I woke up at five, where it was still dark, and I helped Mother dress and sit down in her wheelchair. She had lost weight, gone from being slender to gaunt, delicate to frail. I could just about carry her now. I brushed her hair with comb and talked to her. Sometimes she would even talk back, though I've always wondered if that was a good thing for either of us. Today was one of those days.

"Rin, do you know where your father is?"

"I think he's in the workshop, Mother."

"Again?" Mother had a puzzled, uncertain look on her face. It was too much like a child and I thought I was supposed to be the child. She smiled, but it had that dreaminess, that lack of lucidity, a wistfulness that bespoke an empty mind. "It should be the husband who should be doing this, don't you think so Rin?"

"I think so too Mother. You should really give him a scolding when you see him."

"Oh you know me Rin. I couldn't. Besides, he has to prepare for the Holy Grail War and there's so much to do. I'll manage." Mother smiled, took my hand in her own and patted it softly. Her grip was weak and if it could be believed, her voice was weaker. "You're getting taller, Rin," she croaked. "Soon I'll be the smallest one in the family."

I didn't answer. I set aside the comb and helped her out of her bedroom and down the stairs. Each step was a battle, but I've fought this war every day and I've won it every time, just as I would if a new Holy Grail War ever came. We made it to the bottom without fail and in the time it would have taken me to brush my teeth. It's worse when I have to get her back up the stairs.

"Rin," Mother asked, her voice suddenly sharp, almost hysterical. "How did this happen to me?"

"You had an accident. But not to worry. You'll be able to walk again soon."

"The doctor said that?"

"Yes he did," I lied.

"I see." Mother's voice trailed off, soft once more.

I stared at the back of her head as I wheeled her down the hallway. I remembered how the doctor broke the news with the deliberate grimness of undertakers who've been given the unpleasant task of cleaning up the victim of a car crash. How he frowned. How he sighed. How he yanked off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if there was something wet in them. And then there was Kirei. Patting my shoulder comfortingly as his eyes gleamed, muttering that she was lucky to be alive. What a load of-

"Rin?" Mother asked as I took her to the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Where's Sakura?"

I bit my lip. Reflex. There was once a time where I would bite it till it bled, hoping I wouldn't cry, or worse, laugh when she asked that question again. "She's probably still sleeping," I drawled, halting her at the dining table where her breakfast waited. "She pulled an all-nighter yesterday. I'll go wake her up later. We still have time before school starts."

"Thank you Rin." Mother sniffed and looked down at what I prepared for her. "Soup again?"

"Yes Mother." I took a seat near her. "Don't worry. I'll try to get something else for you next time." Truthfully, soup was one of the few things I dare give her. Bland, viscous, colorless soup. Sometimes porridge, or the stuff you would usually feed from a jar to a baby: it had to be soft and easy to get down. Occasionally I'd experiment, and I considered myself a fair hand at cooking now. Someone had to do it, and I had no desire to live off on takeaway for the rest of my life.

"It's alright, dear," Mother answered, reaching for the ladle in the bowl. Her hand shook, and I got it for her, pulling the bowl closer to her and lifting a spoonful out. "Thank you."

I smiled, for her sake and mine. I lowered the ladle beneath her mouth and she slowly swallowed the broth. I decided that these moments were some of the better ones we had between us. I could almost pretend that we were still living a happy life. In a few minutes Sakura would come join us, and then Father would come down, ruffle my hair, kiss Mother on the cheek and everything will be the same again.

It was when I was taking the empty bowl to the kitchen that Mother spoke of my sister again, halting me in my tracks as her voice gained that sudden sharp edge of hysteria once more.

"I had no choice Rin. You were always the better daughter. It had to be you or her. I made the choice for all of us. For the family. I had no choice. I had no choice. I had no choice. I had no choice. Rin. Rin. Rin."

She continued to ramble like a broken record. I dumped the bowl and ladle into the sink and twisted the tap till the running water was loud enough to drown her voice out.