Spending time with Sakura was always a breath of fresh air for Shirou. It made him feel at peace, like he could forget about all of his worries and just enjoy being with her, even if he knew that wasn't the case.

She had eaten his chicken soba with gusto, enjoying the food he had prepared for her, even if she didn't show it in her expression. Shirou's heart filled with joy, glad beyond belief that he could bring Sakura even a small amount of happiness, even though that joy was marred by the knowledge that he still couldn't save her yet.

Shirou stretched, raising his arms skyward as he took in the beauty of the summer sun, shining down warmly on the gently swaying trees. Sakura set down her now-empty container onto the table, then turned around on the bench and scooted a little closer to him, leaning her head next to his, trying to see if he was looking at anything in particular.

He wasn't, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He was always grateful to have something to talk to her about, after all.

"Did you know that those trees are actually sakura trees?" he asked her, gesturing to the large, twisting trees lining the small park all round them. Sakura looked over to him, noticeably more piqued than before, and nodded. He might have said that she almost looked energetic, if he were so bold.

"Have you ever seen them in bloom?" he followed up.

Sakura hesitated, then shook her head slowly. She looked much more closed off now, like she was ashamed that she hadn't experienced Hanami herself. Shirou badly wanted to hug her, to make her feel better, but he knew she was still probably very uncomfortable with being touched, so he restrained himself.

It wasn't easy.

"Hey, don't feel bad," he tried to comfort her with his words, instead. "It only lasts for a week or so, anyways. A lot of people end up missing it, so don't worry about it too much."

Sakura turned her attention back towards the trees, seemingly unconvinced. Shirou held back a sigh. He didn't really know how to reassure her, unfortunately. She had always been slow to trust, and she was probably still taking his words with a heaping helpful of salt; still paranoid that he wanted something from her—something that he couldn't provide, or would lie about—just like everyone else who ever bothered to talk to her.

"Do you want to see it?" he asks, still feeling a bit awkward. "The sakura blossoms, I mean."

She turned to him, eyes attentive. She was still for a second or two, but eventually nodded, looking surer of herself than Shirou had seen her up to this point.

He smiled.

"I'd like to see them with you, one day."

Sakura stared back at him, her expression unreadable. He almost regretted offering, thinking that he had tried to force himself too far into her life too soon, but when she nodded again, accepting his offer, he could feel tears begin to well up in his eyes. That acceptance meant the world to him.

Shirou never was able to keep his promise to Sakura in his last life. He really didn't want to break it twice.

"I lost my memories when I was seven," he admitted to her, trying to keep his voice from wavering. As much as he wanted to move past it, to be able to make peace with that tragedy, he didn't think he ever would. The memories of that fire would probably always affect him. They had made him who he was; he doubted that he'd ever be able to free himself from their grip. "So I don't remember if I ever saw them when I was younger. But I would love to be able to see them with you."

He held out his hand to her, silently praying that she would take it.

She did.

Sakura slowly lifted up her hand and gently placed it in his, their palms just barely touching. Her grip was feather-light, and were he not looking at her hand, he might have been convinced that he actually was holding only a feather.

She sat there for a few seconds, still as a statue, but she eventually threw caution to the wind and held onto Shirou's hand like a lifeline. He scooted a bit closer to her, repositioning himself so that they could hold hands more comfortably, and she leaned into him as if she was trying to leech his warmth, still not saying a word.

She wore the smallest smile Shirou had ever seen.

But nonetheless, she was finally smiling.

Oh, he hated how that smile made him feel. She was still shackled to Zouken, trapped in a nightmarish scenario that she would never be able to escape from on her own. Matou Zouken had stolen her happiness, her innocence, the life from her very eyes. Sakura would waste away, slowly consumed by her own, personal parasite until there was nothing left, and Zouken would slip in and possess her empty husk of a body, younger and stronger than ever. And he still didn't know how to save her from that.

And yet, that little smile on her face still made him happier than anything.

He did his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind, and just enjoy the moment.

Eventually, Sakura shifted and pulled herself upright, smoothing out her hair as best she could before she had to get up. She stood and dusted off her skirt, brushing off the dirt from the bench and making herself look presentable as best she could, before bowing to him apologetically.

"I-I'm sorry, Shirou-san, but I have to go," she whispered, barely audible above the gently rustling leaves. "My grandfather wants me home soon."

He nodded, understanding. "Alright, I'm sorry I took up so much of your time."

Sakura's head snapped back up to meet his eyes. "N-no, it's fine! I enjoyed it," she protested earnestly.

