First Night (3)

Shirou Emiya had long ago learned to consider himself a tool, a precision instrument meant for one thing in life and one thing only...to fulfill his savior's ambition, to save his last remaining family member and keep her safe. Keep her happy.

He had never fretted over keeping Illyasviel von Eonzbern safe. That was what Kiritsugu had trained and crafted him to do. Eliminating enemies and threats was something simple, in his mind. An action only slightly more complicated than walking or breathing.

He had always worried if he could keep her happy, however. Happiness was...an abstract. A word that described a particular emotion that meant so many different things that it was honestly daunting.

Shirou was a man of purpose, of predestined pathways that would be followed without failure.

School, naturally, had left him feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable and out of his depth.

He already knew what he was going to do with his life, seeing so many other people his age flounder and ponder over what calling drew their interest was actively alarming and distressing.

How did people wake up and function in the morning, not knowing what they were? Wasn't it frightening for them, to not have an ultimate purpose? To just wander through life hoping one would find them?

He knew what he was.

He was a sword, an instrument of his father's last will.

...Perhaps that's why he found some measure of social common ground with people like Issei and Rin. They both knew what their callings in life were and actively worked towards it, a facet of personality he resonated with.

Although it never ceased to bemuse him how Issei seemed so actively hostile to Tohsaka. Shouldn't two people pursuing their own life goals be in accord, understand the drive that inspired the other?

More vagaries of social interaction that alluded him, he supposed.

Even more confusing was Issei's indignation about Shirou constantly repairing appliances around the school. He was a tool and tools were meant to expedite and make simple a task that was previously difficult.

If something within the school was broken a company that could repair said appliance would need to be called and they would need to be compensated whenever they actually arrived.

He could fix the machinery for free and within minutes, it was pure common sense.

And Kiritsugu had always impressed upon him the need for public masks and charades, to appear as one thing while actually being another. Playing the part of a 'samaritan' seemed a worthwhile deception.

And thus the days, weeks, months and then years had carried on, Shirou gradually and slowly finalizing Kiritsugu's plans to free Illya-

-and then she had appeared out of nowhere, directly in front of him.

Shirou, for the first time in as long as he could remember, was unsure of what to do or say as he gazed upon his purpose of being, laid out along the concrete with a surprised expression on her fair features.

Kiritsugu had shown him pictures of Illya, certainly...but that had been when she was still a small child, his savior being unsure of how old she would actually be.

The young woman before him was on the cusp of what he recognized as womanly maturity, but still...aesthetically pleasing? Beautiful?

He had never been very good at describing or recognizing things that pleased him, always viewing events through the lens of pros and cons...but as his eye traced her quivering lip, embarrassed flush and blinking red eyes with pale hair lightly splayed across the road?

He could admit to himself that the sight was...vindicating. That it brought him some measure of satisfaction to finally see the girl he was supposed to protect with his life, and that it was pleasing to do so.

And now that very same girl who he quickly found himself enjoying to watch-a fairly foreign concept to him, seeing as how he found most people to be tiresome or directionless after some length of observation-slowly sat at the dinner table, face not revealing any hints of emotion.

Much like his.

"You read what he left for you?"

A wordless nod from the Homunculus.

"Not all of it...but some."

"Did Oto-san talk about where he has a plan to keep your body intact even beyond the Grail War?"

Some confusion entered her expression as she warily replied, "No...he mentioned that but I didn't read the details."

"Why don't you have something to eat and then I'll show you?"

Setting the simple dish of Teriyaki Salmon in front of the Homunculus alongside a fork and knife-he doubted she was familiar with chopsticks-he stepped back to observe her reaction, the girl warily eating a piece of the fish with clear hesitation...and she froze, eyes wide.

Shirou frowned, a minute tightening of expression the only visible sign of his concern.

"Is it not to your liking? Sorry, Japanese cuisine is likely different from what you're used to-"

"No! Err, I mean...it's really good, Onii-chan."

