Shirou walked his bike to the school gate, spotting a familiar person standing near the entrance. His face broke out into a small smile. "Yo, Issei. Tired of Student Council work?"
"Emiya?" The young student council president Issei Ryuudou nodded to him once he turned around. "You aren't wrong, but why are you in such a hurry today?"
"I've got dinner duty," said Shirou cheerfully.
"So that's why," Issei mused, waving Shirou through the gate casually and catching sight of someone coming down the street. "Well, it looks like someone has come to greet you."
"Meet me?"
Issei waved as he walked back to the school. "See you, Emiya."
"Yeah, see you," Shirou called back. Who could he have been talking about—
"Onii-chan!"
–other than my precious little sister? Shirou smiled. "Oh, what a coincidence," he said as he turned around. "On your way back then, Illya?"
The albino elementary schooler ran up to Shirou's side, practically bouncing with boundless energy. "Yeah! Let's go back home together." She sported a wide grin.
"Sure, but what about the bike?" Shirou asked, patting the one and only seat.
"I'm confident in my running!" Illya pumped a fist up in the air for emphasis. "Osu!"
"Oho?" Shirou smirked. "Well then…"
He hopped onto his bike and slammed his feet against the pedals, cycling for all he was worth. "Let's make it a race home!" He called backwards.
"Ah! Wait, onii-chan!"
I'll slow down a bit after— "WOAH YOU'RE FAST!" Shirou exclaimed, nearly falling off the bike as Illya somehow closed the gap between them in a matter of seconds.
"If it's a hundred-meter dash than it doesn't matter if you're a boy!" Illya huffed with herculean effort as she matched Shirou's pace. "You're the…one who'll lose!"
"Okay, okay, I'll slow down," Shirou laughed, hitting the brakes, and slowing his pedalling to a pace where Illya could comfortably walk at.
"Ah, I'm so tired onii-chan," Illya pouted, still breathing somewhat heavily. "Let me a ride on the bike too."
"I don't have enough seats though?"
"Then gimme!"
"You're so unfair!"
Their banter flowed naturally between him and Illya for the rest of their trip home.
Indeed, it was almost enough to make him forget that only a week and a half ago the city's ambient Od had surged to astonishingly high levels and was still increasing.
Kiritsugu, Irisviel, and Aunt Maya were caught up in a civil war somewhere in Europe. They said they would be stuck there for another month or so, which meant that Shirou was on his own for now.
It was almost enough for him to consider going to the current Second Owner of Fuyuki City, Tohsaka Rin, for her help in investigating the matter. Even though he considered her a friend, he would just had to hope she would not take the news that he was a magus, even if a third-rate one, too badly. But she had already been gone for a year, presumably to study at the Clocktower, and he had no idea when she would get back.
Luvia Edelfelt was the only other magus he trusted to that extent, but she had gone to the Clocktower to follow her rival, as usual.
So, he, a third-rate magus who could only Project hollow baseball bats and Reinforce objects at a fifty-percent success rate had to dodge the soon-to-be arriving Clocktower mages while they investigated as well do some snooping around himself on an unprecedented phenomenon that affected the entirety of Fuyuki City.
Shirou sighed, shelving those thoughts away as the Emiya house came into view. He would make do, somehow. He always had. Perhaps he should take time off of his part time job and cooking club to work on his magecraft more.
And there are those strange dreams I've been getting lately too, thought Shirou as he unlocked the front door. Is it normal to dream about swords? I haven't seen any recently...
"We're home!" Illya proclaimed as she bounded through the opened door as Shirou put away his bike in the entrance hall.
"Welcome back," Sella called out warmly, as she folded laundry in the living room. "By the way Illya, a package came in the mail..."
Shirou smiled as he took off his shoes and closed the door behind him.
He was overthinking things. He had made his choice five years ago, and his thoughts and feelings had not changed since.
Illya was bickering with Leysritt over her having started that magical girl anime before her. Sella sighed, concerned about Illya's future, and even more about her other sister's, but she kept folding laundry diligently anyways.
For this, he reaffirmed to himself. For them.
That Night:
The boy tried to swallow the lump in his throat, nervously looking at the clock and fidgeting in his seat. He had drained his cup of tea a few minutes ago but had not since mustered up the courage to fill it again.
It was an hour past midnight and Kiritsugu was late.
Any twelve-year old's imagination could run wild at their parent being late when it was around the time to come back home at night. A car crash, a plane falling out of the sky and landing on dad, being struck by lightning-
Any normal twelve-year old's imagination could conceive of those as idle fantasies, scenarios to act out in their head while waiting for their father's inevitable arrival.
Shirou was not sure whether Kiritsugu would come back at all.
Because of what he had seen last Wednesday.
When the doorknob clicked open, Shirou just about jumped out of his seat. As his father's familiar quiet footsteps came closer to the kitchen, Shirou's heart started pounding.