Shirou smiled. "I'm glad you did. Hopefully, we can make something together sometime."

"…I'd like that," she admitted quietly. "Goodbye, Shirou-san."

As Sakura turned and began to walk away, he stopped her. "Wait."

She looked back at him blankly. He swallowed his nervousness.

"Your grandfather…" he trailed off, looking for the right words. "He's, uh, very strict, isn't he? He seems like he wants you home all the time."

Sakura froze up. He really hoped he hadn't exposed himself accidentally. If Zouken started listening in, he could end up in deep shit.

"…Yes," she answered.

"Here, hold on. I want you to memorize this," he told her, flipping open his phone and navigating through the menus to display his own phone number before turning it around and showing it to her. "It's my number. If you ever want to talk to me, but you can't leave the house, I want you to know that you can call me, okay?"

She stared at his phone for a long time, looking like she was trying to sear his phone number into her mind. "…Okay."

She nodded to him as soon as she had it memorized. He smiled brightly as he closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, before he, too, stood up and bowed to her.

"I hope to hear from you soon, Sakura. I'm really glad you're my friend," he told her as sincerely as he could.

She swallowed, and he could practically see whatever she was going to tell him slowly die in her throat. Instead, she simply thanked him again, told him goodbye and trudged off, not once looking back at him, her shoulders tense the entire time.

Shirou watched her wistfully until she disappeared around the bend.

He really hoped she would call him soon. She shouldn't have to deal with Zouken alone.

The nagging voice in his head whispering that he still couldn't save her persisted long after she had left.

As much as Shirou wanted to head straight to his workshop and work on his magic, he still needed to bring home the lunchbox he had given to Sakura. On top of that, the compound was still nowhere near repaired, and leaving dirty dishes lying around in a place like that was an excellent way to attract insects, and he was trying to keep those out for as long as he possibly could.

Maybe he could add some kind of insect repellant spell when he made the wards, if such a thing existed. He would probably have to ask Kotomine. Rin's teacher had studied a ton of magic, so if anyone would know, it would probably be him.

Shirou opened the door to his current home, announcing his presence as was customary, then headed towards the kitchen to wash out the empty container. Liz greeted him with a lazy wave as he passed by the TV, still dressed in clothes that Rin would have been absolutely mortified to be caught wearing in public. He said hello, doing his best to keep his eyes from straying to potentially dangerous areas, and slipped past her unobtrusively. Reaching the kitchen, he turned on the water, turned the faucet handle to hot and waited for the water to heat up as he pulled the bottle of dish soap and a sponge out from under the sink. Once the water reached a temperature he was satisfied with, he gave the bowl a quick rinse, a thorough wash and then rinsed it out again once it was spotless.

"Hey, Shirou."

Startled, he looked up from the sink. Liz was leaning over the counter, staring intently at him. He straightened up and set the container down on the counter, before giving her his full attention. The look on her face told him that whatever she had to say was important.

"Hi, Liz. Do you need help with something?" he greeted, smiling politely.

"Did you, uh, see Sella…like, this morning?" she asked, as if unsure how to broach the subject.

Shirou paused. He didn't know how much Liz knew about magic. For all he knew, Sella was the only one that had any clue that the Einzberns were mages, but it was equally likely that Liz was clued in, since she was a fully-fledged Homunculus, unlike Illya.

It was probably better to assume that she didn't know.

"Yeah. We talked this morning. She chewed me out for staying out later than I was supposed to last night," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

"Did she seem…okay? Did anything seem…off, about her?" Liz followed up.

Huh?

Shirou thought back to that morning. Sella had seemed tired, certainly, but he figured that that was because she was up really late waiting for him, and then fought him with a fairly heavy halberd. On top of only about six hours of sleep, that kind of night would exhaust anyone, in his mind. He had usually woken up late for school for similar reasons back in his world.

She never showed it, but Sakura had probably been annoyed at him, given how often she had to go out to his shed just to rouse him.

"Not really? She looked kinda tired, but she still seemed like Sella," he told her. He supposed he hadn't interacted with Sella all that much since he had reawakened, so perhaps he wasn't super familiar with her, but nothing about her behavior made him think she was behaving all that unusually.

"I see," Liz responded after a second. "Thank you for telling me."

"…Can I ask why you wanted to know?" Shirou broached hesitantly.

Liz nodded. "I woke up in the middle of the night. I could hear Sella from her room. I went to check on her, since it sounded like she was moving some of her belongings around. She had been crying, but she wouldn't tell me why. I don't think she got much sleep."

"Crying?" he repeated, shocked.

"Yes."

