Was it strange that I accepted my current circumstances so easily?

I contemplated the ease at which I assimilated into the world. At the edge of death, I was suddenly reborn into another world as a baby. Most people would've been unaccepting, frustrated, confused, shell-shocked, or some combination of those feelings in my shoes. After all, sudden reincarnation was something hardly anyone can even consider a possibility, nevermind prepare for it. In my situation, I imagined that most people who be plotting to find a way back. I couldn't blame them; they certainly had friends, family, material possessions, status, and more back home. It would not be easy to toss away how many years of life, with all its highs and lows, just to start afresh in unfamiliar circumstances.

However, I could hardly call myself a regular person. Unfortunately, that luxury had long since been taken from me. As for leaving Fuyuki behind, it left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. Issei was a valued friend, and many were the lunch periods we spent together, chatting amicably and running around the school fulfilling repair requests. Taiga was also someone I held dear. Her childish personality was only a façade for the caring, responsible woman that laid underneath. In the wake of Kiritsugu's death, she had taken it upon herself to be my guardian, and those years of care and company were a debt I could never hope to repay.

Not that I could now, anyway.

Nevertheless, what I lost was far more significant. While those two were a steady, calming presence in his life, it was only on that fateful day, when I gazed up to orbs of emerald shimmering in the moonlight, that my life began to truly change. Where was no way I could disregard Issei and Taiga's effects on me – doing so would be spitting upon their memory – it didn't quite feel right to go back. No doubt that every little thing would have reminded me of them, of what I lost, of how I failed.

Truthfully, I wouldn't have minded being dead. Meeting them again in whatever afterlife awaited us – if it existed at all – would have been preferable to a life without them. Nonetheless, if life was my only option, then I supposed that rebirth into another world, one where I could start anew – as new as my damaged mind would allow – was a better alternative to dragging my mangled corpse to the Emiya household and looking Taiga in the eye as I provided her with bullshit on why my sudden guests had all vanished – Sakura and Rin especially since they went to school.

The temptation to die anyway occasionally resurfaced, rearing its ugly head. However, Illya had sacrificed herself to save me, so tossing my life aside would be trampling on her last wishes. Furthermore, my life was still built upon the victims of the fire that devasted Fuyuki all those years ago. Ending it with no true purpose would be wasting all the lives I had taken.

Some people might have critiqued me that I was running away from my problems. Adversity builds character, after all. My response would have come in the form of a snarky remark, courtesy of Archer, and possibly even some bladed violence depending on the person. I normally would not be as volatile as that, but when it comes to them, even I get emotional, I supposed. The void left behind still stung as painfully as it did before. Another change they left unfinished.

Time had not healed me at all. Instead, it gave me the ability to just shift through my memories, reliving every precious moment that I had taken for granted. And with that came the ache of not having them by my side. It was a vicious cycle, one that fed into itself and exacerbated my sorrows. Even more time could possibly fix it, but usually that solution involved slowly forgetting the cause of the problem, and I would never allow myself to let go of the times we shared.

Still, for better or worse, it's been quite some time now. It was hard to tell time in my current state as well as the lack of time-telling devices around me. The home I was in seemed to be fairly basic. Well-furnished but spartan otherwise. There were no signs of technology on the level I was accustomed to; there were no clocks or calendars from what I could see. I mainly used the position of the sun to tell the time. From what I could tell, the day-night cycle of this world seems to be fairly similar, if not identical, to the 24-hour cycle back home.

The loss of convenient technology didn't bother me much. While there were some things I would have greatly appreciated to have – plumbing would be a godsend – I was never much for electronics or the like. No doubt some of my peers would be frothing at the absence of their cell phones or music players, but I wasn't a social butterfly, and I never felt my heart dance to a beat like most people claim theirs does.

Though if I had been transported with some technology on my person – a phone for instance – reverse engineering the device and accelerating the technology progress of this world would have been an interesting idea. Still, the idea of being in another world with a phone of all things seemed ridiculous.

"Shirou, say, 'Ahhh!'"

I wordlessly opened my mouth, and Zenith placed the wooden spoon in my mouth, beckoning me to swallow. Of course, since I was actually an adult and not a baby, I silently obliged.

The food seemed to be some form of porridge. It made sense: I doubt they had baby formula in these times. However, the taste was fairly lackluster, though I couldn't help but wonder if that was my fault.

