "I'd like to visit Shirou's home, too!"
That caused Lelouch to hesitate. "We won't be going to Shirou's home, Nunnally. It's just a day trip, and it'll be in the Britannian sector. Are you sure you want to go? I don't want you too tired."
"I'll be fine!" Nunnally became unusually persistent. "If Sayoko wants to, she could take me. Would that be alright, Shirou?"
"Hm-" He glanced at Lelouch, then Sayoko. "I think it would be fine. Fuyuki's been changing a lot, but there's still some rough spots. Having Shinozaki-san come would be good."
They both understood. Lelouch sighed, conceding the point. "If you're willing, Sayoko-"
"I'd like to see Fuyuki as well, Lelouch." She caught Nunnally yawning. "And Miss Nunnally should get her rest in order to be able to go."
"I- I- I will." Nunnally, stuttering, was able to get her reply out before her yawn ended. "Goodnight, Shirou. Goodnight, Lelouch." Sayoko assisted her to her bedroom, and closed the door.
Lelouch rose. "I'll see you off, Shirou. Thanks for coming."
"I enjoyed this a lot. Thank you for having me over. The chocolate was pretty good."
"I hope it was. Nunnally enjoyed talking with you. We should do this more often."
"Yeah." Shirou took his coat and opened the door. "It's past twelve. Don't forget, we have to wake up early for the meeting."
Lelouch groaned. "I forgot about that. I'll try to stay awake for that, then."
"Not like Milly would let you sleep through it. Good night."
"Good night."
The door closed, and Shirou walked down the steps. He could leave the bike under its tarp, it wasn't that long of a walk back to the dorms. Rivalz would be able to pick it up at the meeting tomorrow, anyway.
The frost crunched under his boots, and Shirou stuck his hands inside the heavy jacket's pockets. The breaths of midnight air he exhaled were clouds of fog in the chill. It was a night like this that struck a solemn melancholy within Shirou Emiya.
He hadn't forgotten what had happened today, and, more importantly, he couldn't figure out what he could do about it.
I knew this would affect me somehow. But- It always seemed like I had time, and it felt too distant. To affect Fuji-Nee, and to meet two people involved in something like this in the same day-
It was disheartening.
That's what it was.
I couldn't forget how helpless I was.
At the fire.
Nunnally's just as helpless- no, more so.
Shirou stopped moving.
He simply stared out upon the frozen field, watching the night cover the world.
The armory had beckoned. Shirou didn't remember opening the door, but he felt that he had spent the entire night just walking around the academy.
Strangely, it only took thirty minutes. His steps were random, but he found himself at the storage building of the academy. So, it was only a quarter to one. He debated practicing- it was some time since he had traced in earnest. He had that early meeting, so he couldn't stay up too late.
He could fit in the training.
"One-seventy-three, one-seventy-four, one-seventy-five …"
Pushups. The burn started to kick in Shirou's chest. He tried his best to dismiss it. His mind was more focused on the circuits he was training.
For Shirou Emiya, there was a distinct purpose to the exercise. The idea of 'A magus cannot neglect to train his body,' was firmly impressed on him. Even a simple pushup could be training for the Magic Circuit, if he put on mental shackles instead of metal weights.
He comprehended the flow of the Magic Circuit, the friction in his bones, the distortion in his thinking during fatigue, all while he trained.
This was a ritual born of five years past. Shirou Emiya never ceased in its practice.
He said something nonsensical.
"-Trace, on."
It was just one letter away from trance. Oddly fitting, that was. Most of the ignorant had that impression of spellcasting.
Well, in this case, since I don't have a Magic Crest or knowledge of magic, the spell is just me changing myself.
The human body doesn't normally have paths to allow the passage of magical energy. Circuits which facilitated this were more of an advantaged aspect of the soul than anything else, available to the lucky and privileged few.
Fair or unfair, Shirou Emiya was one of the blessed minority. That much he knew.
So it's my obligation, no matter what, to succeed in becoming a magus, to use what Kiritsugu taught me, and to continue to go further.
… Though I don't have much.
He shook his head, trying to clear out the persistent doubt in his mind. Any lapse in concentration would prolong the night into a painful, muddy slog.
Still, that alone was better than death from a burning steel rod.
It was difficult, as it was for the past three years. Finding the switch was difficult. Turning it on was difficult. Bearing the heat in his body was difficult. Everything hurt when he started and when he finished.
That was the point of the exercise, though.