Shirou felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. He swallowed down the guilt that he could feel creeping up his throat like bile.

I'm such an idiot.

Of course Sella would be affected by the effective death of a family member! Her little brother had been ripped away from her and replaced by some imposter that she had never met before. Did it matter that he had the same origin or identity? His experiences were so different that he was practically a completely different person. He should have at least tried to give her some semblance of comfort, but he was too focused on trying to keep her from telling Kiritsugu to even notice how she felt!

He felt so fucking selfish.

It didn't matter if he had thrown away his dream, his pursuit of endless selflessness. He felt like he was back in the fire again, ignoring others to save himself.

"…Oh," he finally responded. "Thanks for telling me. I'll try to talk to her later."

"She's at the store right now. I would recommend waiting for a day or two before you talk to her, though. She likes to have some space whenever she feels sad."

Shirou nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

She gave him a lazy wave, turning around and heading back to the couch, intent on returning to her show.

He sighed, turning back to his half-dried dish, and grabbed a towel.

She'd definitely given him a lot to think about.

Illya had eventually wandered downstairs, and upon seeing Shirou, she had immediately grabbed his hand and demanded that he join her and Liz in watching magical girl anime. He had given little resistance, and had soon found himself on their couch with his precocious little sister snuggled up against him like a large teddy bear. Her eyes were glued to the screen as the bubblegum-pop opening chanted and cheered brightly, showing off all the overly cutesy characters waving their wands and sending beams of love and sparkles at their cartoonishly evil enemies, conquering the day with the power of friendship and love and all things pink.

He wondered what his Illya would think of these kinds of shows.

A pang of guilt stabbed at his chest. He felt terrible for thinking that. He was in a new world now, with a new family. His old world was beyond his reach; that door had been closed to him when he died. It wasn't fair to think of that world's Illya as his Illya when this world's Illya was right here.

He was still Emiya Shirou, and Illyasviel von Einzbern still needed him. Even if neither of them were the one that the other remembered.

He held his sister a little tighter.

After a couple of episodes, the distinct click of their front door caught Shirou's attention. He glanced over just in time to see the door slowly open, and Sella to back in, both arms full of groceries as she stepped inside the house and awkwardly tried to close the door behind her with her high heel.

"Hi, Sella!" Illya called out cheerfully, waving to her with the arm that wasn't wrapped around Shirou.

Sella turned towards them, a smile crossing her face. "Hi, Illya—"

She froze for a second, staring at Shirou. Some unrecognizable emotion crossed her face, just for a second, but she buried it beneath a smile and continued on like nothing happened.

"Hi, Shirou, Liz."

Illya's grip tightened around him. He glanced down. Her expression was quizzical; concerned. Tense.

Apparently, his little sister was more observant than he thought.

"Hi, Sella," he greeted her as if nothing was amiss. She nodded, the small, plastic smile still on her face as she walked over to the kitchen, intent on putting her groceries away.

"Do you need help with the groceries?" Shirou called out.

Sella set the groceries on the counter before she answered him.

"No, it's alright, you can stay there," she told him. "Illya would be mad at me if I made you get up, anyways."

He glanced down at his little sister, who seemed to be taking up more and more real estate on his chest by the minute, and sighed.

"Yeah, alright."

Sella smiled once again, a little more genuinely, and diligently restocked their pantry.

Shirou turned back to the TV, expecting Liz to resume the show, but nothing happened. He glanced over at Liz, who in turn pointed down at Illya, practically climbing on top of his chest and staring intently at him.

"What is it, Illya?" he asked.

"Why is Sella acting weird to you?" she whispered loudly.

He stopped. Shirou could feel Liz's eyes suddenly boring holes into the back of his head. He was lucky that Sella hadn't seemed to have heard his little sister, given that no reaction came from the kitchen, but he'd probably have to talk to Liz about it later.

Sella, too, but he already planned to do that.

"Sella's just mad at me," he explained, not really sure if he was actually right. "I stayed out really late last night, and she wasn't happy about it, so I'm kind of in trouble, now. She'll probably make me do extra chores tomorrow."

"Oh," Illya murmured. "You should say sorry, Onii-chan. That way Sella won't be mad at you anymore."

He smiled wanly. "Unfortunately, I don't think saying sorry will help her feel any better."

"Why not?" she asked, wide-eyed, as if she had never even considered the thought that saying sorry didn't fix everything.

She probably hadn't, now that he thought about it.

"Sometimes saying sorry doesn't make people's feelings go away. They'll still feel mad, or sad, or both, and an apology can't always fix that," he tried to explain.