"Ahhh, he's so obedient!" the woman in front of me exclaimed. "Though he doesn't seem to like the food…." Zenith trailed off with a somewhat gloomy expression.

The woman in front of me was my mother, though I had a hard time calling her that. I wasn't used to calling someone "mother", and if anyone in my life were to be called my mother, it would be Fuji-nee, though it didn't quite fit. Nevertheless, I would try my best to refer to her as such. Zenith was a fairly expressive person, providing much of the warmth and liveliness in the household I was in. While I didn't fully agree with it, I was grateful to her, and I didn't want to cause her grief.

As she dipped her spoon into the bowl and brought it back out again, I lunged forward with all my might – which didn't amount to much – and closed my mouth around the spoon.

My actions surprised Zenith, causing her to flinch backwards in shock. Unfortunately, her hand followed her arm, and the spoon it held was jerked backwards as well, taking my still-attached head with it.

The result was me toppling over from the sitting position I was being fed from, and my body's poor muscle development could not stop my head from falling downwards, taking my body with it as I fell from the chair, slamming my head against the hard wooden floor.

"Shirou!" Zenith exclaimed.

Truthfully, it wasn't much to worry about. While infants' heads were fairly heavy compared to the rest of the body, making looking around slightly difficult, they were also decently sturdy depending on the area. Thankfully, I had hit myself firmly on the forehead, so any damage would be negligible.

"Oh, Shirou, I'm so sorry!"

Apparently, Zenith didn't think so. She propped me up on a table and held a hand to the wound. It was red, and while there was no bleeding, it definitely left a mark. The pain wasn't particularly bad, so I truly thought it wasn't a concern. Nevertheless, she looked at the bruise with blatant anxiety and guilt.

"Don't worry, I'll fix this."

If anything, the fault was mine. I would've told her so if I could, but in my current state, the best I could do was make a vaguely-disapproving noise.

"Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again – Healing!"

A soft light covered her hand, and I could feel her magical energy flowing into me, reversing the damage on the cells on my forehead. By the time she was finished, my head was completely healed, and there was no trace of the accident ever occurring.

"There, all fixed! But you have to be more careful, Shirou," she lightly admonished while patting my head.

"What's the matter?" Paul asked from the window. He was leaning against the windowsill from the outside, and judging from the thin film of sweat covering him, he was training.

"Shirou fell down from the chair and hit his head."

"Oh, that's it?" Paul's gaze traveled from Zenith to me, and I didn't miss the slight wince in his eyes. "Eh, he's fine," Paul flippantly dismissed with a wave of his hands. "Though he might just be my child if he can keep going after that. Also, wasn't it your fault, Zenith?"

"Well maybe if you helped me for a change, this wouldn't have happened. Besides, how was I supposed to know he would bite the spoon like that?" she denied with a roll of her eyes.

"You're supposed to be watching him. What happens to him falls on you." He propped up his head on his hand, looking boredly at the scene before him. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway. You can just keep healing him."

"That's not the point, Paul," Zenith was practically fuming, which was in sharp contrast with Paul's dismissive, almost contemptuous, demeanor.

"It's fine. He'll grow stronger because of it." With that, the man turned around and walked away from the window to continue his training.

These types of back and forths were fairly typical for them. They reminded me much of the dynamic between Tohsaka and I. Usually Zenith was a bit more willing to acquiesce victory in these verbal spars to Paul, but she was stubbornly holding her ground this time. I suspect that my injury played a large part in that – no mother wants to see her child hurt and then her husband disregard it – but Zenith has been doing this more and more lately. While their banter seemed typical for a married couple sharing the frustrations of raising a child from an outsider's perspective, I could sense the slightly sinister undertones in their words. Despite what people around me have said, I was slow, not stupid.

It was technically my fault. I hadn't realized at first, but I was in a younger version of my old body. One time, I had looked at myself in the mirror while being carried around the house, and my golden-brown eyes were gazing back at me. My suspicions were confirmed when my hair had started growing. My hair was auburn, and after several months, I had a crown of reddish brown hair on my head.

However, the issue lied precisely with my resemblance to my past self. One look at myself next to my parents, and the issue was obvious: I looked nothing like them.

I had inherited neither Zenith's lustrous blonde nor Paul's rugged brown hair. My red hair wasn't even a cross of either, so I looked more like one of my parents' distant, distant nephews than their own son.

