The rain and chill that autumn afternoon kept most people out of the Mount Miyama shopping district, which meant the izakaya down the little alley had even fewer afternoon diners than usual. It didn't bother Archer, though. Paying the bills was the responsibility of the golden-haired boy who owned the establishment. All he had to do was take care of the customers.
That afternoon, he occupied himself setting up some more time-consuming tasty treats for the regulars he knew he'd be getting that evening. No matter the weather, some of them always showed up. But to his surprise, Shirou, his waiter and unwelcome apprentice was too restless to attach himself to Archer's elbow to observe. He kept ranging to the door and looking through the narrow windows before turning away again to attend to their few customers.
So when the door jangled open and a family party poured into the izakaya calling for Shirou, Archer wasn't really surprised. The waiter gave him a furtive look before trying to calm down the group of his… friends? family? Archer found he wasn't sure. There were two extremely attractive blonde women and three young girls, and none of them seemed to have a family resemblance to either Shirou or each other.
No, that wasn't true, Archer realized as umbrellas were leaned against the wall and raincoats doffed. Two of the little girls looked like sisters, although admittedly sisters who'd spent vastly different amounts of time in the summer sun.
"Shirou! So this is where you work? What a nice establishment!" said the blonde woman with drill curls and a foreign accent. She gave Shirou a smile that was distinctly unsisterly as he pulled out a chair for her. But the smile Shirou returned was strained, and after he'd seated the whole party, he came to Archer with an embarrassed expression.
"I didn't really think they'd all come, sir. I'm sorry."
Archer raised an eyebrow. "All?"
Shirou's shoulders hunched a little and he muttered, "I guess it could be worse." His gaze went distant and then he shivered, as if he contemplated some deeper horror.
His embarrassment convinced Archer. As he filled mugs with beer for the adults and juice for the kids, he asked casually, "Your family?"
With a sideways glance at the group, Shirou said, "Sort of? It gets a little complicated." With a little shrug, he picked up the tray of snacks and drinks Archer had prepared and delivered them back to the big table.
Archer leaned against the counter, watching curiously. If he had a family of his own, he didn't remember it, and such groups were uncommon visitors to the izakaya. The taller blonde woman was very quiet, although she seemed responsive to the needs of the children. Shirou was most attentive to the dark-haired child, while the shorter, louder blonde woman was obviously the leader of the group. The sisters—were they twins? They argued about almost everything, with the darker one constantly teasing her more serious-minded sister.
It wasn't until Shirou said, "Boss? What are we giving them to eat?" that Archer realized he'd been staring at the family for far longer than he'd intended.
No. Not at the family. At the darker twin.
His skin prickling, Archer shook himself and turned to his stove to finish the prep of the fried tofu and yakitori. But his hands moved out of habit, without his usual focus on his work. He kept seeing that little form smirking at her sister in his mind's eye.
He pushed it away, tried to focus on the food again. But every time she spoke, he heard her. Her name was Kuro, and her sister was Illya. Illya was an ordinary girl: cute, as little girls were cute. But Kuro had an edge to her, like part of her was a knife. He wanted to get closer to her to try and understand why—
God, what was wrong with him? She was a little girl. If he was going to be dwelling on any of the guests, it ought to be the tall, quiet blonde, who had pretty much everything a man could want with sprinkles on top.
A piece of the fried tofu fell from his spider skimmer back into the pan and boiling oil splashed his hand. He winced, biting back his more severe reaction to the pain, and then grimly finished plating the food.
"You okay, boss?" asked Shirou as he arranged the plates so he could pick them all up, his gaze going to Archer's burned hand.
Archer opened his mouth to say he was fine; he'd had plenty of burns, and it was what any cook deserved for inattention—and then he caught sight of Kuro looking at him over Shirou's shoulder. Her dark-ringed golden eyes met his and the pull he felt toward her stole his breath away.
A cold sweat broke out along his brow and nausea twisted his stomach. Abruptly he stripped off his apron and slid it onto the counter as he said, "Actually, I'm not. I need a walk. You're in charge, kid." Then, his head low so he couldn't accidentally look at her again, he made his way out into the rainy afternoon.
