Morning Rituals
Sakura wakes from the best sleep she's had in a decade. As she sits up, stretching her arms overhead, she can conceive only one reason it's ended.
I guess I'm as rested as I need to be. No reason to keep lazing in bed…
It could also be her natural sleep pattern. As she looks outside through the room's window, it's still dark, with no sun casting its warming rays upon the land. Even past the horizon, at least as far as she can see, there's nothing telling that it's close to rising yet.
Still so early… Well, it's fine. I should…
She looks down from her bed to spy her bag, still full with everything she'll need for the duration of her stay.
Even if it requires her to launder her garments a few times.
Once she's swung her legs over the side of the bed, and planted her feet on the floor paneled, she reaches down, opening the bag and pulling from it one of her school uniforms, slightly wrinkled for having been packed away. After laying it out on the bed, she smooths out those wrinkles by hand, making it serviceable.
That's good. No ironing required.
Satisfied, she collects those clothes and a few other necessary items from the bag, then turns toward the door to her room.
'Rider.'
Within that same room, Rider remains vigilant, having spent the night guarding her Master during her most vulnerable time. She'd also taken that time to sift through her own feelings, trying to separate them from her Master's.
And reaching a conclusion.
Certainly, Sakura's own feelings were the seed, but now these are well and truly mine.
A small bud has sprung within her, nurtured by her musings over the little man she'd only briefly come to know during the evening two nights ago, and the morning which followed. Even for a Servant, whose time is limited to the conflict's duration, it's still too soon for her to say something so brazen as 'I think I like this person', even to herself. Still, the plant into which that bud may blossom could very well bear fruit of that nature.
But for now, she's content letting it remain a sapling of interest.
And with Sakura calling her, she turns her attention from that toward her.
'Sakura?'
'I'm stepping out. You're coming with me, yes?'
Imperceptibly, Rider nods, but the affirmative feeling passing through their connection makes it clear, and Sakura nods as well. Then, after gathering her things, she opens the door to her room and steps into the darkened hall.
Plagued by the same memory-turned-nightmare from two nights ago, Shirou's sleep is far less restful. The same raging inferno consumes everything from buildings to people, leaving only a murky haze of red in its wake.
Despite the memory being a decade old, time has not dulled its edge here, in sleep, where past and present have no meaning, and memories manifest like reality.
And as is often the case in dreams of this sort, there's no escaping his surroundings. No matter how far or how fast he runs, the scene seems to follow him, as if his own mind recreates the vision with each step he takes. Even knowing it's a dream, there's no getting away from it, and he runs until he's exhausted his energy, collapsing to the ground.
Right where he'd been saved during the conclusion of those events.
Shirou startles awake from his restless sleep, shaken either by the dream itself, or the deep and uneasy feeling pitted in his chest, like some lead weight. It's impossible to know, and it's not worth dwelling on. He runs his hand across his forehead and draws it back damp.
Like the rest of himself, he finds.
Fully damp with night sweat, despite the morning's chill winter air.
Stupid dream. I'm going to have to take another bath…
Sighing, he looks up at the clock on the wall, and his eyes widen.
"…? It's earlier than I expected… Hm…"
He hums thoughtfully at the time, about half-past five. There's nothing to be heard throughout the entire house, at least as far as he can tell, as he attempts to wipe the fog from his mind.
It then hits him, almost all at once, and he winces as he sits on his futon.
Guh—! I need—!
A sudden urge. His body's natural desire to relieve itself of what's accumulated overnight. And it serves well in reducing the effort required to clear his head.
Damn it! I don't have time to sit here!
Again, he squirms uncomfortably. He tosses his bedspread aside, leaving it an untidy mess, then launches to his feet, and to his bedroom's door.
Despite his bladder's incessant, insistent goading, Shirou makes his way with some grace through the halls of his house to the bathroom. When he's finally arrives, there's little time left for him to spend considering anything beyond the porcelain basin, which beckons like an alabaster siren, offering him relief from his most urgent problem.
No thought given to the room's light being on, nor to the damp warmth in the air wafting out to greet him as he flings the door open. Even the shifting sound of sloshing water only exacerbates his concerns as all his attention centers on the toilet.
Gonna be a close call—!
The lid clanks against the reservoir as he heaves it back, but just as he's about to divest himself of his long undergarments —
"Ah… S-Senpai… Um…"
— through the frosted glass dividing the bathroom in half, he can, just in time, make out Sakura's voice, and her ethereal words.
"I'm sorry… I'm… still in here… Could you…?"