My eyes were also different. I had striking amber orbs while Zenith had ocean blue and Paul sported green eyes. I supposed that my eye color wasn't completely different from Paul's – depending on the lighting, they could even appear the same – but it was distinct enough to raise several questions.

My unique appearance had thrown off my parents. At first, they were willing to overlook it, but as my hair grew out, my genetics became the topic for many discussions in the household – some hushed behind closed doors and others a bit more passionate. There were several nights in their bedroom where Paul would angrily yell that I was not his son, and Zenith would fervently deny it.

Words were exchanged, trying to find a reasonable explanation for why their son looked nothing like his parents, and while reaching for an answer, Paul had sparked the root of their feud: he had accused Zenith of cheating on him.

It was a somewhat reasonable assumption and probably one of the things that would've came to my mind had I been in the same situation as him. However, humans are fragile, both emotionally and physically, and relationships are built on honesty and trust. For Paul to accuse his wife of cheating on him is tantamount to him belittling her integrity as a person and the quality of her character. Unfortunately, from what I could tell, Paul wasn't quite bright. Had he thought about the possibility of Zenith cheating on him, he would have realized that his claims had no basis.

First, there weren't any people nearby who had my distinctive features. According to Zenith, nobody in the village or from their past adventuring experiences shared the combination of my hair and eyes. Furthermore, even if there was someone who looked like me, Paul should've realized that Zenith did not have the opportunity to cheat on him. As Zenith's primary concern, I could attest to this. Zenith never really left the house. At the very least, she was always nearby for the entirety of my time in this world. If she wasn't raising me and showering me with affection, she was cooking meals or cleaning the house. Her only "free time" was spent tending to her garden outside, especially her tree in the yard.

Our maid, Lilia, supported Zenith since she never saw her with another person during Paul's morning patrols or suspiciously leave the house.

Naturally, the accusation hurt Zenith. Apparently, she was a devout follower of the Milis religion and was fairly conservative, including her views of monogamy. The allegation spat on everything she was and believed in. Contrary to the woman's usual kind and warm nature, Zenith replied in kind to Paul, bringing up his womanizing nature and what he could be doing behind her back during his "patrols". It was only after Zenith had said that, revealing the trust she placed on him despite his questionable past, that their argument finally started dying down, and their earlier anger becoming only a mild simmer. The night ended with Paul apologizing, though I could tell he still harbored doubts, but the damage was already done.

After that day, the tension between the two was so palpable, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Paul was also far chillier with me than before. Gone were the times he would spend minutes on end making silly faces at me. I made sure to smile to reward his efforts, but I never did laugh – which may have contributed to his idea that I wasn't his child. His treatment towards me was never harsh, but it didn't exude the warm and caring touch he had before.

On the other hand, Zenith continued affectionately raising me. In fact, her feelings may have even grown stronger as a result of her fight with Paul. Perhaps her motherly instincts magnified her fondness for me because Paul's hesitance grated on her? I wasn't sure; I was never an expert in emotions. Still, she became far more overprotective of me, which bothered me as I am the last person that needed protecting. Nevertheless, I tried to repay her kindness as best I could, even if it meant taking advantage of my baby status.

For example, appeasing her cooking skills. People appreciated it when others liked their cooking. From firsthand experience, my few moments of pride came from my allies in the Holy Grail War complement my cooking.

Judging from Zenith's reaction, my little gesture had the intended effects. It was hard to feel good about what happened since I was only giving her back a portion of the kindness she had given me, and Paul's remarks no doubt worsened her mood, but the overall interaction seemed to make Zenith happier, which is what mattered. Also, while the fall was unintentional, it did grant me the opportunity to witness this world's magecraft in person.

The mana in the air was plentiful, but this incident was the first time I've seen people actively using magecraft here. My mother was a typical housewife, taking care of chores around the house and nourishing me as well. Paul was a knight. Neither of them used magecraft on a daily basis. However, I knew that the citizens of this world could utilize it. Paul was a knight and wielded a basic longsword. I had subconsciously traced his weapon, and from the memories it held, I knew Paul used his od to empower himself, reaching physical capabilities far beyond human. In a sense, it was similar to reinforcement. His memories also held connections to his days as an adventurer, where he encountered magecraft-wielding opponents.