The clouds were resting between downpours, currently providing just enough of a drizzle so that nobody got the wrong idea about what kind of day it was. Archer walked aimlessly for a moment, licking his burn absently as he tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with him. This wasn't like him…
…was it?
How could he know? He had no idea who he was, or where he'd come from. He only knew that he was Archer, that he hadn't always been in Fuyuki, and that the kid called Gil had hired him to manage his izakaya. Where he'd been before this year, who he'd cared for, what he'd liked and disliked: it was all a blank to him. He'd wanted to recover what he'd lost, but for the first time it occurred to him that maybe that veil hid nightmares.
She'd looked at him curiously, as if she'd noticed his stare.
Archer sped up, hurrying past little knots of rain-coated pedestrians. He passed by the florist's shop where Lancer worked, and half-noticed him presenting a rose to an alarmed-looking woman in a black suit, while another woman, white-haired, with an umbrella, giggled behind her fingers.
Lancer noticed him and called, "Archer?" but Archer shook his head and kept going. Lancer was a patron, and one of those with envelopes, but not somebody Archer wanted to talk to right now.
Instead he kept going, moving in a ground-eating lope that wasn't quite a run until he reached the antique shop where Rider worked. He burst through the door so quickly that he startled the lavender-haired woman into splashing the tea she'd been about to sip onto her book.
"Archer!" said Rider, her eyes wide with surprise. She glanced down at her stained book and then up at Archer again. He stalked past old armoires and vintage lamps to her desk and after a tiny hesitation, she shoved some receipts into the book and closed it. "What's wrong?"
Squeezing his eyes shut, he saw Kuro and then opened them again, staring at the scarred and stained surface of the non-vintage desk. "Rider, I need you to tell me what's wrong with me."
After a moment, Rider said, "Okay. I'm going to let the opportunity for a joke slide on by, because you're clearly upset. What happened?"
He glanced up and she adjusted her glasses, waiting patiently. "This kid came into the izakaya and…" He wondered how to explain it so it didn't sound bad, and then wondered why he would even try to do that. "I can't stop looking at her, or thinking about her."
A flicker of doubt came into Rider's eyes and Archer realized he'd failed a crucial part of the explanation. He held his hand out at his waist. "When I say a kid, I mean ten, eleven. She's like this tall," and gave Rider another look, silently pleading for her comprehension.
Rider let out her breath slowly. "I see." She was silent for a moment.
Archer shifted his weight, waiting for her judgement. He'd known Rider almost as long as he'd been running the izakaya. They were the oldest of friends by his standards, and he thought by hers as well. She was also the most regular of his patrons. If he'd been willing to wait, he could have talked about this with her that evening.
But waiting would have made everything worse. He couldn't trust himself, but he trusted Rider. She read constantly. She'd know what was going on.
"Can you tell me anything about her?" asked Rider finally.
Archer lowered his eyes, staring at the whitening burn on the back of his hand. "More than I should be able to. Her name's Kuro. She's got a twin sister—who I don't give a damn about, by the way. She's…" He stopped, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This isn't about her. She's just a kid. This is about something being wrong with me."
"All right," said Rider. "Tell me about you, then. Tell me how she makes you feel."
He gave her an agonized look. Her own gaze was remote, even merciless, and that made him feel a little better. If something was wrong with him, she wouldn't be blinded by their friendship. "I keep wanting to get closer to her. I keep thinking about how she moves. It's like I know her…"
Rider placed her palms flat on the desk. "Do you enjoy looking at her?"
He shuddered, and she caught his injured hand, cupping her palm over his burn. "I'm serious, Archer. Don't panic, think. Do you enjoy looking at this girl?"
And for the first time since he'd realized his abrupt obsession, he took a mental step back and analyzed his own reaction. Slowly, he said, "Not… not like I enjoy looking at… certain other people. But I do want to look at her more. No… that's not right."
He met Rider's gaze again. "It hurts to look at her, but… like she's something I want that's beyond my reach." He shivered again, hearing his own words.
