Chapter Three

The First Steps

Shirou didn't get a wink of sleep again during that night. The pain that he had felt so vividly that it was almost a memory held him in constant fear he would felt it again if he closed his eyes, so he didn't even try to sleep. He tossed and turned in his sleep, chewing on the nightmare he had. The significance of it, why he would have one now five days after the fire happened. What could it meant that they had been carving the words of numerous sins according to Zoroastrianism on him, and yet he could clearly see it had not been his body. He sweated heavily, the pajamas sticking to his skin. It felt almost like the bandages that had gone away just yesterday, and that familiar feeling only increased his feelings of being trapped and helpless.

Despite that, the hours ticked away surprisingly quickly. Before he even noticed, he was already seeing the first rays of light of the day drift through the window of his new room. He winced at the bright light, feeling tired, sore, almost like he ran a marathon. He deserved at least a few hours of sleep, but there really was not helping it. Grumbling, he got out of the bed and into the bathroom. He washed his hands, his face and his teeth.

Kiritsugu walked into the bathroom a few moments later, looking only half-awake. In those dark gray pajamas, which were clearly a little too big for him, he looked even more unreliable that he had seemed at the hospital. For an instant, his expression was empty. When he laid his eyes on him, though, his face light up. That smile looked like the one at that time, in the fire.

The first thing out of his mouth was a 'good morning'. Shirou replied with the same, putting some fake enthusiasm behind his words. The second thing was if he had sleep well.

With a smile, he said that he had a nightmare, but aside from that he had sleep well.


That day he didn't go to school, of course. He was not registered yet, to begin with. Instead of going, he stayed at home and helped his new father with unpacking. It was boring, monotone task, but he did it with enthusiast he didn't have any need of faking. He was gland of having something to do, for once. In the hospital, he wasn't able to do anything and he only indication of the passage of time he had were the nurses, coming with the food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so he had the perfect excuse to think about it. But now, out of the hospital, he could clearly see he was just as lost.

He should able something he was passionate about before, but those memories had burned away in that hell, too. Now, he really didn't have the desire to do much of anything. So even if it was boring, anything to do would be welcome, since it helped him to take his mind off bad things. Besides, he did it fast and well, and the satisfaction it brought was far for unwelcome.


The next day, he had to got school. Kiritsugu wasn't busy, so he brought him to school in his western car. The breakfast had been nice; plain rice, and a salad. As for his day, that he wasn't so sure about. He went inside without protest, to the classroom he had been assigned to. He had got in a few minutes before the bell would ring, signaling the students to come inside the classrooms and sit down for nearly the rest of the day, so he put his back against the wall in front of the door of his class and simply waited.

A few of the kids came to talk with him during those few minutes, curious because they had never seen him before. He answered their questions instead of only remaining silent, but he didn't make an effort to engage with them, so they soon got bored on the novelty and wandered off. He didn't care. This way was better for all of them.

When the bell rang, he was the first to get inside. Instead of taking a seat, he stood in front of the blackboard. The teacher came soon. When she prompted him, he wrote his name with clear, careful strokes as he gave a generic introduction. He knew how to write Shirou, obviously, and he had asked Kiritsugu how Emiya was written during the car ride. When he finished, he made a small bow. The students clapped like they were supposed to do, and he made his way to the seat he was assigned, next to a girl named Ami. She looked sort of cute. When he sat down, the girl introducing herself. He answered in kind. She didn' t say anything else to him from the rest of the day, and he didn't seek conversation from her, either. It would be pointless.

Kiritsugu was there when the bell rang for the last time of the day, and all the students packed the book and note of the last class and went outside, with his body held against the car. He was wearing the same clothes he had on when the fire happening. That black shirt, black pants, black shoes and a black cloak that could have looked cool, but his posture made him seem more shabby that anything else. They both got inside, and buckled their seat belts.

"So," the man said, with a bright smile as he started the engine. "How was your day?"

"It was good. The classes were not too hard, and my classmates weren't noisy."

"Did you make some friends? Or got your your eyes on a cute girl?" he almost seemed... hopeful. Yeah, that was the word. For a moment, Shirou considered lying, but soon realized that there was not point to that. Even if he did lie, such a flimsy lie would be discovered soon.

"No, I didn't make friends. And the girls... honestly, I didn't really look."

"Uh." he stanched the back of his with his left hand, sheepishly. "Any particular reason, Shirou-kun?"

"Not really, old man." he answered, thinking that the man must be thinking that he called him like that because he was still a bit of kid, despite everything that happened. But it wasn't like that. His father and mother were dead, and he could even remember them anymore, but that didn't meant that even the memory than their memory was there had to be erased. Calling Kiritsugu father, no matter how kind he was, seemed... wrong. At the same time, Kiritsugu was his father now. So he called him old man, because that was the best compromise he was able to make with himself. "Is just..."

"What?"

"Is just that... they aren't like me. They will never be. Even if I do get some friends, they won't understand me. What... What happened, back then. So what's the point?"

"...I see." Kiritsugu replied, after a pause of a few seconds. "I can see where are you coming from, Shirou-kun. Certainly, the perspectives of you and your classmates must be irreconcilable. Maybe. Nobody can really be sure. For all we know... anyway, I am getting sidetracked. What I wanted to say was that yeah, you are probably right, but I don't think it matters. Look, I'm not telling you to go make some friends. I just want you to be happy, and that's far for a requisite to it. But consider it, please. It could do you some good?"