The incantation she used was a bit lengthy, but the end result was similar to one of Tohsaka's healing spells. However, the specifics of magecraft were far beyond me; barely over two weeks ago, I was ignorant to the inner workings of thaumaturgy, purposefully due to my father's teachings. Tohsaka's, and eventually Illya's, lectures on the subject helped to shed light on why and how things worked, but ultimately the massive amounts of theory needed to truly understand magecraft created more questions than answers and were frankly an unnecessary distraction in the chaos of the Fifth Holy Grail War.

Not that understanding the magical system here was a useless endeavor, but I was a person of practice first and foremost. Though in this unknown world, I wish I had Tohsaka's genius to help comprehend whatever was going on around me.

At the very least, it seemed that my own magecraft was still functioning as it should, though whatever laws governed my abilities before would no doubt be different here. I only experimented with structural grasping because it was a fairly simple, discrete spell. I had no need for Zenith and Paul to see their child running and jumping at my age nor to see me summon swords and other weapons from thin air, though I would need to try them eventually. I had to know the limits of my current capabilities if I wanted to surpass them.

But then again, maybe this new body, combined with this world's thaumaturgical rules, would allow me to experiment more than I could before. According to Tohsaka, it was a miracle that I didn't permanently injure or kill myself with my bastardized circuit creation process.

"Alright Shirou, last one."

Zenith placed the last spoonful of food in front of my mouth, which I quickly ate. She wore a pleased expression at the ease at which I consumed her food. She probably expected raising a child to be far more difficult and frustrating. Thankfully for her, I was completely aware of myself and felt no need to cry or whine. I intended for my upbringing to be as easy and straightforward as possible. Signaling my hunger was as easy as getting her attention and pointing towards my open mouth. I could go to the bathroom myself now, though I did not have the proper muscle control myself previously, leading to me ruining many pairs of pants.

The only true difficulty I presented as a child was breastfeeding. The nutrients in the milk were essential for the growth of infants. Unfortunately for Zenith, she wasn't feeding a baby who instinctively sought to suck on her breasts, but a young adult. The first time she tried to feed me, I was aghast what she was doing. It made sense, of course, but it felt extremely improper to do so as a gentleman. Zenith and I were locked in some kind of showdown with neither of us willing to back down. The confrontation only ended due to Paul's intervention, who forcefully shoved my head onto Zenith while making snide remarks about my sexuality.

Being stuck in the baby form of my body was fairly annoying, and it also made me question why my body was so similar to my old one. I had the same distinctive red hair and golden eyes from my previous life. Looking inwards, I feel them: twenty-seven magic circuits of average quality. Originally, neglect had left them in poor condition, and overuse of magecraft in the final stages of the war had damaged them. Magic circuits were parts of one's soul and are therefore irreparable. However, the ones I possessed right now were completely normal, free of the abuse they suffered before.

I wasn't sure how they had been fixed. Was it the grail? It was an omnipotent wish-granting device. Surely repairing a soul wasn't beyond its capabilities, right? I was decently confident that the grail had something to do with his reincarnation anyway. I didn't notice it at first, but my brain seemed wired towards the language of this world already. I noticed this when I tried to speak with my underdeveloped vocal cords, but my brain came to a screeching halt as I had to actively think about which words to use. After becoming aware of that fact, I realized that my parents were not actually speaking Japanese, but my brain seemed to process their words like it was.

It was not dissimilar to how the grail informed Servants of the necessary information about culture and language in order to properly conduct the war. Seriously, not only did I already know how to communicate in this foreign world, but I was given the same body as before, and my parents just so magically decided to give me the same name I had before? Talk about convenient. It was almost as if the grail decided to give me a second chance at life while making the transition as seamless as possible.

"Alright, I'm going to look after the garden for a bit. I won't be gone soon, Shirou." She kissed me on my forehead and turned to the other person in the room. "Lilia, please keep an eye on him."

"Of course, Zenith-sama." Lilia acknowledged and bowed.

With one last glance at me, Zenith left the room, leaving me along with our resident maid.

If he had to describe Lilia with one word, it would be stiff. The woman was quite uptight, oozing professionalism and politeness at every single instance of the day. Her interactions with the rest of the family were curt, always showing respect to Zenith and Paul and deferring to them in any possible situations that their authority was required. It wasn't particularly surprising; while she did live with the family and develop some kind of chemistry with the two adults, their relationship was ultimately one of beneficiaries: Lilia worked for money in exchange for her services. Not to say that a friendship was impossible to cultivate between them, but the line between employee and employer is something to carefully tread around. A false move could send one's personal and professional life to the gutters.