"Iri, is that—" Shirou's father froze, staring at Shirou, who stared back in turn, shocked.
Blood matted the man's hair, stemmed by a small blood-soaked strip of cloth tied around his head. His black coat, usually so clean and ironed, was crusted with mud, and pocked with small holes. The suit he was wearing underneath was in no better condition.
Shirou leapt from his chair and ran to his father. "Dad?!" He asked frantically. "What happened to you?"
"Shirou, I…" Kiritsugu was at a loss for words for a moment before the calm temperament Shirou knew so well reasserted itself. "Do you remember where the first aid kit is? Fetch it for me please."
"Dad…"
Kiritsugu's voice was firm. "Now, Shirou."
Shirou ran and got the box out of a kitched cabinet for his adopted father, and by the time he had turned around, Kiritsugu had sat down at the kitchen table. Bringing the kit over to Kiritsugu, he hovered for a moment uncertainly before his father gave him a dry smile and opened the first aid kit himself.
So Shirou sat in silence, watching as Kiritsugu undid his coat and suit and began stitching himself up. His father worked methodically and with practiced movements.
How many times has he had to do this?
"I suppose you have questions," said Kiritsugu without pausing or meeting his eyes.
"Eh? Oh…yeah," said Shirou. "Um, dad, what…what are you doing?"
"Stitching my own wound closed." Kiritsugu stilled for a moment before continuing his treatment with a sigh. "Sorry. Blood loss is getting to me. It's just…" The man paused a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm not sure where to begin."
Shirou didn't know what to say. He wanted answers, but he wasn't sure he would like them. And he had so many questions.
"What were you doing last Wednesday?" Shirou finally asked quietly.
Kiritsugu blinked. "You mean you…right, I suppose you could have seen some of that." He fell silent in thought again, his hands still holding needle and thread.
The man met Shirou's eyes, pinning his gaze. Those eyes held a profound weight Shirou could only describe as tired.
"My son," said Kiritsugu softly. "If I tell you this, there is no going back to the life you have now. The world I work in is not kind. Because I knew this better than anyone, I have tried to keep it away from you and your sisters for as long as I could. I truly wished your future to be free of my sins and past. Shirou, you shouldn't—"
"Tell me, dad," Shirou's voice was firm.
"You don't understand—"
"No, I do." Shirou shook his head vigorously. "I understand that my dad is fighting for me and Illya and Leysritt and Sella and mom. He's not going to do it alone!"
He hoped Kiritsugu didn't notice the shaking fist he was hiding under the table.
"You'll wake your sisters if you yell that loud, Shirou."
The boy jumped and whirled around, biting back a scream as he saw his mother descending the stairs.
"Iri," said Kiritsugu, sounding relieved. He put the needle and thread down.
Irisviel sighed, padding over to Kiritsugu's side in her slippers and white dress, and holding his hands in hers, heedless of the dirt and caked blood on them. She smiled into his eyes lovingly, and he back at her before turning to address Shirou again.
"You're just a boy, Shirou," she said to her son softly. "The world Kiritsugu and I came from isn't a place for children."
"I don't care. I-I can't let you do this alone," Shirou pleaded, his voice cracking. He felt hot tears gather at the edges of his vision. "I love you mom, dad. You took me in when I had nowhere to go. Illya, Sella, and Leysritt are my family too. If I can protect them with something as worthless as my life, then I-!"
Irisviel had knelt and grabbed Shirou by the shoulders, cutting him off and staring into his eyes. Mother and son, their eyes gleamed with tears about to flow.
"Never say that again," Irisviel whispered to Shirou. "How could you even think—oh Shirou." She hugged her son.
"It's because you're our son we're worried about you," said Irisviel. "Now and always our baby boy."
Shirou tried to say the words to tell her she was wrong, that he was twelve and not a baby anymore. But he could not find them: to deny her would have been denying the warmth of her embrace.
"I didn't adopt you to fight for me."
Irisviel blinked and straightened up, turning to her husband in surprise and quickly wiping at her eyes. "Kiritsugu," she admonished.
Shirou fought down a shiver as he saw his father scowl at him. It was the same face Kiritsugu had been wearing when he saw his father fight off five men at once in that alleyway last Wednesday.
"You are not a child soldier, Shirou," said Kiritsugu. His tone softened as Irisviel glared at him. "You're a human being so treat yourself like one. If you die that's it for you, don't you get it? All you would leave behind for us...would be grief."
Shirou remembered Illya smiling up at him from her cradle. How Sella smiled at him when he finally made a dish of fried rice. How Leysritt affectionately noogied him when he fetched her a popsicle from the fridge.
He couldn't imagine them crying. His heart wrenched at the thought of it.
But still...
"I know," said Shirou resolutely. "This is my choice. I'm going to help you, one way or another, and help protect this family. Like a real hero of justice."