Words which come staggered, almost pained, as if it were she, and not he, who is imposing.
Now realizing he's not alone, Shirou has to fight the reflex to spin around as he drops his hands to his waist. Because right now, he knows acutely that behind that frosted glass pane, Sakura is as naked as the day she'd been born.
If he could see through that glass, the image would surely be forever burned into his mind. But simply knowing these facts, combined with hearing her voice, is enough for his mind to paint a frightfully vivid image which forces his every spare drop of blood below his waist, even despite his bladder's aggressive protests.
Making it impossible for him to relieve himself in the traditional sense, even if he still wanted to.
"Ah, S-S-Sakura! S-Sorry, I completely—" Shaking his head, almost violently, he cuts himself short as he flies to the door. "—I'm leaving right now! Please take your time!"
Without waiting for her response, he again flings the door open, bolts from the bathroom, and slams it closed behind him. His breaths come short and stuttered. In his chest, his heart slams aggressively, while just below his waist, his thermals stick out conspicuously as he's impelled and toyed with by his thoughts of what lay beyond that thin frosted glass pane.
D-Damn it! Come on, you stupid—! Get it together!
Inwardly, he growls both at himself and his lower aspect, which seems especially vulnerable to these sorts of stimuli, given the early morning hour. Yet this weakness may also prove a strength in allowing him the time needed to make it to the guest restroom.
Or outside, where he can vacate himself as an offering to a bush or tree.
Guh… I feel gross just thinking about that—!
With his thoughts cut short, he squirms uncomfortably against his baser urgings, then spurs himself onward, a stiff waddle being all he can muster on his way to the guest restroom.
Behind that glass divider, Sakura submerges herself up to her nose, leaving only it and her eyes exposed, with the rest of herself concealed by the bathtub's steaming water. One would be forgiven for thinking it was that water causing her face to flush fully red.
For his being in such a rush this morning, Shirou had neglected to replace his shirt. A shirt which had been stripped for becoming damp from his brief practice session the past evening. Despite the condensation enhancing the glass's opacity, obscuring him from her sight, she could still make out the silhouette of his broad shoulders and well-defined back.
It was so… He's so…
The image, only moments old, is still fresh within her mind, which during that moment had effectively locked up like the brakes of a car hydroplaning toward a wall. It was only the sound of the seat smacking into the toilet itself which helped her gain control, realizing what would come next.
Shirou unsheathing himself to take care of his morning business.
Seeing him exposed like that, even through the frosted glass, would have been more than she could handle. Even the thought of it now threatens to have her fully submerging herself.
I must remember to lock the door next time…
While Shirou and Sakura contest with their own morning's awkwardness, their teacher, Fujimura Taiga, gradually slips from the realm of sleep and into the waking world, until she's far enough in that she blinks her eyes up at her room's plain white ceiling. Beside her, her ward slumbers fitfully, using her arm as a pillow.
Well… So that's why my arm feels like it's on fire.
Shizuka may soon come around herself, by the way she tosses and turns, yet her eyes remain scrunched closed. She rolls to her right, freeing Fujimura's arm, restoring the natural flow and dulling the all-over prickling sensation which had been rampaging through it.
Staring down at the girl, she can't help but smile sadly.
I think I'll let her rest.
With that decided, she creeps from the bed to avoid shifting it, which might disturb the girl's restless sleep. Once her feet are on the floor, she measures each step to avoid making any sound as she moves toward the door.
While she's doing that, I can go get cleaned—!
Yet, like last night, before she's able to reach it, a firm tug at her night dress stops her in place, pulling her from her thoughts. Knowing who it is, she slumps her shoulders at having failed once again to avoid disturbing Shizuka's much-needed rest.
Her sleep seems about as stable as dryer lint.
The humorous image the thought conjures helps fix her slight grimace into a sincere smile, and she turns to see her night dress pinched between Shizuka's fingers on her outstretched hand.
"Ah, good morning, Itchi-chan. Sorry to wake you." She then turns toward her, kneels down, and gently ruffles the girl's hair. "I hope you slept well?"
Under the kind gesture, Shizuka nods, showing just a hint of a smile. One of maybe a half-dozen she's seen her wear in the past two days. Despite being almost imperceptible, it brings a broad smile to the teacher's face.
"That's good to hear. I was just about to take a… bath…?" She looks Shizuka over, realizing something, then nods thoughtfully. "Say, what do you think? Would you like to take a bath together?"