To be honest, I would have preferred if Lilia did consider becoming a closer confidant to both of them. With Zenith and Paul's relationship is disarray, they needed someone to felt facilitate their reconciliation. I was in no state to do so, physically or mentally, so the responsibility regrettably fell upon Lilia. It bothered me to hope for her intervention for a problem I caused, but until I could walk around and talk normally, it was out of my hands. I would be sure to repay her and more in the future.

I idly considered how long this feud would last. If it continued until I was physically capable, perhaps around five to six years old, there was the option to run away. I was the source of the problem, so naturally, removing me from the household should fix Zenith and Paul's marriage. It might take some time, but hopefully, they would have a new child, one they could be proud to call their own, and they would forget all about me.

"Shirou-sama, please refrain from going up the stairs again. I cannot supervise you up there while continuing my duties," the maid said. Ahh yes, unfortunately, I had gotten a bit overzealous in my attempts at movement and tried to go up the stairs while crawling, and the creaks of the wooden boards had revealed my – to them – precarious position to Lilia during the last time she watched over me. Being the dutiful servant she was, she later informed Zenith, who instructed her to stop me from doing anything remotely dangerous.

It was truly a pity. While I appreciated her sentiments, Zenith was being slightly suffocating, and I certainly didn't need someone watching over me.

It was slightly concerning that Lilia was speaking to me as if I had the mental capabilities of an adult. I knew that I was displaying intelligence and coordination far beyond that of an infant's, but surely there had to be some limit to how highly she thought of me? It baffled me even further that I knew that Lilia, despite the respect she showed me even if I was just about half a year old, was slightly wary of me.

Paul and Zenith didn't quite seem to pick up that I was significantly more than I showed – if they did, they never let it show or bother them – but Lilia's trepidation around me was quite noticeable. Perhaps not to most people, but as someone who was skilled in observation, her constant anxiety and tension showed. Her eyes would quickly dart towards me at regular intervals as if she were expecting me to transform into a giant monster at any given moment. She definitely perspired more in my presence, though I admit that I used some magecraft to help confirm that particular theory.

I didn't want her to be constantly on edge around me; I had no desire to see her discomfort. I tried little tricks like what did with Zenith earlier, using my baby charms to ease her tension. Thankfully, while progress seemed a bit slow, I was finally receiving results.

Without the ability to explore upstairs, I was left with nothing else to do. I would've liked to find some books to get see if my innate translation ability transferred to reading, but I didn't want to trouble Lilia by wandering out of her sight. If anything happened to me, Zenith would have held her responsible.

I didn't want to waste my time idly thinking, so I opted to crawl around the first floor of the house. The Greyrats – I assumed that was their family name – lived in a fairly luxurious home. Since Paul was a knight, he must have been well-paid for his services of protecting the village. The house was mostly wood, befitting on the medieval era technology of this world, and it was fairly large, capable of housing all four of us with room to spare. We also had a yard, though it might have been just empty space no one else was using. From what I've seen from the window, the village we were in was fairly remote. It was all plains and farmlands as far as I could see. Even if I reinforced my eyes, I doubt I would've seen anything different. With this much available space, people wouldn't have bothered drawing up precise boundaries between properties.

By now, I finished my third lap around the first floor. Lilia was looking at me oddly, but she didn't try to stop me. Perhaps physical training at the tender age of six months wasn't going to be particularly effective, but a hero of justice must always be prepared.

I gently opened the door.

A quick glance to the hallway revealed no one.

Perfect.

I nudged the door further ajar, leaving an opening just enough for my small frame to fit through. I knew that opening it further would cause the hinges to squeak. Closing the door with equal care, I made my way over to Zenith and Paul's room with small steps and placed the side of my head against the door, listening intently.

Their silence, interrupted only by Paul's gentle snoring, confirmed my suspicions: they were fast asleep. Not surprising since it was fairly deep into the night.

Satisfied with my assessment, I executed the next part of my plan: sneaking out. I stepped away from the room and headed down the hallway as surreptitiously as possible. I crouched and placed a hand to the floor, channeling my od to the wood to start my specific brand of magecraft. My magical energy spread throughout the hallway, and the world around me transformed to wireframe, letting me examine my surroundings like a blueprint. Looking closely at the floor, I found what I was looking for: four wooden planks, weaker and rotted slightly more than the rest. The lower stiffness of the material could cause noise that could potentially wake the other residents of the house.