Intently, Rider said, "Like it might hurt to look at something you've lost? A yearning?"
"I don't know. Sure, I guess." He pulled his hand away from Rider's and put it over his face.
A note of gentleness crept into Rider's voice as she said, "Archer, has it occurred to you that you simply may have known her before? Perhaps she's connected to whomever you used to be."
Archer's brows drew together and he lowered his hand to stare at Rider. But no, that didn't work. "She's a twin, Rider. If I knew her, I must have known her sister, too. But I don't feel the same way. Her sister is just a kid. If she didn't look like Kuro, I wouldn't recognize her on the street."
"Hmm," said Rider. "Not necessarily." She gave him a little smile. "Outside of cooking, you've got a pretty limited imagination, Archer."
While he was deciding whether that was an insult or a compliment, she leaned down to pick up her bag and slid her book into it. Then she stood up.
"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.
"Closing early. You're the third person who's come in all day. I'll come back with you to the izakaya and see what I can figure out there."
Gratitude and affection washed over Archer, so strong he almost leaned over the desk to kiss Rider (who was definitely one of the people he enjoyed looking at, way more than any blonde). He barely stopped himself, and only because old friends were hard to find. But the urge was so strong, so adult, so distinct from how Kuro made him feel that relief surged through him, too.
"Thank you," he said instead as she came around the desk. "I'd offer you drinks on the house, but…" He shrugged wryly.
Rider looked like she was about to say something, but then she shook her head. "I'm happy to help. I just hope I can."
He held the door for her and waited as she locked up. Rider glanced up at the drizzling sky and then opened an umbrella large enough to share with Archer. They walked together back down the main road of Mount Miyama, Rider's long legs easily keeping up with Archer's own ground-eating stride. As they passed Lancer's florist shop, Archer noticed his eyes widen and then narrow speculatively and knew he'd be needing some kind of explanation later that night.
He opened the door to the izakaya preparing for the worst. But nothing had burned, including the building, which seemed like the best he could hope for. The desperate look Shirou threw him was also gratifying, and he focused on that as he headed behind the bar to take control of the kitchen again, leaving Rider to her own devices.
Shirou hissed, "Here! Take over!" and shoved the skimmer at Archer. At first Archer couldn't see what he was so panicked by—everything seemed to be going well—but then Shirou added, "The girls were about to start trying to wait tables."
He raced out of the kitchen over to the big table where he reseated the the little girls who'd been fluttering around it holding plates and giggling. Then Kuro cast another glance at Archer: half-amused, half-apprehensive, and entirely too aware of him and he turned determinedly back to the cooking.
When he glanced over a little later, as he took another order from Shirou, he saw that Rider had seated herself at the little table beside the group instead of at her usual spot. She sat right next to the tall blonde, but she was effortlessly talking with Illya, her head tilted appealingly as she encouraged the children to tell her about themselves.
Once again, an affectionate warmth for the woman swept over Archer. Definitely drinks forever, on him, and since the owner had already made that unnecessary, maybe a special meal just for her.
Maybe breakfast?
He shoved that thought away and concentrated instead on finding some expensive tuna he'd stored in the freezer for a special occasion. Rider had always seemed fond of fish, and this was the very best he could offer her.
As the afternoon waned, Archer overheard Shirou finally convincing his noisy family to move on so as not to interfere with the 'real' customers. He stalwartly refused to look over his shoulder until he heard the door slam behind them, cutting off the constant flow of feminine voices. A moment later, Rider said behind him, "Well, that was interesting."
She sat at the bar as he turned around to present her with a plate of tuna sashimi. With a little smile, she tried a piece and her eyebrows went up. "Archer, this is the good stuff."
Archer shrugged. "Glad you like it." He eyed Shirou as he carried dirty dishes into the back, and then leaned forward to ask softly, "What did you think?"
"Mmm," said Rider. "Nice kids. Illya's the normal one, Miyu reminds me of myself, and Kuro…" Rider trailed off, eating another piece of sashimi. "She reminds me of you, Archer. You weren't imagining that. This is really good, by the way." She ate a third piece.