'Shirou Emiya has no innate talent. Shirou Emiya has no power to save anyone, no miracle to fulfill his ideal.' He recognized this completely.
So any skill he possessed had to be earned by his blood and sweat. And this one was the most important, because it was one his father left to him.
He shuddered. "One-ninety, one-ninety-one, one ninety-two …"
He could hear it with each repetition. The echo of a bell, the trace of each hard-fought success, was coming into his grasp.
And it was becoming easier, too. If he could survive both the fire in his body and the fire in his mind, he would be better prepared for the fire that created Shirou Emiya.
Thinking about that, though …
He drew breath sharply, his mind wavering.
His form was faltering, and he struggled to lower his body to the ground and raise it up again.
But he steeled himself, forcing his mind and body to be stronger than the force bending him.
"One-ninety-nine, two-hundred- Gah-!"
He could hear it, a bell tolling.
The switch was a like burning valve, ready to release the energy flowing through his circuits. Or the ignition to an engine, or the hammer cocked back to strike a bullet's primer.
These were the images that were impressed upon Shirou since his first success years ago, as he stood still in silent pain, completely lost in his youth and his trust in his father- when he felt it, a subtle shift in his understanding and his mind, a little toggle that opened when he wished to perform a miracle.
So, I can do it-
A hammer struck and the inside of his body completely changed.
The taste of the failures of his false circuits ran through his mouth for a moment.
But he felt the engine rumble and the fire race through him. His body was burning, and that reassured him.
That was an amazing thing. That was a truly amazing thing. Because-
He was full of energy beyond that of a normal human. And as small as a miracle as it was going to be, the fact remained that Shirou Emiya was performing a miracle- even if he refused to recognize it.
He couldn't feel the numbness in his muscles, or the mental exhaustion of the day. All he felt was the energy coursing through his veins.
Now prepared, Shirou began the incantation. "—Basic structure, analyze."
After those steps, it was a process of naturally flowing power. Because-
I'm not a magus. I'm just a user of magecraft. I can create magical energy from within my body and channel it into objects.
Yes, truly, Shirou Emiya was just a conduit for this power. So there was only one magic possible for him, for such a machination-minded magus.
"Composition, analyze."
Strengthening objects. By comprehending an object's structure and channeling prana from the magus's body, strengthening enhances an object's properties.
It was a spell suited for Shirou Emiya.
It was the only magecraft Shirou Emiya could understand.
"Basic structure, alter."
The third line was the trigger for Shirou to channel magical energy into this pipe and reinforce its durability, the balance of strength and ductility.
He comprehended this much: that he had to concentrate on modifying the resilience, decreasing the relative shock enforced on each molecule, encouraging the grain formation towards the center, increasing the ability to absorb mechanical energy until failure. All this is to achieve a goal of resisting a large impact- as seen in his mind's eye.
Basically, channeling magical energy into something other than the original caster's being is like pouring poison into that object.
Shirou Emiya was pouring his blood- his essence- into the pipe. Putting something from a human into something material doesn't make it stronger. Pumping different blood only accelerates its breakdown, it definitely wouldn't strengthen it.
To prevent that, and to turn the poison into a tonic, a magus who wants to pour his blood into an object must completely understand the structure of the target, and channel the magical energy into small open spaces.
A doctor does not operate upon a human without comprehending the human's structure, and an engineer does not repair a construct without understanding the construct's properties. A magus does not enact thaumaturgy without realizing the mystery he is about to unveil.
"Composition, reinforce."
The fourth line was the final one. From the preparation of a circuit to the understanding of the object, this step would be the defining moment for his efforts. But even this simple piece of magecraft is difficult for him, as difficult as aiming down the iron sights of a rifle and hitting a target thousands of meters away.
"… Huh."
In the next moment, the heat moved fluidly from his mind into the grains.
He tried his best efforts to direct the strengthening into the metal tube under his palms. Something sparked in his mind, the lines of his circuit flickering.
In a moment, he knew he had failed, the metal's grains splitting under the stress of his prana being forced into it-
Heh. Even that would be an accomplishment.
But I'm not going to fail.
He wrested back control of the strengthening.
Somehow, the image of the world burning vanished. Replacing it was-
The little boy, surrounded by fire, without a hope of salvation in the dead field. That lasted just for a moment, and it was easy to reject. Shirou Emiya had already denied himself for seven years after that fire.
Next came the faceless ones, those who were irrevocably lost in the fire. They gave Shirou motivation, they gave him purpose. Lelouch called what he saw from Shirou a crutch, but Shirou knew better, because he did not deserve to live when they had died. They were the ones he could fight for.
