Ash filled his lungs, cloying and all-consuming as he marched onwards, ignorant to those that suffered around him. Ignorant to his own suffering. He doesn't know what was happening, at one point he thinks everything had been normal, or at least, he hoped so. Yet, as the flames licked higher and higher into the sky, what he thought he knew faded into dust. His family if he had any. His friends if he had any. Neighbors, familiar places, his own self, his identity, his very existence. The only thing that had resolutely stayed with him was his name: Shirou.

For hours - it could have actually been minutes, but he didn't know - regardless, he kept marching forward, at one point the noise had died out, and a cruel solemn silence remained. Had his own hearing disappeared as well? Was this what death felt like? Eventually, the ghost aches of pain became overwhelming, and he dropped to his knees before facing up towards the distant, cold sky.

If he could, perhaps Shirou would have felt some envy for the cold, distant stars and moon. Freedom from the searing flames of hell around him, and yet, he felt nothing, he knew nothing, he was nothing. Stretching his hand out to an impossible dream, a wish that would never again be his own; the cruel wish of freedom. Forever locked away in the cruel hands of a world without remorse for anguish and agony. Shirou felt his will to survive fade to ash, as his hand steadily dropped.

As if by some miracle of fate, or the will of a higher power, Shirou felt warmth flood his system as his hand was enveloped by another's. His salvation was in the form of a man with a scruffy beard along his jaw, and matted, ash-choked dark hair. Tears were leaking from vacant eyes, as he stared at Shirou.

"He's alive..."

Shirou's eyes snapped open, cold sweat long since seeping into the thick fabric of his coat. Breathing heavily, Shirou sat there shaking for a short while as his heaving and convulsions tapered out. Despite the fact, it had been almost ten years since the fire, and six since Shirou forced the man that saved him to take him with him abroad. The black reaches of his personal hell still followed in his footsteps.

Now, however, Shirou would finally be returning to Fuyuki. Loathe as he was to return, he owed it to the memories of his deceased father. After he had Kiritsugu's body cremated, he shipped it back to Fuyuki to the Fujimura family for safekeeping, until he came back to give him a proper burial. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months, and now four years later, and Shirou has finally worked up the courage for something that's long, long overdue.

Crammed into the uncomfortably small chairs all airports seemed to come with, Shirou waited for the boarding call for transit to Japan. It was roughly twelve hours from the airport in Frankfurt, Germany to Fukuoka, and another three hours, or so, by train, until he was back in Fuyuki. Shirou had roughly 15 hours to get his shit in order.

Despite his misgivings of the place, there was a bright side to his return. He would be able to see the old man again, and his overly zealous granddaughter that had basically adopted herself into Kiritsugu's family. He would be able to return to a shred of normalcy. Listlessly, Shirou inventoried his small carry-on before sitting watching the people passing him by while drumming his fingers on his thighs. Something foreign flooded his system when he looked at the happy, joyous expressions of those pushing through the crowded terminal.

Here were families preparing for vacations. Here were individuals returning from long trips overseas to their loved ones. Here were hapless tourists that would most certainly fall victim to tourist traps during their stay. Here were ignorant people that didn't realize that this city was a hotbed for the supernatural and the magical. Actually, Shirou felt that this feeling should be envy, yet he knew it wasn't, such a feeling never came, Shirou had made his choice. Though while he observed the people, he couldn't help but wonder. Would he have been in this situation? Would he be like that whiny little kid that was pouting while his father tried desperately to placate him, to save himself from further embarrassment? Perhaps, he could be like that happy little couple that was hopelessly doting on each other as they shuffled through security.

Could someone like Shirou have that level of normalcy?

No, no he couldn't after everything he had seen. After everything he had experienced. After everything he had done, Shirou would never be able to experience normalcy. Does he even know what normalcy is? Perhaps he was the normal one, and everyone around him was abnormal. Shirou didn't know, nor did he feel like he ever would. The quiet buzzing of the intercom announced the outbound plane for Japan, which prompted Shirou to stand and wrestle his way through the throngs of people to his gate. Shirou wasn't the best with tight, enclosed spaces; however, he was lucky enough that he managed to purchase a ticket that placed him within a proximal distance of the emergency exit. After spending so many years living from a suitcase, following after Kiritsugu's back. Shirou had developed an acute fight-or-flight response to most situations. Even now, Shirou was still standing at trigger point – literally – as he could never be too careful.

It had to have been a miracle, he wasn't stuck next to some obnoxious or disgusting person nor was he surrounded by whining kids. He should start counting his blessing more often. Leaning back against the set, Shirou spent the long flight dissuading the overzealous hostess from giving him drinks or snacks every ten minutes. The plane shuddered briefly as they hit a stiff updraft, causing him to tense as well. He wasn't afraid of flying, nor did he have any fears of heights, but he was afraid of getting caught off guard by something that was outside of his control.