"How is she like me?" asked Archer intently. For a moment even looking at Rider's face couldn't stop the image of Kuro's eyes from dancing before him.
Rider thought for a moment and tapped the plate. "Not like this. Like those." She waved a hand at the posters of various legendary edged weapons Archer had decorated the izakaya with. "You're a great cook, but when you start getting fancy with your knives, you're something else."
"But she didn't have a knife," protested Archer uncomfortably.
With a sigh, Rider said, "I know. It's just a feeling I had. And something in her eyes. She's gone through things her twin never has." She paused, and then said, "Look, I don't think you need to worry about yourself. There really is some mystery about the girl." Her cheeks reddened unexpectedly. "And I have Angelica's phone number. We talked about getting coffee sometime. I'll try to bring her by here afterwards."
"Is that the tall one?" asked Archer, surprised. "She seemed quiet."
"She is," said Rider. "But I like her."
Archer nodded slowly. "All right. Thank you. Want some more tuna?"
Rider's eyes brightened, and suddenly Archer felt better about his whole day. "I shouldn't… but yes, please."
After he prepared another serving for her, Rider took the plate and went to her usual table, and it became just another evening at the izakaya. Caster and Taiga came in like they usually did this time of the week, but Taiga grabbed Saber as soon as she arrived, pulling her into a huddle with Caster.
Still later, Lancer arrived. He sat by himself for about half an hour, eating a proper meal in an unusually thoughtful silence, before rising to his feet to drag an extra chair over to the women's huddle. Whatever they'd been apparently talking about hadn't been too private, because Taiga welcomed him enthusiastically, calling for more beer for her best beer buddy.
Still later, Other Saber came in, which was a bit unusual. Ever since Caster had started coming to the izakaya, Other Saber had been occasionally skipping nights, always when Caster was present. Archer had the vague idea that he was trying to give her a break from his presence, since she always seemed a little more irritable when he was around, even if they rarely interacted before closing time.
Even more unusually, Other Saber was already on the far side of tipsy when he seated himself at the bar and snagged a dish of salted edamame. He moved steadily, but his eyes were wide as they only ever became after an evening of serious drinking. Archer studied him thoughtfully and then filled a mug with the lowest-alcohol brew he had. "How've you been, Saber?"
"Terrible," said Other Saber quietly. He stared off into space as he nibbled his edamame, and then gulped at his beer. The face he made at the mug made Archer self-conscious but not the least bit guilty. Other Saber had enough problems without getting falling-down drunk while Caster was around.
When, a little bit later he slid a stack of bacon sandwiches over to Other Saber, the indigo-haired man tried to give him a grateful smile that fell short of the 'smile' part.
"Got something on your mind?" inquired Archer, wiping down the bar.
Other Saber finished his beer. "Just trying to figure out how to tell Caster I lost another part-time job. I can see it now. She's going to look at me in that icy way and ask me if I'm losing jobs on purpose so I don't have to move out."
Archer considered this and then, raising an eyebrow, said, "Are you?"
"What the hell, Archer? No, I'm not!" He hesitated. "I mean… I'd rather not move out. I'm fine with the tent. But it'd be nice to… be appreciated sometimes." He fell silent, brooding, occasionally looking over his shoulder at Caster's table. She'd adjusted her chair so her back was to him, but Archer had noticed she was now facing one of the reflective glass-covered pictures on the wall.
Finally Archer asked, "Why do you keep losing jobs anyhow? You can't be any worse a worker than Lancer and he's holding down three last time I checked."
Other Saber's mouth twisted bitterly. "You'll laugh." He winced as Taiga did just that in response to something Caster murmured.
Archer gave him a wary look. "Is it funny?"
"Nah. It's stupid. Weird and stupid." Other Saber sighed, and Archer heard himself hesitating to talk to Rider in that sigh.
He hesitated, and then filled a tumbler with ice and shochu and slid it over to Other Saber. "I won't laugh."
"You'd better not." He drank half the shochu at once.
"I won't," said Archer patiently.
Other Saber eyed him before his shoulders slumped. "I keep getting distracted by… birds."