Condensation accumulates on the mirror as the water in the bathroom's tub heats to a comfortable temperature. Inside, both teacher and child have shed their sleepwear. Fujimura runs her hand through the calm, warming water while Shizuka waits seated on a white plastic bath stool.
She can't recall when she'd last bathed with her mother or sister. That realization chokes her throat, but she forces the painful lump down. Even though she'd received Fujimura's express permission last night not to hold herself back, she does so anyway.
"I think it's ready, Itchi-chan."
Wearing a contented smile, Fujimura looks over to see Shizuka's reddened face wrinkling up as she wipes at her nose. She drops her hands in her lap, then looks up. The short-lived smile she'd shown in the bedroom replaced with a small, sad frown.
For how long will every single thing remind her of what she's lost? She can't even guess.
She floats from the bathing stool, then shuffles over toward the tub and runs her own hand through the heated water. Its warmth pours into her, radiating outward from her hand and into her entire body, and she shudders at the sudden temperature change.
After a few moments' hesitation, she climbs in, sinking herself to her shoulders. The warmth from the water floods her completely, bringing from her another slight shudder. Fujimura sinks herself in as well, up to her waist, and exhales a deep sigh as the warmth relaxes away yesterday's cares and concerns.
They both spend a few minutes relaxing before Fujimura catches Shizuka's eyes wandering over her womanly form. They come to rest about her chest, and she shows an annoyed frown as she looks down at her own. Seeing her plain irritation at the obvious difference between them, Fujimura chuckles.
"Say, Itchi-chan, how old are you?"
Hearing her name, she stops staring down at herself and looks back up. With some concerted effort, she forces her mouth open to answer the benign question.
"Eight…" she mutters.
"Eight, hm?"
Her light smirk relaxes into a casual smile, matching well with her amused head-shake.
"Well, I'd say you're a little young to be worrying about things like this…" She gestures to herself. "I'm sure you've got a lot of growing ahead of you."
Feeling refreshed after their relaxing bath, both work to dress themselves.
Glints of the sun's rays peeking over the horizon shine through the high-set bathroom window, impelling Fujimura's haste in dressing in one of her endless number of black-and-yellow striped shirts. With her dress needing to be laundered, she chooses in its place a simple pair of blue jeans, and finishes her attire with a light and breezy sea-foam green jacket and two pearl studs, one for each ear.
Shizuka returns to what she'd been wearing the previous day; her drab gray shirt and blue-jean overalls. Fujimura looks her over, wearing a thoughtful frown.
Hmm… That won't do. We'll need to go get her something to wear after school. Good thing it's Saturday.
While any other day would see her teaching obligations completed too late in the day for something as time-consuming as shopping for clothing, today, like every Saturday, is a half day.
So time for such things will be no problem.
Nodding, she looks Shizuka's attire over. Despite it being the second day she's worn it, there seems to be nothing wrong with it, cleanliness wise, so she sets her own concerns regarding it to rest.
"Alright, Itchi-chan!" She claps her hands at her chest, showing a grin packed with anticipation. "We'll be going over to Shirou's for breakfast this morning! Are you ready?"
Once she's finished fussing with her overall straps, getting them untwisted, Shizuka looks up and nods. Somehow, she's able to show another smile. It seems to come easier this time than the past few, leaving Fujimura hopeful that her efforts might serve as an effective emotional poultice of sorts.
After finding a winter jacket small enough for Shizuka, a sunny yellow, brighter than her depressing brown-colored coat, Fujimura fits her with it, then throws over her own breezy jacket that same white faux-fur lined winter coat she usually wears.
Once she's fastened her helmet and goggles to her head, she then helps Shizuka to secure hers in place. Despite the cold, she's slipped her feet into a pair of open-toed shoes, while Shizuka's typical tennis shoes help to keep hers nice and toasty.
And with everything in place, they head outside.
The moped ride from her place to Shirou's ends with the sun half over the horizon. Once they've arrived, Shizuka waits quietly by the door while Fujimura wheels the moped to its usual place, out of sight. She then returns, unlocks the front door, slides it open, and both she and Shizuka enter together.
The Emiya Residence's near miss that morning in the bathroom doesn't derail breakfast, which is fully prepared and dished by the time Fujimura arrives.
Everyone sits around the table, Shizuka beside their teacher, and Shirou beside Sakura, ready to enjoy the food. The first few moments of the morning meal are spent in relative quiet, but eventually some conversation must be had, and Fujimura is the first to contribute.
"Shirou, what are you gonna do today?" Having downed her first bite of chicken simmered with lotus root, she readies her next before finishing her question. "Will you be working this afternoon, 'cause it's Saturday?"