Shirou didn't want to be caught unaware and end up dropping thirty-thousand feet, or something much worse.

The hours ebbed on torturously slow, as the plane flew against the sun's course. The night was slowly bleeding into the area when the plane finally touched down. If all went well then Shirou shouldn't be too affected by jetlag. Luckily, he only had his overhead carry-on, so he didn't have to wait at all at baggage claim. The cool night air cleansed Shirou's lungs as he inhaled deeply and leaned his head back, taking in the sight of the cityscape around him. Fukuoka boasted a population of nearly two million cramped into roughly 345 square kilometers. Thankfully, Fuyuki wasn't this congested.

Meandering lazily down the street, Shirou paid keen attention to his surroundings as he walked. Perhaps he should stop and pick up something for Fuji-nee? Heaven knows that woman's going to be breaking down his door first thing when she finds out he is back. Maybe something small could tide over that monster until he made something. Stepping into the closest convenience store, Shirou picked up a few things before carrying them onto the train station.

Some two hours later, Shirou was finally freed from the cramped train. Unlike Shinjuku station Fuyuki was way less cramped, however, there was still a fair amount of employees and students heading to their own destinations. Back on the streets of Fuyuki, Shirou faltered and stared at everything. So familiar, yet simultaneously so foreign. Back when he and Kiritsugu had left, the police and the JSDF were still rebuilding from the damage. Now, however, everything seemed so fresh and new. Yet, Shirou could still feel the familiar overbearing pressure that rested heavily on his chest. A feeling that writhed deeply in his bones.

The moon began its steady ascent into the crisp evening sky as Shirou walked through familiar streets. The home that he and Kiritsugu had stayed in while they were there, looked just the same as they had left it. It seems that old man Fujimura had made good on his promise. However, Shirou ignored the house and stepped through the gates of the Old Man's compound. He was immediately accosted by multiple men in sleek black suits and non-descript black sunglasses.

"Ah Shirou, you're back," one of them said, causing a smile to bloom on his face. He was always a fan of familiarity.

"Hey, is the old man in?"

"Yes, Fujimura-dono and Taiga is here. If you would follow me, I believe that they will both be excited to see you." At this Shirou mentally patted himself on the back. He had managed to abate Fuji-nee at least for one night. He really needed to sleep.

Padding slowly through the hallways of the Fujimura compound, reveling in the feelings of familiarity. Stopping in front of the paper screen door of the main seating area, Shirou's presence was announced and he was swiftly inducted inside. Seated facing the door were two very familiar faces and an equally familiar plain black urn. Fuji-nee bubbly expression and million-watt smile caused a grin to spread across Shirou's lips. He dropped his bag as he promptly caught the teal and yellow missile that was launched at him.

"Shirou welcome back!" Fuji-nee began exuberantly. "How was your trip? Where did you go? Did you bring back any gifts? What did you see? See any cute girls? What did you eat while you were away? Did you even eat? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Are you really going to do your big sister like that!" Fuji-nee shot off in rapid-fire as she choked Shirou both in fondness and mounting annoyance.

In the haze of fog that came with being choked out, Shirou heard the throaty laugh of the old man, which slightly irked him, before a wide smirk stretched his lips. "Don't blame me Fuji-nee, I called old man Fujimura and told him to tell you that I was coming back. Clearly, he didn't do that."

At those words, the joyous expression on Raiga Fujimura's face turned downright murderous as he glared at his surrogate grandchild. This kid was so going to get it. However, his expression quickly shifted into a chalky white as his granddaughter turned towards him with a blank expression. Scratch that, he might be dead before he even got the chance. Shirou's quietly laugh echoed under the sounds of bloody murder, causing Raiga to turned murderous bloodshot eyes to his youngest. 'One day, just you wait.' he wanted to scream, but nothing came out aside from quiet wheezes and pained grunts.

Outside in the safety of the halls of the Fujimura compound, the many guards and members all shuddered in quiet horror as they intentionally ignored the agonized sounds coming from their boss. They had learned their lessons; loyalty can only extend so far.

'We're sorry, Boss!'

After several minutes and a few thousand dollars of damaged property later, the trio sat around the central table comfortably, three cups of steaming tea sat in front of them. Sat in the center of the table was quite possibly one of the most important things to Shirou. It was plain and black and so utterly like Kiritsugu it hurt. Shirou couldn't take his eyes off of it.

After taking a sip of his drink, Raiga cleared his throat drawing the younger two's attention, "Now that you're back Shirou, it's only proper that I hand him off to you."

Silence hung once more in the air as Shirou maintained his staring contest with the urn.