"Birds," said Archer carefully. "You mean… birds?"
"Yes! Birds! Flappy, chirping, shitting birds!" Other Saber pressed the chill glass against his temple and closed his eyes.
"There were birds at your job?" Archer kept his voice soothing, so soothing that Other Saber opened his eyes and gave him an angry look.
"Sometimes there are. Sometimes there aren't. Doesn't matter. I keep thinking about them anyhow. How they fly. The patterns they make in the sky. The way they move. I hate the things now and I still can't stop thinking about them."
"Oh," said Archer, and then, "Oh."
"What do you mean oh?" demanded Other Saber suspiciously.
Archer thought about explaining about Kuro, but he couldn't. Not when he still understood so little, not to Other Saber, who wasn't a friend as Rider was. He couldn't even bring himself to give the comfort Rider had given him: that maybe the birds were somehow related to Other Saber's past. She made it sound clever and insightful, but he'd just make it sound stupid.
Instead he nodded at Other Saber. "I'll fix it for tonight, okay?"
"What do you mean? I'm not going to lie to her," said Other Saber warningly. "That really doesn't work for me."
"I'll just show her you're useful in other ways. It'll work. Trust me." Then Archer got out the rest of the expensive tuna and turned it into a dish for Caster's whole table. He felt so cheerful about doing something helpful he didn't even mind when Shirou started getting underfoot asking questions about his process.
Then he personally delivered the platter to Caster's table, murmuring, "Compliments of Other Saber."
Four pairs of eyes turned to him, three of which were used to eating on the house. Taiga fell on the food first and after one bite started crowing in wordless delight. Then Lancer and Saber tried some, and finally Caster took a piece. The latter three knew that while they could eat for free, what they ate was mostly up to Archer's discretion. He'd accept orders for common dishes on the menu but anything off menu—anything special and expensive—was a treat even with their privileges.
Archer watched closely as Caster's eyes widened and she grabbed another piece. Before she ate it, she glanced over her shoulder at where Other Saber slumped at the bar. Her eyes softened in a way Archer would bet Other Saber never saw, and she whispered, "Did he have a bad day?"
Archer shrugged neutrally. "Couldn't say. But he's why you're getting the good stuff. Enjoy, folks." Then he strolled back to the bar, gave Other Saber a discreet thumbs up, and set about turning the scraps into ara yaki, a broiled, salted chef's snack that he split with Shirou and Other Saber.
Later that evening, when Caster rose to leave for the evening, she paused, looking at Other Saber for a long moment. Then she said, "Assassin, come on. Time to go home."
Other Saber lifted his head. "Caster, I—"
"Hey," she said, a little of her usual sharpness with him slipping back into her voice. "I had a nice night after a hard day at work. Don't ruin it by doing the kicked dog act. Just come home and chase off the raccoons." Her expression darkened. "I saw some crows this morning, too."
"Birds," muttered Other Saber and stood up. "Birds aren't going to be a problem."
"Yes? Good. I knew you were useful for something." She nodded regally at the door, and Other Saber, suddenly moving a lot more like himself, strolled over and opened it for her. Before he followed her out, he gave Archer one final look, just a hint of a smile in his eyes.
Archer smiled to himself and finished cleaning up for the evening with Shirou. After that, he sent Shirou home, did some prep for the next day, and took the kitchen trash out the staff entrance to the narrow alley…
…where he found a small, dark-skinned girl with pale hair crouched against the far wall, wearing a costume of red and black rags.
He stared at her for a moment, and then put the bag of trash in the dumpster before turning back to see if she was still there.
She was, and watching him intently, a long shadow cast by her small form in the bright lamplight from the main street. But the little lamp above the door made her eyes glow. The air itself seemed to crackle with the surreality of the night.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Isn't it a little late for you to be out, Kuro?"
Tapping her lower lip, she rose to her feet. "That's not important."
"I bet your parents would disagree," he pointed out, wondering if he could find Shirou's phone number inside.
Her expression darkened. "Them. I didn't come here to talk about them."
Archer sighed and leaned against the door, accepting the inevitable. "What did you come for?"