Kiritsugu sighed, looking at Irisviel, who met his troubled eyes with her own. For a long moment, the couple spoke in a wordless language few lovers were close enough to speak.
Irisviel drew up another chair and sat next to her husband, and wordlessly started treating his wounds.
"Okay," said Kiritsugu in a voice that suggested this situation was anything but. "I suppose I should start by saying that I'm a magic user."
Shirou stared. His father was the most no-nonsense person he had ever met. There was no way he would joke about this.
But there was a first time for everything. And the way that those five thugs had been beaten in an instant…
"Magic user? Not 'magician', like in Harry Potter?" Shirou asked slowly.
Kiritsugu barked a laugh humorlessly, wincing as Irisviel forcefully slapped antiseptic onto his arm. "I'm surprised you know about that book. But no, magician means something different to people like me. I'll keep this within ten minutes, and we'll continue if we need to."
"Ten minutes?" Shirou echoed.
"You have school tomorrow, dear," said Irisviel with a radiant smile. "Don't worry, mommy's going to make sure you get there on time."
"Ah," the boy said uncomfortably, desperately hoping Kiritsugu had not brought the motorcycle/terror machine with him.
"A magus can be called the occupation of a person who wants to reach the Root of all human knowledge. For power, to satisfy their curiosity, their reasons don't matter. A true magus walks the knife's edge between life and death at all times, and as such they are ruthless and devoid of morals in their pursuit of trying to reach the Root."
"Wait, so they're all bad guys?" Shirou asked. "And how's magic still a secret after all this time? And what's the Root?"
Kiritsugu held up three fingers. "Barring a few exceptions, yes they could all be called bad people in your eyes."
He put down his ring finger. "The Root is supposed to be the place where the entirety of all human knowledge ever is stored. Even getting close to it requires an immense amount of power. Though most magi just use it as an excuse to seek power for power's sake."
He folded his middle finger. "As for why the existence of magic has remained a secret, there's an organization called the Mage's Association that's responsible for this, not to mention their occasional collaboration with the Holy Church. They cover up incidents and enforce the law of secrecy mercilessly."
Kiritsugu's eyes narrowed as he stared intently into Shirou's eyes.
"Never let them learn that you're my son. Understand? Under no circumstances should anyone, especially a member of the Mage's Association learn that you're the child of the Magus Killer."
"Magus Killer?" Shirou repeated. Realization shot a shiver down his spine. "You mean you..."
Killed people?
Kiritsugu looked pained, and not just because of his wounds. "As I said before, the Moonlit World isn't kind. Especially to someone who grew up in it."
"But dad..."
"Shirou, you're not a child anymore," Irisviel said gently, reaching out and stroking his hair. "You know it isn't always as simple as that."
The boy looked down, on the verge of tears again. "Yeah, but…"
"I would be lying if I said I had no choice, Shirou." The boy looked up in shock. "I killed people by choice because I believed I was being a 'hero of justice'. I thought that if I sacrificed the lives of the few for the many, it would mean I was doing something right." Kiritsugu shook his head, standing up and looking down at his son. "I can't even remember how many people I've killed using that twisted rationale. I was a monster, Shirou."
"No," denied Shirou frantically. "You thought you were doing the right—"
"It doesn't matter what I thought," said Kiritsugu quietly. "What matters is that I have lived a life of killing men, women, and children, and it has saddled me with a dark reputation that will stay with me far past the day I die."
Shirou wished that what his father was saying was a lie. But he could not say for himself one way or another.
How could he possibly answer the level of hurt behind those eyes?
"Now that you know all this Shirou," continued Kiritsugu. "Are you still willing to walk this path?"
Irisviel smiled at him, and Shirou knew that neither of his parents would think any less of him should he say no. And he was tempted, so very tempted to just go to bed and sleep and wake up to a new day without bleeding fathers and anything about magic.
It was not a choice a normal twelve-year-old should have been presented with.
It was the only choice this twelve-year-old could have made.
"I have no regrets," said Shirou solemnly.
It was a long moment before Kiritsugu sighed. "...Aren't you supposed to say that after you've done something you're proud of?"
Shirou blinked, genuinely surprised. "Haven't I?"
Irisviel laughed softly into her hand as Kiritsugu frowned.
"Get some rest now, Shirou," his mother said with a small, tired smile. "You have to face a whole new world in the morning."
A/N:
And now, for something completely different.
This was the product of having read Prisma Illya recently and trying to break writer's block for LZO. I put off reading Kaleid for so long because I wrote it off as lolicon fanservice. Then I saw a few fights in the first season of the anime and went 'alright you have my attention that was pretty cool' and smashed through Zwei, and what's been translated of Drei.
I mean, it's still lolicon fanservice to the extent that I purged my browsing history several times, but towards the middle of Zwei when everyone's favorite Irishwoman showed up is when it really started to get good.
Fun fact, Google Translate tells me Nullpunkt is German for zero point, following the naming convention of the Kaleid series.