07—Commonality

"—Sella, please wait—!"

Illya holds the phone close to her face, twisting the cord with one hand, covering the receiver with the other to prevent her attendant's frantic berating from pouring out into the room. Though finished, the scent of breakfast, the fish, eggs, and miso soup, still hangs thick in the air.

Fujimura has since departed, confident with Sakura present that her own presence would be superfluous, and also needing to get to the archery dojo sooner rather than later. Sakura and Shirou stand by in the living room, the former mostly idle while the latter works to clear the table, as Illya wrestles with her check-in phone call.

"You said you would be home in time for dinner, Lady Illyasviel! This behavior is wholly unacceptable!" She can almost picture the person on the other line, practically shouting into the mouthpiece, her face red with concern and frustration. "It was bad enough you didn't speak with me when you called! Just leaving it to Leysritt—!"

"There's nothing wrong with leaving it in Liz's hands, Sella!" Illya snaps. "And she obviously told you, since you were waiting by the phone! It didn't even ring twice! What, were you sleeping by it?!"

"Lady Illyasviel!" She can hear some shock in Sella's voice, followed by a deep, slow breath. "You are correct, of course. Please forgive my thoughtless words. I am merely beside myself—"

"I know, Sella. It's why I didn't want to tell you." Illya sighs, twisting the cord around her finger. "We'd still be talking. Things were completely fine here. Onii-chan's…" She looks over at Shirou and he shoots his gaze from her to the table. "He's really nice. I told Liz too…"

"I know. I'm glad things went well…" Sella's voice is calmer now, but there's still some unspoken concern in it that Illya picks up on.

"Sella, did something happen while I was gone?"

What follows, Sella's silence, is telling, though it lasts only moments before being broken by the sound of plates rattling against each other as they're set into the sink.

Finally, Sella clears her throat, then answers.

"Your grandfather attempted to contact you yesterday." Illya's thoughts freeze in her mind as Sella goes on. "In truth, it's the more significant reason I was so upset. He was…" She hesitates again. "Not pleased that he was unable to speak with you. He said that he expects to hear from you—"

"I don't care about that, Sella…" Illya says flatly. "I don't want to talk to him."

More silence, then Sella lets out a soft sigh.

"I understand your feelings well, but it is not something we can avoid. I do not think he intended for the conversation to be a casual one."

Illya's brow furrows, and her frown deepens. "I have to come home, don't I?"

"I'm afraid so, Lady Illyasviel. I do not know what his reaction would be if he attempted—"

"I understand, Sella." Illya frees her hand from the phone cord, then breathes out a dejected sigh. "I'll leave right away."

"I appreciate your consideration, Lady Illyasviel. I am sorry to have to cut your visit with your brother short." Sella's voice lifts some as she speaks further. "Though I am looking forward to hearing how it went. From what Leysritt said, it seems your time was most enjoyable."

"A lot happened after we spoke, Sella…" She smiles down at the floor, her eyes relaxing closed. "I'll share with you when I get back. Hopefully before noon."

"Very good, Lady Illyasviel. I'll have lunch waiting."

There's a click from the receiver, then silence, and Illya places the handset down as she breathes out another sad sigh. Behind her, she can almost feel Shirou's eyes on her back. She straightens up, then turns to face him, seeing him wearing an uncomfortable smile.

"Thank you for breakfast." She performs a polite curtsy again. The same one she had last night before she'd planned to leave. "I won't forget the kindness you've shown me, Onii-chan." She turns to Sakura and repeats the gesture. "Or your own. In fact, while Onii-chan finishes in here, could I speak with you outside… Sakura, was it?"

Shirou looks over to see Sakura standing to one side in front of the zataku, twisting her skirt, shifting her feet, and darting her eyes about the room. Hearing her name, she startles, then looks up at Illya, her eyes wide and mouth falling open. She wrings her hands at her waist as she nods sullenly.

In fact, she's been on edge all morning, and it hasn't escaped Shirou's notice. Even now, as he watches her help with Illya's long, purple winter coat and fancy winter cap, he can't help but notice.

Honestly, what's wrong with her. She's been like that…

His eyes drift down toward his left hand, still wrapped from earlier.

Since she saw my hand…

Her mistakes that morning could fill a small notebook, and the words she spoke could leave it completely empty. While pouring tea for herself, she overfilled her glass. She saturated her omelets with soy sauce. Even her pretty pink kitchen apron. She failed to remove that before joining them at the table.

He watches them walk toward the door to the living room, until it slides closed behind them, then his eyes drift toward the kitchen, toward a plate filled with her uneaten breakfast.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say she caught a cold…"

He looks down at the table and sighs, then works at finishing cleaning, wiping up some of the still-present dregs from breakfast.

Since meeting her, during the summer four years ago, and even since her time coming around to help, he's never seen her look ill. At least, not to this degree.

Fuji-nee will be at the archery range. Maybe she can check up on her, but I should at least go check on her after school or something. Or at least, I should see her out…

He looks at the crumbs swept into his hand, then moves into the kitchen to brush them off into the sink.