That's what he thought, anyway.
But his mind slipped, to-
Himself, actually. Back to when he was burning.
He focused in on this without cause. It just came to his mind, that sort of suffering, because he was suffering right now.
That turned something violently in the process. The steel rod in his back straightened, and the grains- they shifted back, realigning with the structure of the metal tube, but- differently.
The red fog lifted from his eyes, and Shirou was able to let go of the cylinder, its imprints drawing crimson on his fingers where he had gripped too tightly.
The bar- it's intact?
He had succeeded? By drawing on the image of a single person, rather than saving hundreds?
Shirou rose, bringing up the strengthened tube.
He tested it on the steel vice, swinging down.
The impact felt unnaturally dampened, and there was a sizable dent in the vice's solid clamp. He swung again-
The tube shattered.
It can't be helped.
Shirou ground his teeth. His frustration wasn't aimed at the failure, but at the almost-success. He couldn't deny it, he had almost succeeded only by recognizing one life worth saving.
He lifted the pieces of the old, broken rifle barrel and tucked it in the back of the shed. An old knickknack- a shattered knight's helm, a sallet- rolled forward, a reminder of his previous attempt a month ago.
Without purpose, he picked it up and stared into its face. Maybe- that's what I have to become, a champion of the few. I'm not moved enough by the world, so I have to rely on people I am moved by.
No, that can't be right.
That's pathetic- I'm so self-centered that I choose to someone I sympathize with so I can excuse myself from that fire.
And the tools Kiritsugu gave me- I can't even maintain them.
I should just give up.
The idea was repugnant, but there wasn't much he could do about it, so he just let it go.
If I'm beginning to sound like Lelouch, I really should get some sleep.
He closed the door of the Ashford Armory and left for the showers.
It didn't take long for him to return to his room, in the frigid night.
The lights clicked off, and he felt the fatigue pull his muscles down into the cot. His mind faded, just a little.
It was just an ordinary day.
AN: Fate/stay night belongs to Type-Moon and Nasu. Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. I do not own either franchises, nor am I affiliated in any way with either. This work is in accordance with Title 17, Chapter 1, Section 107 of the United States Code (as per the Copyright Act of 1976), in that it does not infringe upon any copyrights on licensed works, and falls under fair use as per mentioned section. No profit is made from this work.
On top you will see a bar for display settings. If you click the button with three horizontal bars, you will see options for the width of the story (Full, 3/4, and 1/2). I wrote this fanfic with the intent for it to be read in the 1/2 setting, but you can use the others as to your preference. I do feel that 1/2 is easier on the eyes.
Welcome to Fate/covenant apotheosis. Welcome to the ascension.
I'll do my best to keep ANs short here. Reviews are the best way to give feedback and constructive criticism (Fanfic . net's system leads to more traffic for more reviews, so ... more traffic, please?), but PMs work fine for that as well. However, for audience-wide information sharing, ANs work fairly well, but they can clog up the chapter. If you have some advice, do share it. I'd appreciate any help offered.
You'll notice two different types of chapter headings. Primary chapters are titled with "Day X" or a particular event (i.e. the Innocent Winter Encounters). Those have direct relevance to the plot. OPTIONAL chapters are titled with "Interlude". They are unnecessary to read to understand the plot, but add significant depth to the storyline. The entire story is in chronological order, but some of the interludes can be tiresome to read. Especially Trespasser Inquiry and Transgressor Initiation, or so I've heard. Don't feel too obligated to read the interludes, but if you like the general plot and flow, I beseech you to read them.
Updates will be monthly or bimonthly. I'm in the workforce now, so my free time varies a bit. I'll do my best to be consistent, I promise. Life is just plain hard, though. But if the journey is worth taking, then I'll take it. I just hope you guys can join me for the ride.
If you liked this, or Fate/Nightmare Apatheia, check out Fate/Zero Eos by Mr. Sparkles (www .fanfiction. com s/7996190/1/Fate-Zero-Eos). He's my co-author, and FZE is the canonical prequel to this fic (and FNA). I highly recommend it on just the merits of the writing alone, so if you're interested, drop by and go on a 100k+ word spree through a brilliant piece of worldcrafting!
As always, I'll appreciate it a ton if you'd be so kind to put a review below. I'm always game to improve, but I can only do so with your help. If you have a question, put it in the review and I'll do my best to reply via PM by the end of the week. And also, as always, thank you. This wouldn't be possible without your support.
HeavyValor