Making sure to avoid those specific parts of the floor, I sneaked over to the staircase and began my descent. Given my legs, I couldn't really walk down them smoothly, so I had to drop down onto each step. I couldn't really avoid any potentially noisy boards on the stairs, so my only option was to hope for the best.

Thankfully, the adults upstairs were none the wiser as I reached the bottom and quickly made my way to the front door. With only one last glance back, I left the house.

The first thing I noticed was the cold. I had gone outside with nothing more than the pajamas I went to bed with. The thin fabric wasn't the best suited for the chilly nights in this world, but it would have to do. Besides, with what I had in mind, the cold would not be a problem.

I made my back to the back of the house, away from any potentially prying eyes from the rest of the village. It was a fairly clear area, free of any possible obstructions aside from the trees that dotted the landscape. It suited my needs quite well.

"Trace, on."

Twenty-seven magic circuits. In a previous life, they had deteriorated due to lack of use. That would not be the case here.

I gently channeled energy into them. I didn't need to strain myself just yet.

I looked inwards, searching within myself. My soul was the same as before, thus it still contained the blade works from which I could trace what I needed.

I held out my hand, and after a flash of blue light, I was holding a perfectly normal kitchen knife. It felt slightly awkward to hold, mainly since my hands still had baby fat that made it a bit difficult to properly curl my fingers around the handle, not to mention that my two year old hands were not quite large enough to comfortably contain it within my grip.

More specifically, it was the kitchen knife from the kitchen. Within it contained the memories of Zenith and Lilia's cooking skills. The memories were somewhat substantial, containing years of experience preparing ingredients for countless meals. Still, aside from that, it was a perfectly normal kitchen knife. Not the most exciting of options, but considering it was my first projection in this world, I wanted to play it safe.

I experimentally swung it around a few times, testing its weight and reach. It wasn't a horrible weapon since it was a standard chef's knife, so it had a good length to the blade. The quality was decent, certainly far better than a typical knife in the clearance bin at a market.

I mentally critiqued my technique as the blade cut through the air around me. Of course, compared to a real swordsman such as Saber, it was a pathetic display. She had talent in spades, carefully cultivated by skilled instructors over several years in order to prepare her for the mantle of kingship. Compared to me waving around this knife like an idiot, there was no contest.

That's fine. Emiya Shirou was no warrior. I was a magus first and foremost, even if I was a mere third-rate. Even Archer, whose skill with the blade was built over a near eternity as a Counter Guardian, was easily batted aside by Saber and Lancer, who were natural warriors.

That didn't mean I didn't need to practice my physical skills – there was hardly any shame in lacking compared to a knight-class servant – but if I couldn't defeat something, I needed to imagine something that could. Rather than brute-forcing through a problem, I needed to be precise, carefully analyzing and picking the correct tool to exploit potential weaknesses.

Spotting a tree about 10 meters away, I stopped my practice and placed myself square towards it. Flipping the knife until I was holding it by its blade, I cocked my right arm back until the knife was to my ear.

I channeled prana to my arm, flooding the gaps in my bones, nerves, muscles, and skin with magical energy and causing glowing lines to appear on my arm due to the exertion of my magic circuits. With the reinforcement applied, I flicked the knife forwards, watching it fly until it embedded itself into the trunk of the tree with a definite thud.

The blade was launched with far more power and speed than my small frame could have possibly outputted. It seemed that reinforcement was working as intended.

With my thaumaturgical capabilities established, it was time to beginning training in earnest.

In my last life, my weakness led to the deaths of everyone I held dear. Despite my rapid improvement over the course of the war, I was unable to save everyone. I had spent the previous 17 years doing nothing, throwing away precious time as I meandered through life. This time around, I would not make that same mistake.

The first step was to improve my physical capabilities. I had already waited two years to start training. At this point, my coordination and body had developed to the point that I could any basic movement such as jumping and running without difficulty. Reinforcement was a powerful tool, but it could only improve something so much. If my base parameters were too low, it wouldn't be nearly as effective.

I began my routine from my past life, lowering myself almost to the ground, supported only by my arms. With a sharp intake of air, I pushed myself up, and repeated that process for as long as I could. I only knew basic calisthenics, but they would suffice once I combined it with high-intensity combat training.