Shirou wasn't sure what it was about the sight of the girl enthusiastically tearing into his cooking with grace and efficiency in equal measure...but he felt the muscles in his mouth twitch with some outside influence he had no control over.

Ah, right. Smiling. Issei and Rin had always told him he should smile more, maybe he could start doing that now?

Carefully dabbling at her chin Ilya seemed to regain some sense of propriety, staring at him with a once more inscrutable expression.

"Why are you so good at cooking?"

He could only shrug.

"All I do is follow recipes. Everyone says I'm a good cook but I only copy others."

Tilting her head in a curious manner-a mannerism that caused an odd lurch in Shirou's stomach that he was confused by-Ilya asked, "You copy others...of course..."

The red-haired man was yet again unsure of what she meant by that but was given no opportunity to clarify the matter as she suddenly stood, fixing him with a gaze of intensity as she demanded, "Show me what...what Papa did. Because apparently he did a lot of things..."

The last bit was mumbled and barely audible but Shirou heard it anyway, electing not to comment as he set the dishes in the sink, calmly replying, "Alright, follow me."

Quickly falling in behind him Shirou lead the Homunculus to the house's garage, leading her over to a vehicle that had Ilya's brow furrowing in confusion.

"Is that a...motorcycle?"

"It is. An old MT 250 Elsinore that I fixed and made better using magecraft. The local yakuza appreciate the mechanic work I do for them on occasion and gave me it as a present."

He grabbed the keys and a spare helmet...only to find his charge staring at him with wary gaze.

"Onii-chan...are you a gangster?"

Shirou blinked a few times.

"I don't think so? Does doing work for them make me a gangster?"

It was Ilya's turn to blink a few times.

"I...don't know? And why did you use magecraft on a motorcycle?"

"Because it makes it more efficient, reliable and fast?"

The two step-siblings shared a moment of perplexed bemusement, completely at a loss at each others quirks.

Ilya decided to let the matter rest and silently replaced her hat with her helmet, hesitating before asking, "Onii-chan? How do I, erm...ride this?"

Smoothly straddling the bike's seat Shirou calmly explained, "Hop on behind me and hold tight, it's not a far drive."

Briefly hesitating Ilya quickly found her nerve and strode forward, doing as her brother suggested and wrapping her arms around the young man's waist-

-before promptly blushing as even through his jacket and shirt Ilya felt the, ahem...toned definition of Shirou's body.

Not that she had time to focus on that particular facet of interaction as the male kicked on the bike's engine and quickly drove out into the streets, the Homunculus marveling at the fast moving sights as the vehicle seemed to effortlessly flow past the few other cars out this late at night, the noise...actually quieter than she thought it would be, perhaps one of the modifications he had made with magecraft?

Even that idle bit of contemplation faded as she instead leant her head against her step-sibling's back, watching the streetlights, homes and signs flash by in quick succession like some fascinating light show.

She had never suspected that something so...mundane would be so intriguing. Was this what life outside of the Einzbern castle was like? All lights, colors, and the rush of cool wind? Sights and buildings rushing by in a kaleidoscope of mixed images that left her mind pondering the significance and purpose of each and every one of them, of the story and history that no doubt belonged to all?

She wished the ride would never end.

But eventually they came to a stop at a nondescript storefront or warehouse, nestled in between what looked like a market and hotel.

Without comment Shirou parked the bike and confidently lead her through a locked door that he used some manner of magecraft she didn't recognize to slide open, followed by a brief descent on some stairs that creaked and groaned at their combined weight, yet another door being slid open-

-and Illya couldn't help but release an audible gasp at the sigh that greeted her.

Three tanks containing odd, glowing fluid with three Human bodies calmly floating within them, eyes closed and no excess movement visible.

...Three bodies that looked like her, all at varying ages. Once seemed perhaps a year older than her current form, another a young adult and the last a mature woman, all sporting white hair and red eyes.

"How...how..."

Gently setting a hand on her back and guiding her in front of the tanks Shirou explained, "Oto-san suspected the Einzberns would only keep your body functional long enough to survive out the Grail, is that true?"

Illya slowly nodded.