"…what do you want to do?" Raiga's voice having a soft edge to it.

Pondering quietly, Shirou sat and stared. Now that he was back, what did he want to do? Over the course of his journey home, he had thrown around so many ideas of what he would do when he got to this point. Yet, here he was and everything that he had thought up flew out the window; left behind was a static gray film that seemed to coat everything. What would Kiritsugu do in this position? Should he take it to the temple and bury it there? Should he take him home? Should he leave it here? Should he even bury the urn? He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know…

A soft weight fell onto his shoulders.

"You don't have to decide now," Fuji-nee said, her voice soft and understanding. "We can keep it here until you come to a decision."

At those words, Shirou's resolve firmed. He knows what he'll do. The highest form of respect he could give to his father, "I would like to take him from you, old man."

Raiga was about to speak, but the firm and resolved expression on his surrogate grandchild's young face reassured him. In the short times that the Fujimura family spent with the two, Raiga had come to know that resolved look in his youngest bronze eyes. He wouldn't back down; he was going to see this through until the end. Easily the most difficult challenge of his young life.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Raiga questioned, as he watched Shirou gather the urn into his arms.

"No thanks, old man," he turned before throwing a soft grin over his shoulder to the two, "tomorrow I'll bring some food over for you."

Shirou couldn't help to chuckle when he heard the small excited gasp escape from Fuji-nee as he walked down the halls.

Once back into the quiet dark recesses of his own home, Shirou carefully set his father's ashes on the landing as he stepped out of his shoes and proceeded deeper into the house. Stopping briefly to drop his things off into his room, Shirou proceeded into Kiritsugu's room; regardless of being back on familiar soil there was no telling what can happen should he become complacent and let his guard down. One of the most important lessons Kiritsugu had drilled into his head was the need for absolute caution, always weighing the pros and cons so that he doesn't wind up in a situation that puts him at risk.

Still though, standing in front of the room that Kiritsugu always used when they were home, Shirou hesitated. Annoyed with himself, Shirou flung the door open, yet still remained where he was. He didn't need to stay in here, all he needed was to do one single thing. Shirou could literally feel himself getting worked up as he stepped into the room. Ignoring everything, Shirou slide open the door to his closet, and pressed his hand against the back wall before flooding the sealing array with prana. The Bounded Field that Kiritsugu had erected around the compound was extremely rudimentary and mundane, yet it served its purpose well.

The Emiya Manor Bounded Field served as a glorified alarm system for those with ill intent. Rudimentary but a vast improvement over places he had been. Afterward, Shirou swiftly darted out of the room and stepped out into the central courtyard of the compound. Setting his father's urn by the porch, Shirou walked over to the shed and came back out with a shovel. The highest form of respect Shirou could show to his father would be to bury him in his most favorite place.

A long while later, a sweat-soaked Shirou finished packing in the earth before leaning back on his heels, as he turned his face towards the sky.

"I finally made it back Kiritsugu… sorry it took me so long; I know you had been waiting," Shirou said. He swallowed thickly and fell completely silent, perhaps waiting for someone to respond, waiting for one person to reply. Releasing the breathe that was buried deep in his chest, Shirou's shoulders fell as he turned back to the house, taking a seat on the patio watching the intricate patterns his breath made in the air. "You know Kiritsugu, there's so much that I want to talk to you about, so much that I need to ask you about, but I don't think it will be anything that even you have an answer for. Regardless, I need to tell you that I failed; I failed miserably. I wish you were here to help me, but I know you're not." At this point, hot tears began to slowly stream down Shirou's face, "just watch me though, I won't give up until I have everything that you had struggled so hard for. I won't give up until your daughter can come and talk to you herself."

Kiritsugu had believed himself to be a sinner, one that couldn't do a single thing right in his life. Shirou denies this even to this day. Kiritsugu's actions and wish were selfish, no doubt, but Shirou always found the beauty of a simple desire to be with family as the greatest wish in the world. The desire to be free from the grips of the past, to just look forward and embrace the future; therefore, Shirou's goal was simple: find Illya, rescue Illya, protect Illya from the Einzbern family, and bring her back so that she can talk with Kiritsugu herself. Simple. But Shirou doesn't know if he has the strength necessary to contend with a magus family as powerful as the Einzbern. Kiritsugu might have always been dubious about his affiliation with the Einzberns in the past, but he had always made it abundantly clear that he didn't want his biological daughter, nor his adopted son anywhere close to them. Therefore, Shirou has a lot cut out for him when he returns to Germany.

He just hopes that fate doesn't trap him so completely that he loses everything in the end.

Disclaimer: Everything that seems familiar to the audience means I do not own it. Please support any story's official release.

Until next time.

Ex.

Updated 16th May 2021