With his own first bite finished, Shirou shakes his head.
"No, I don't have work today. I think I'll be helping Issei with something after school. Why?"
Succinct, his answer is finished before his teacher takes in her second bite. She frowns down at it, then sighs.
"It's nothing, but I just hoped you might come pay me a visit at the dojo today." Her brief frown lifts into a light smirk. "See, I'm in a bit of a pinch this month."
"Hm…?" Shirou readies his next bite before answering. "In a pinch? How's that?"
"Actually, it's my wallet that's in a pinch. I'd be thrilled if someone made me lunch."
The clear implication expands her light smirk into a shameless, open-mouthed grin.
"I refuse." In contrast, Shirou's response is instantaneous, mirthless, and completely flat. "It's your own fault, so you should skip a meal once in a while."
She considers refuting his claim. The food purchased for last evening's meal made a significant dent, but since this outlier proves one exception to what is usually the rule, bringing it up would accomplish nothing.
Instead, she opts for her backup play.
"Heh, I wasn't expecting anything from you. The only one I'm depending on is Sakura-chan. Right, Sakura-chan?"
"…"
With her mind elsewhere, Sakura gives no immediate response, compelling Fujimura's attention. Even before now, she's spent the meal silently poking at her plate, resting her chin in her free hand and staring vacantly into space.
"Sakura-chan?"
A few seconds pass before Fujimura speaks up again. As she does, she waves her hand in front of Sakura's blank gaze, forcing from her a stiff blink as she returns to the present.
"…? Huh? Fujimura-sensei?"
"Jeez, Sakura-chan! I was asking if you'd prepare lunch for me, but you're just staring off into space!"
She huffs, puffing her cheeks with feigned indignation before getting serious again.
Or at least, whatever for her passes as serious.
"Is everything alright?"
For still being in a daze, the words take a moment to process once they've reached her ears, and her response comes slower than usual.
"Ah… Right… Yes." When she's finally able, she looks up from her plate, her mouth lifting from that thin line into a light smile. "If you don't mind having the same lunch as me, I can prepare one."
Unconvinced of her well-being, Fujimura looks her over, her head tilted. Her broad smile has since narrowed and dropped into a perplexed frown. From their breakfast which, while still good, fell short of the excellent quality to which she's become accustomed, to how Sakura's mind seems all too desperate to flee the present and return to where ever it had just been, it's only too obvious.
Something happened. It couldn't be… They didn't…
She glances over at Shirou, who sits contentedly chewing through his meal as if it were any other breakfast and any other morning. With nothing more said, Sakura's gaze again wanders off, being lost to time and space.
They couldn't have… Could they?
She glances over at Shirou, and his casual demeanor sets her teeth on edge. Especially after what should have been something truly momentous. And forgetting their present company, she holds her arms folded across her chest, preparing to vent her frustration.
"Shirou…"
"Hm?" Finished with his current bite of white rice, he looks up at her low tone, nearly a growl, to see her glaring across the table at him, wearing a menacing frown.
Both catch him off guard.
"Uh…? Fuji-nee? Wh-what's—?"
"Don't just sit there eating like nothing's happened!" With her free hand, she slams the table, rattling its contents. "It's obvious by Sakura's behavior right now! So tell me plainly: Last night, did you—"
Realizing what she's thinking, Shirou breathes out an exasperated sigh, and his eyes roll so hard it almost stings.
Jeez, Fuji-nee's drawing insane conclusions again. At least she doesn't have her shinai this time. But Sakura? She's still…?
He casts a sidelong glance to see she's not even reacted. Either to the hard slam of Fujimura's hand against the table, or the loud accusation she's made. It seems she's still absent from the conversation.
And by the look on her face, the room, and possibly even her body.
Is she still upset about what happened in the bathroom? I mean, I was surprised, and it was embarrassing, but to be this hung up on it…?
He looks from her back to his teacher, whose brow twitches as she waits for his answer to her obvious-yet-incomplete question, and he again heaves a deep sigh, shaking his head.
"No, Fuji-nee. Again, nothing happened, so you can quit with your silly delusions." Frowning across the table at her, some slight motion from Shizuka as she pokes at her plate with her chopsticks, fishing for her next bite, reminds him of her presence, and his frown deepens. "And really, is that the sort of thing you want to talk about around—"
With his own, he points them at the girl while staring meaningfully at their teacher. She traces his aim, then goes a shade of red, realizing.
But even with her present, there's still one last jab she has to work in.