"Good, then this wasn't a waste, getting all these bodies for you."

The Homunculus froze, mind screeching to a halt.

They...Papa had done all of this...and he hadn't even been certain?

"Onii-chan? How...how did you and Papa make these? Homunculi like me aren't all that easy to create."

Even as she feared the answer Ilya had to know. This...there was no way this had been cheap.

"Well we couldn't go to the Einzberns so Oto-san contacted Atlas and brokered a deal with them instead, using some of your blood and hair that he set aside just in case of a situation like this one as a base."

"W-with Atlas?! But they don't allow their creations into the outside world!"

"That's what Oto-san said, but there's a loophole. You already exist and these are your bodies. So Atlas didn't technically create something that couldn't leave their institute. And the payment was enough that they probably would have broken the rules anyway."

Almost afraid to ask Ilya swallowed nervously.

"What was the payment?"

"Oto-san's body-minus his magic crest-and Avalon."

Illya felt her knees go weak, distant memories-now provided context-springing to the forefront of her mind.

"The catalyst for Saber-san that Mama and Papa summoned...King Arthur. It was Avalon and...and..."

"It was how he saved me, you know. I was dying from the fire caused by the corrupted Grail and Oto-san implanted Avalon within me. It was after he transferred his magic crest and it properly took that we gave Avalon to Atlas. Combined with his body-still bearing the remnants of Angra Mainyu's curse-it was a fair exchange."

Shirou fell silent, glanced towards the girl he was supposed to save-

-and was instantly at her side as she collapsed, eyes wide and staring at the three tubes.

"Illya? Illyasviel? Are you alright-"

"No. No I'm not alright, Onii-chan."

Shirou suddenly felt very afraid and very helpless as tears gathered in the corner's of the girl's eyes.

That...he did not know how to fight.

"Papa gave away a priceless artifact and his body because I might have needed a replacement one. If I even survived the war in the first place. He gave you a magic crest you weren't suited to inherit-and I still don't know how you're alive, Avalon or not-and taught you to...to be like you are now."

A shuddering breath wracked her small frame as Shirou dithered nearby.

"I read some of what he did to you...but this...all this, just for me?"

An open sob left her, a disturbing smile twisting her lips into a hideous caricature of joyful expression.

"Onii-chan? Do you know what I felt when I heard Papa died? I was angry. Angry because he died before I got to inflict him with the same pain and loss he abandoned me to. I wanted to tear off his skin, kill you in front of him and laugh."

Tears now freely dropped to the floor, her voice tight and trembling.

"I...I'm such a bad girl. A bad, spiteful, awful awful little girl. Papa was doing so much, Papa loved me and died painfully with regrets and I...all I ever wanted to do was hurt him, even thought he was already hurting so much already."

Something like a choked sob or cry left the Homunculus.

"I don't deserve this...I should just die and end it all since I'm so rotten-"

"No."

Ilya jerked, briefly forgetting that Shirou was still nearby, his eyes focused like a bird of preys and expression even more grave than usual.

"I'll be the first to admit that I'm not 'normal' and that I don't fully understand the vagaries of emotions...but Oto-san never once despised you and only wanted the best for you, Illya. He wanted you to live and to be happy. He always told me that, told me that it was what I would be raised and trained for...so, please. Don't let either of our dreams die. Live, or find something to live for."

Crimson orbs streaked with tears met resolute yet apathetic ones, both holding the other's gaze...and Illya broke first, furiously wiping her tears away and taking several shallow, quick breaths before regaining a measure of control, the buried and admittedly stunted Human side of Shirou briefly surfacing as he hesitantly placed a hand on her back.

"...It's been a long night. You should sleep, we can discuss things tomorrow."

Nodding wordlessly the Homunculus slowly rose to her feet, still dragging her coat's sleeve across her face, sniffling now and again.

But as they left the room, Shirou sealing it behind them Illya regained some small measure of her resolve.

"I promise, Papa...I promise I'll try. And maybe, once everything is over...I can meet you and Mama again with my head held high."