It only took ten reps before I was breathing heavily and slowing down. Another ten left me sprawled on the ground in exhaustion, heaving large amounts of air in and out of my lungs.

I cursed myself for my poor physical state. With this starting point, it would take a lot of time before I could reach acceptable bodily performance. Still, no one had ever accused me of giving up.

With my push up set done, I worked on other exercises. Sit ups yielded largely the same results, only being able to do about twenty before my core refused to move. To round out my weight exercises, I looked at the tree I had launched the knife at. I channeled more energy to my legs this time and ran towards it. With a hop, I planted one foot against its trunk, bending my knees to conserve my momentum. Pushing off that same leg, I jumped towards one of its branches, firmly wrapping my hands around it. Due to my lack of weight, it wasn't sagging at all. With my hands in a comfortable position, I tried to pull myself up, but my lack of strength left me futilely dangling in the air. Frustrated, I reinforced my arms and torso slightly, just until my chin could reach the branch. Was it cheating? Perhaps, but as long as it accelerated my growth, I didn't care.

I repeated the pull ups until the effort grew laborious. I dropped myself back to the ground and contemplated what to do next. Cardio seemed like a natural choice, and it would be important to practice. With the lack of transportation in this world, walking and running would be more important.

Picking out a tree on top a nearby hill, I sprinted towards it. Of course, with my short legs, my speed was lackluster, but I was more concerned with stamina and conditioning. Training my body to function with as little oxygen as possible would be crucial in combat, so intense aerobics would be key.

Reaching the tree, I wrapped an arm around the trunk and used my momentum to spin around trunk before continuing the run back in the opposite direction. By the time I made it back to my starting point, I was almost dying of exhaustion. I was laying down on the grass, basking in the moonlight. I swiped my sleeve across my forehead, and it came back damp with sweat.

I smiled. It was a symbol of my efforts, a testament to my determination. My dream may be impossible, but I would pursue it with blood and sweat all the same.

Concluding the night, I tried one last projection. Still laying down, I traced a familiar pair of swords. They shot down from the sky, embedded themselves into the ground next to me. Kanshou's midnight-black hexagons contrasted sharply with Bakuya's hazy white coloration. In the illumination of the moon, their beauty was magnified even further.

They were Emiya Shirou's favored swords. They were created with no true purpose, neither to cut down enemies nor be weapons of legend. Their quality was exquisite, but its craftsmanship was more for the sake of creation than to draw eyes to it. They had served me well over the course of the war. I saw no need to abandon them now.

Emiya Shirou died a pitiful death. It was a fact that I could not deny. Everything that I had learned and all the struggle I persevered through had amounted to nothing. I died, full of regret, lamenting my uselessness. I had left that cavern with nothing, everyone and everything slipping through my fingers. Even now, I still didn't know why I was given a second chance I neither asked for nor wanted.

There was nothing left for me but this ideal. It was a mistake to turn it away, to believe that a sword could be anything different. Fate had cruelly reminded me of that fact. Here, in this new world, with this new life, I had no choice but to dedicate every fiber of my being to being a sword.

Deep in my thoughts, I absentmindedly gaze up. The night was pitch dark, the only source of light being a slight sliver of the moon accompanied by five distinct stars. Their light was dim, and they could have easily been missed without close inspection, but they shone nonetheless.

Saber. Rin. Sakura. Illya. Rider.

What I would give to receive some of their guidance right now.

Am I making the right choice?

A/N: If this chapter felt boring to read, don't worry – it was equally boring to write. Nonetheless, exposition is a fate special.

Some people have raised their concerns about me not know what the hell I'm doing due to the light novels not being finished. It's a valid point, but I doubt I'll actually continue this fanfic to the point that the later plot points start to matter. And if they come up earlier and X was supposed to happen, well I don't really have an answer to that besides trying my best to bullshit an explanation into the story later once I learn of it.

And yes, I don't know where Zenith and Paul's fight subplot thing is going. I had a much easier time writing when I could visualize Shirou in the story, hence why he's in his previous body and his parents named him Shirou. Does it make sense? No. Unfortunately, that left me with in an awkward position, so I felt Paul's relunctance towards Shirou is fairly justified.

Please review. More so towards the characters and how the characters influence the story rather than if later plot point X is happening, though I understand it's unlikely anyone is going to do so anyway. Nevertheless, thank you for your time.