"All right." Shirou lied through his teeth, and nodded. He would do so, but only to make the man happy. Despite of what he had said, it was clear he would more piece of mind if he got himself some friends, so he would.

The rest of the car ride was spend in placid silence, only occasionally broken by Kiritsugu's comments and Shirou's own rather dry answers.


While Shirou was wandering around the recess, a week after that conversation, he heard it. A snap, the sound of flesh against flesh, followed by a whimper of pain. Those sounds broke him out of his trance instantly. He looked around the corner, curious despite in himself, despite that he had a good idea of what was happening. This was a far out of corner of the playground, almost hidden. It could be said that it was the perfect spot for bullies. And when he looked, he saw that, indeed, he was right.

Four boys were surrounding a tiny, purple haired girl. They were laughing quietly, pulling and tugging the girl's hair, while she looked to the ground, piteously clutching her skirt.

"Sakura-chan really doesn't change." one of the boys drawled out, by far the biggest of the four. He should be a year older that the others, at the very least.

"Just like a doll." another acquiesced, without much heat behind his words.

She was merrily waiting for it to be over, occasionally flinching because of their insults. This was probably far for an uncommon occurrence for the poor girl. He didn't even know why he was surprised anymore; this was just how the world was. Hell was even beyond that fire, everywhere, slipping between the cracks of normality. And if somebody got cut with its sharp edges... well, more often that not, there wouldn't be nobody to wipe away the blood. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palms.

KILL THEM

That strange, foreign thought resounded in his head with the force of an explosion. He stumbled, and somehow managed to straighten himself.

KILL THEM BEFORE WE GET KILLED

His vision narrowed, and in an instant the ring those boys formed around the world was the only thing left in his view. His teeth gritted so hard he clearly heard one of his back teeth crack. He didn't care. He suddenly knew what he had to do, even though he didn't knew how he came to that answer. Kill them; he had to do it. That girl was himself. He didn't know what that meant, but he knew it was the truth. If he didn't stop them now, he was going to get killed.

He couldn't die.

He couldn't never die.

He took a step forward; the hard ground crouched beneath his feet. The four things, because that was all they were, noticed him and turned around, their insults dying in their lips. The girl didn't even react, much less look up. He keep on advancing stolidly, hated burning inside of him, flamed further by his survival instinct. His gaze was fixed on the large boy, who was...

he saw something them, something strange. Another room, far from here. A woman covered in bruises cowering in a corner, while a man spewed insults with bottle of beer in hand. Things like that woman were all the same, only work a damn for fucking. That she should have keep her mouth shut, if she didn't want to be given her 'medicine'. All the while while a kid watched on, in the kitchen, covering his hands with his mouths so he couldn't heard him crying, and trying to make him seem smaller, smaller that he was even when he looked like he was ten when he was actually twelve years old, something which had had only made his hatred at himself, at his drunkard of a father and at his stupid, useless mother...

The vision disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving no trace. It didn't matter; none of what he see mattered. He was hurting him, so he had to disappear.

"Hey, you are Emiya-kun, right?" The boy who he had seen just a second ago hurting her spoke a bit nervously, acting like it was nothing. "W-what's your problem? We aren't doing nothing wrong. She is always looking at us with that vacant stare of hers, not deigning to even answer... she deserves it. This..." he spat on the ground. "This doll. I can't let anybody treat me like I don't exist."

Shirou could see that the rest of the boys were strung a long by the boy, who was visibly a year or two older that them... and himself, too. But he didn't care. He had to do what he had to do, and that wasn't going to change. He lifted his clenched right hand, and buried it in the older boy's face. A crack; his vision turned red for an instant. The force of the impact had throw the boy on the ground, even though he was about twice his size. Also, his nose was broken. He could see the shape was wrong, and the blood flowing from the nostrils. He felt himself smile.

The others, seeing their thug of a leader on the ground, stood looking at the scene completely frozen by indecision and fear. Shirou descended on him, his teeth bared in a savage smile. Stranding him, he hit the older boy's unprotected head with his fists. There was a crack every time his attacks landed cleanly; he didn't care. He didn't care about the pain filled scream that followed from the older boy, either.

KILL HIM

"S-stop this, for..." he dared to plead with him at this point, while clumsily trying to protect his head, but another hit quickly cut him off. What followed was only an inarticulate scream of pure agony.

KILL HIM KILL THEM ALL

"Die, just fucking die, you damned pig!" Shirou roared out, in a voice that was obviously not his own. A voice of an older man, a voice from almost an eternity ago. "Animals like you don't deserve anything else! Don't ever get back up!"

The other three boys let out shrill screams, and ran for it. He didn't care. The one below was the one who had started this, so if he died here the biggest problem would be cut off. He could always peruse the rest later, and finish what he had started. But for now...

KILL THEM YOU HAVE TO KILL THEM ALL

he had to finish this. One last hit, at the boy let out a gasp. His head fell back on the ground. His eyes were closed. He didn't know if he was dead or not, but it did matter. The girl. Himself. That came first. He stood up, only vaguely aware that his knuckles hurt like hell. He looked at the girl, and found her looking at him, with a strange light in her eyes. Not apathy, nor disgust, but almost... wonder. Shirou took a step forward, and extended his hand towards her with a wide smile.

"It's all right, don't worry." he said to her, with that same voice which wasn't his voice. "Nobody will hurt me. I will not die. I will never die." he blabbered, not entirely sure of what he was saying, where he was, how things had come to this point or if this was real to begin with. "I...I won't allow it."

His vision started to spin, and he fell on the ground without making a noise. His consciousness went out an instant later.