"Hmm…" Illya contemplated, scrunching up her face in a manner that was probably meant to be serious, but ended up just looking childishly adorable.

He could practically see the little cogs turning in her head.

Illya looked up at him, her face childishly determined, as if the weight of the world had been set upon her little shoulders. "Get her chocolate," she declared imperiously, hands on her hips, looking as if she had solved some great conflict. "Chocolate always makes people feel better."

"Does it now?" Shirou asked, humoring her.

"Mhm!" she nodded, clearly sure of herself.

"How do you know?"

Illya paused.

"Well, it always makes me feel better."

Liz snorted.

Shirou patted his sister's head softly as she leaned even further into his touch. He could feel an amused smile crawl up his face, despite himself. It was good to see that she was still Illya, through and through, even if she wasn't the one he knew.

"Dinner will be on the table soon, so don't get too wrapped up in your show!" Sella called out to them from the kitchen.

"Okay!" Illya responded cheerfully.

Shirou suppressed a sigh. Immature or not, Illya was still correct. He would have to talk to Sella soon. If she was hiding her distress from him, it could seriously affect their relationship in the long term.

Perhaps it was hypocritical of him, but he didn't want her to have to hide her feelings from him. He had bared his story to her, and she had agreed to help him, so Shirou felt it was only polite to return the favor.

I'll talk to her tonight.

He leaned back and continued to watch the TV; his family curled up in his arms.

After he tucked Illya into bed, Shirou slipped quietly down the stairs and crept over to Sella's room. The downstairs was a lot more open than upstairs, so sound traveled much more easily downstairs. He would have to be quiet, not only so that Illya wouldn't wake up, but so that Liz couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation. Her room was right next to Sella's, after all, and he didn't know how thick their walls were.

Shirou knocked on the door four times, as loudly as he dared, hoping that Sella had not already fallen asleep. He waited a few seconds, pressing his ear to the door, and only pulled his head away once he heard faint shuffling noises from the other side of the door. A few seconds later, Sella's door silently swung open, revealing the homunculus in black-and-white plaid pajamas, exhaustion thick in her eyes.

"Shirou," she greeted tonelessly.

"Sella," he greeted in return. "Can we talk?"

"…Sure," she acquiesced, glancing over to Liz's room. "How private does this need to be?"

"Preferably just between us."

Sella nodded and stepped aside, inviting him into her room with a wave of her arm.

Sella's room was rather spartan, and incredibly organized. A few family photos were on the nightstand as keepsakes, and one large, plush sofa chair sat in the opposite corner, next to a small table that she presumably did her sewing on, given the spools of yarn stacked neatly on its back end.

"I apologize for having only a single chair. Would it be better this discussion were had in the kitchen?" she asked.

Shirou shook his head, waving her off. "It's fine."

"Very well. What did you wish to talk about, then?" Sella prompted.

"Liz mentioned that you were crying last night."

She paused. He tried to hold back his grimace, but probably failed.

Way to go, Shirou. Just stick your foot directly in your mouth.

"Sorry, that came out poorly," he apologized.

"Indeed," she intoned flatly.

Shirou sighed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to say that I understand it's my fault, and I'm sorry for making you cry. I don't want you to feel bad, even if there isn't anything I can do to fix it."

"I understand that the situation is not your fault, Shirou. I have accepted that," she responded, a bit terse.

"Yes, I get that, but—ugh," he trailed off, trying and failing to get his point across. "I just want you to know that I'm really grateful for everything that you're doing for me, even though I'm not the Shirou you remember, and I want to let you know that I want to return the favor, so if there's anything you ever need from me, even if it's just someone to yell at or vent your frustrations, I'm willing to help out.

"I know I'm not your Shirou, but I still want to be someone you can count on. I won't ask that you just immediately accept me as your family, but I'm still Emiya Shirou, and I consider anyone that's a part of Emiya Kiritsugu's family as my family, and I want to make sure that my family is safe and happy, no matter what. And that includes you, Sella," he finished. "Is…is that okay?"

Sella swallowed, staring him deeply in the eyes, before nodding hesitantly.

"Okay."

He smiled, offering his arms out to her. "Neither of us should have to deal with this on our own. We're in this together, now."

She stepped closer, embracing him in a soft hug. "It seems you really are still Shirou," she gave him a watery smile.

"I hope so," he smiled back nervously. "I don't know how to be anyone else."

Sella choked out a laugh.

"I suppose not."

For just a brief moment, everything felt right.

"I'll have you know, since you're older, I expect you to help out around the house more," she murmured into his ear, still holding him gently.