She tilted her head to one side and then the other, moving in a half-circle around him in an almost predatory way. It should have bothered him, made him even more uncomfortable, but somehow it didn't. She moved like a warrior and he felt something answer from within, a peculiar sensation that only grew stronger as she studied him.
"Did you come from another world?" she finally asked. "Are… are you Shirou from another world?"
It was the strangest question he'd ever been asked, and the izakaya owner had asked him more than a few. He stared at her, and remembered Taiga asking if Shirou was his relative.
A strange question, but he was in a strange situation. Rider had told him enough that he knew that amnesia as modern science understood it simply didn't happen, and yet he and most of the regulars had all experienced it.
So he thought about the question carefully before coming to his conclusion. He had some things in common with the kid, and possibly he was from another world, but was he the same person? Absolutely not. "I'm not Shirou, even from another world. Why do you ask?"
She took a deep breath. "Because I feel toward you like I feel toward him. But… more. A lot more. Like… like I'm part of you." Her voice turning bitter, she added, "Like I'm a shadow again and you're the real thing."
Again.
She spoke like she'd had experience as a shadow before, and he thought about how she was the mysterious dark to Illya's normal-girl light.
And all at once, Archer understood the nature of the connection between them. He wasn't sure he could put it into words; he had no idea how it worked; but the relief of understanding that somehow she really was connected to what he'd lost made him laugh out loud, covering his face to hide his relief.
When he lowered his hands, she was glaring at him. "Why are you laughing?"
He regarded her for a long moment, thinking of how she'd laughed and teased her sister that afternoon. However she'd come to be, she was certainly real now. As real as he was. He slid down the door, instinctively reaching for a way to reassure her. "When's your birthday, Kuro?"
"July 20th," she snapped.
"Well, there you go," he told her. "You have a birthday and I don't. If anybody's the shadow, I am."
She took a few steps closer to him and then stopped. Her hand brushed over her heart. Then she twisted her hands and brought into being two beautiful curved daggers, one black, one white. "You don't…. you don't want these back?"
He brushed his fingers over the white blade and a nearly electric jolt ran through him. Not a memory, but a knowing. Déjà vu. A recognition so deep that his body responded even when his mind was empty. He knew why she was dangerous. and that he was even more dangerous. And he knew those blades.
"Can you use them?" he asked softly.
She gave him a scornful look, pulling Byakuya away. He stood up again, watching her expectantly. She vanished, reappeared above him halfway up the wall, appeared higher, then lunged toward him, appearing and disappearing. Kanshou sheared away a tuft of hair on his left side and she flipped away, once again blinking higher.
But on her second dive, he caught her wrist before Byakuya could trim the right side of his hair, his own hand moving in a blur without thought or conscious effort on his part.
They stared at each other for a long moment, her tiny arm in his big hand, her feet braced lightly against his chest. Slowly, she brought her other blade around toward his neck, and he caught that arm too. It wasn't hard, but it was symbolic, somehow.
And then he let her go, pushing her into a flip she completed on her own before landing on her feet. The Married Blades vanished.
Abruptly, Archer felt very tired. It had been a long day, and the way this girl's eyes burned made him feel… sad. In some way, her existence depended on part of him, and it wasn't a good part. It wasn't a part that a child ought to have. And yet…
"Go home, Kuro. This is all… nothing. Meaningless. I'm just a cook."
She stared at him another moment, and then, moving with that supernatural speed, she was gone.
Slowly, Archer went back inside, where he poured himself a glass of soju, pulled out the box of envelopes and opened his. As he slowly emptied the glass, he toyed with the stiff, heavy golden card. It was blank, as they were all blank, except for an elaborate engraved border.
In the end, after he'd caught and released her, she'd looked at him like she expected him to claim something from her. He still didn't quite know what it was. But he knew, with increasing certainty as he drank, that he never, ever would.
Finally, when the glass was empty, he sighed and put the card back in the envelope and the envelope back in the box. Then he wiped down the bar one more time, put his glass in the dishwasher, and returned to his prep tasks for the next day of running an izakaya.