"Right, of course. And of course, you didn't." Her small frown lifts into a taunting smirk. "After all, you're too spineless…"
"Urg—! F-F-Fuji-nee! That's—!"
There's no retort he can offer in response to his teacher's vicious, surreptitious jab, so he clips his mouth closed, returning his attention to his breakfast. At his side, Sakura's finally present enough in mind to at least make an attempt at her own meal. Again eyeing her from the side, particularly the plate of food at which she pokes around, he's reminded of their teacher's shameless request for her to make lunch for them both.
Because of this needlessly elaborate breakfast, she didn't have time to make any lunch… If I hadn't spaced out during my bath, I could've helped, but…
Frowning, he gripes at himself as he snags a bite from his breakfast. Sakura and Fujimura sharing lunch is a common occurrence, with the former being a club member while the latter is its overseer. So it's no surprise their teacher would ask that, and likely she only asked to get a rise out of Shirou.
About to return to her own breakfast, Fujimura spots Shirou staring absently at her from across the table. Something lacking in his complexion had caught her attention a while ago, and it was for that reason as well that she'd been teasing him, hoping to bring it back.
Seeing that it hasn't, she breathes out a small sigh before setting down her eating utensils. If she continues holding them, she knows she'll try to take another bite, and that would only delay the question she wants to ask.
"Shirou… You're looking a little pale this morning. Did something happen?"
But there's no reason for her to wait idly for his reply, so she takes a deep sip from her bowl of miso while he chews through his current bite. As he does, he frowns down at the table, his brow wrinkling inward.
… Geez. She's always slow on the uptake, but at times like these, she gets sharp as a tack.
Once he's swallowed his bite, its taste stolen by her observation, he looks up again, meeting her gaze tinged with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
Mostly the latter, with maybe a smidgeon of the former.
"Just a dream I had this morning about my past. I guess it's still weighing on my mind, is all."
Hearing his words, the gram of concern vanishes from her gaze, and her mouth curls up in a smile.
"I see. So nothing unusual, then. That's a relief."
Satisfied, she ends the discussion on what could be an upsetting topic. Lacking any concern himself, Shirou pays her abrupt disinterest no mind. If this breakfast had been shared a decade ago, it would be different. During that time, fiery nightmares plagued his mind regularly. But as time passed, those images haunted him less and less, and now he's over it well enough that even after dreaming about it, it doesn't stick with him throughout the day.
Thinking back on it, I guess it was pretty bad back then…
Silently, he muses over how he's adjusted as he scoops up some rice.
Fuji-nee must have sensed that change in me, since she's been here since back then.
By now, aided by their banal breakfast banter, Sakura's mind has fully returned from earlier in the master bathroom, where against her will she'd been dwelling for baser reasons she's loathe to admit, either out loud or to herself.
Breakfast proves less interesting than listening to them talk, but she still takes her time chewing it through. While they talk, and Sakura listens quietly, Shizuka remains content to do likewise.
As this person's ward, she takes mental notes on her, her general disposition, and her relationship with this boy. Though grateful to her for being willing to look after her, and her repeated caring concern, seeing her like this drives something home. Staring back down at her plate, fishing from it another piece of chicken, she realizes what that thing is.
Fujimura-san's nice, but… she's all over the place. One second, she's an adult, and the next, she's behaving like a child.
Lifting the tender morsel, she smiles at the thought as she bites down on it while Shirou and Fujimura continue their light conversation.
"So, is that why you're not hungry?" She grins, pointing at his plate, still half-full. "Seems like you don't have much of an appetite this morning."
"I am hungry." He directs his still-worn frown at her, shielding his plate with his arm as he slides it closer. "I'm fine, so don't use my bad dream as an excuse to pilfer my plate."
She doesn't even pout at his response, or as he digs into his plate aggressively.
"Well, I'm glad you've got such an enduring personality, but I really wish you would be a bit more delicate."
"That should be my line. I wish you'd act more considerate."
Shirou returns his attention downward, breaking off eye contact as he and his teacher poke harmless fun at each other. His simple retort proves well enough he's in fine spirits, and Fujimura lets out a brief, relieved laugh at it.
On hearing her chuckle, Shirou lets out a minor, discontented grumble.
I'm glad she's worrying for my sake, but if I thanked her for that, I know she'd just go on and on.
He takes in a few more bites as Sakura looks on, surprised and uncertain at the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Reasonable, as by their casual snipes and retorts, most outside observers might think Shirou's relationship with his instructor a contentious one.