Shirou nodded against her cheek. "That's fine."

"Good."

Sella released him, and he stepped back a little, so that he wouldn't be in the way of her door if she decided to close it on him. She gave him another smile, though it was slightly more strained than the last. Concern welled up inside him again.

"Are you…will you be okay?" he asked, still worried.

She nodded. "Eventually. I'll likely be grieving for the next few days, but I'll recover."

"Even…" Shirou forced the words out through the guilt coagulating in his throat. "Even if it's my fault that your Shirou's gone?"

"Even then," she smiled comfortingly. "I may have lost a brother, but I've gained another." She placed a hand on his cheek, running over his cheekbone with her thumb softly. "And I know you'll do us all proud."

Shirou smiled, swallowing down his guilt, his feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness, and thanked her sincerely.

"It's no trouble, Shirou," she told him. "Now, I'm going to head to bed. Are you planning on heading out tonight?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I have to go practice. I'll probably be out a lot late at night, or after work, but I'll be around long enough to do my chores and schoolwork and stuff."

"You're going to practice magecraft tonight? Even after your fight yesterday?" she asked incredulously. "That doesn't sound good for you, Shirou. You need to take breaks; you'll burn yourself out otherwise."

Shirou shook his head. "Sorry, I can't do that. Every day I don't practice is a day Sakura has to suffer needlessly. I can't let that happen."

"…Alright. I still don't think that it's healthy, but I won't stop you," Sella relented. Shirou smiled in gratitude, and they hugged once more.

"Come home safe," she told him.

"I will," he promised.

She bid him good night and closed the door, and Shirou slipped off into the night, making his way towards his other home, praying all the while that he would never have to break that promise.

He already abandoned one family. He couldn't afford to do that to another.

Shirou had set a timer in his shed so that he would remember to go back home and not fall back into his old habits again. He was pretty sure that by his teens, he was sleeping in his shed more than in his bed, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of his mana saturating the air was comforting in a way that little else was. It never failed to put him just a bit more at ease, even when that mana changed due to the addition of Archer's magic circuits. He never used Archer's arm for his daily practice, but just having it attached to him made the scent of his mana more weathered, like bloodied steel that had seen heavy usage on the battlefield; steel that had braved powerful sandstorms and great clashes to survive up to this point.

He tried to ignore Archer's cynical voice, whispering in the back of his mind that he actually slept in the shed so often because he felt useless if he didn't overwork himself every night.

Nonetheless, he kept practicing.

It was late into the night that Shirou's projection practice was interrupted. The scent of ash and cologne alerted him to a trespasser on his property. Whoever it was hadn't bothered to attempt to hide themselves, either, given he could smell them from all the way inside his shed. He was rather glad they had decided to announce their presence, though, since there were still no wards around the property.

Shirou still was unsure as to how to rectify that issue. If Zouken ever found out how exposed Shirou was, he would have a field day.

He slipped out of the shed, doing his best to keep out of sight, but it seemed there was no need. Whoever had walked onto his property was currently preoccupied in analyzing the state of his home. If he were a betting man, then he would have guessed that his uninvited guest knew exactly how bad of a state his home was in, even in the dim starlight, and only kept staring because he was wondering who the hell would voluntarily live in such filth, other than perhaps a Sealing Designee.

He supposed that it wasn't too far off. The Magus' Association would almost certainly slap one on him if they ever found out about his magecraft.

Deciding not to waste any more time, Shirou slipped behind the evidently tall, broad-shouldered man and spoke up.

"The house is a work in progress."

"Evidently," the man drawled, more composed than Shirou thought he would be.

The man turned around, pinning him with glinting, aquamarine eyes that were far too familiar. He was dressed sharply, in a suit that probably cost more than all of his clothes combined. His hair was neatly cut, in a style that brought extra attention to his eyes.

It was his unimpressed stare that really made him seem really familiar, though.

"You must be Shirou-kun," the man scratched at his finely trimmed beard. "My student mentioned that you were a rather talented fighter. I did not expect you to be so young, admittedly. He spoke as if you were rather experienced."

"Your student?" he asked.

"My student," the older gentleman confirmed, buffing his nails on his expensive-looking burgundy blazer. "Kotomine Kirei."

Fuck.

He knew he recognized those eyes. Rin had mentioned that she had been left in Kotomine's care, but he hadn't made the connection until now. Kotomine had to have been made her godfather somehow, after all.

"Let me introduce myself," Rin's father began, stepping forward.

"I am Tohsaka Tokiomi, head of the Tohsaka family and Second Owner of Fuyuki. I was told you had important information to give me."