Well, I'll give them a minute. They didn't really get to speak to each other much, and if Illya is going to be a part of my life, which it looks like…

His thoughts drift.

It's more than he expected, even after learning his father had a daughter he never knew about.

A big part of my life… She's a magus, and one of these… Master… things. But she has to go home, which means she probably won't be back today to help me learn what that actually means.

Again, his eyes fall to his left hand, to the bandage, and he rubs his wrist and the bandage uncomfortably.

So much is happening, and so fast… And now Sakura's unwell, too…

He thinks back to the kitchen, when she saw the marking on his hand.

He was surprised at it, too. Even after taking the blow from Fujimura, which only stung more than anything. That it should leave such a mark was surprising. But then learning it wasn't a bruise, but something called a Command Spell…

Command Spell, huh… The way Sakura was looking at it, it was like…

Her face flashes through his mind. The face she made when she saw it.

It wasn't a serious injury. It wasn't like he was bleeding out all over the kitchen sink, or his bone was sticking out. As far as bruises go, sure, it seemed serious. But it was still just a bruise.

Or so he thought.

So why was she so worried about it… Why is she still so worried about it…?

The more he puzzles on it, the more anxious he feels. Like there's some undesirable truth behind one of the many doors he's flinging open in his mind.

Does she…?

His eyes snap wide.

It's a leap, for certain, what he's thinking. But her reaction to it was far too severe. If he never learned what he now knows, he'd not have given it a second thought. Just Sakura, being Sakura. Overly concerned over something insignificant. But now, knowing what he does, it's impossible to see it that way anymore.

And the implications sink like a stone in his stomach.


"Did you talk to him?" Illya stands with her back to Sakura at the gate. "To that little idiot?"

"Illya-chan…" Sakura's voice trails, but she nods at her back. That, and her silence, is enough to give the answer.

"I thought so. So, I'm guessing you knew everything, right?" She spins around, and looks up at Sakura, neither smiling nor frowning. Just giving her a relaxed stare. "Miss Magus?"

If she was trying to get a rise, she fails as Sakura's brow only tightens and her own mouth forms into a firm, thin line.

"Yes," she says. "I knew. And before he left, he told me much." She takes a step forward, then bows deeply. Illya's mouth falls open, her eyes widening at the gesture. "I must thank you, Illya-chan, for keeping to your word. Taruko-kun is new to this world. For him to invite you here, he must not have known how dangerous you truly are."

Illya remains quiet for a moment, contemplating the gesture before shrugging it off.

"Left, eh? Too bad. I was hoping to pick on him some more. As for the rest of what you said…" She shrugs again. "Well, you seem important to Onii-chan. You, that teacher, this house…" She looks it over, nodding thoughtfully as Sakura rights herself. "It wouldn't make a very fine first impression for me to destroy everything he holds dear on our first meeting." Again, she shows that sinister, icy smile, before lifting it into something more sincere. "And it's not as if I had a reason to break my word. Even if everything came about because of that strange, naïve little idiot's meddling, I would still say things worked out in my favor."

She spins again, putting Sakura at her back. "And you've been looking after Shirou for a while, too. I'm sure you're in no small way responsible for him becoming the way he is, so I at least owe you a debt of gratitude for that. You, and that insane teacher of yours." She takes a step through the gate. "But I must warn you the next time we meet, it may not be on such friendly terms."

Before Sakura can respond, Illya has stepped around the corner, and out of view, for the large wall running the boundary of the house. For a moment, a truly imposing shadow fades in, casting over the gate. It's followed by a loud slam and a powerful back draft, which kicks up some sticks and stones. By the time the debris has settled, and Sakura has lowered her arms, the shadow and Illya are both gone.

'Master… I am certain that was the girl's Servant.'

Sakura looks over her shoulder, to where she suspects Rider is standing beside the door to the house, and nods.

'I know, Rider.'

For the oppressive presence being gone, she presses her hand into her chest and heaves out a deeply relieved sigh.

Thank god everything worked out. But what did she mean, 'in my favor'…?


The front door slides open, closing Sakura's opportunity to consider Ilya's words. Dressed in his school uniform, his neck and collar covered with a checkered scarf, Shirou steps outside. He slides the door closed behind him, looks around the yard briefly, then hangs his head.

"Illya's left…"

He breathes out a disappointed sigh. Besides what else he wants to do, he'd hoped to see her off. If there wasn't something more pressing, he might even have gone after her. But as that's not the case, and based on what she's told him, at present, it weighs comparatively light in his mind.

With this thing on my hand, and everything she's said, we'll definitely be meeting again. Probably soon… I just hope that, somehow, I can learn something more before then.

As he raises his head up to meet Sakura's gaze, which she reflexively averts again, he shivers against a chill wind which blows through the yard between the two of them. The school uniforms aren't that heavy, and it's winter, so it's not unexpected, but it doesn't help settle his nerves. If he's right, the best-case scenario is that Sakura just knows what this thing on his hand is.

I don't even want to think what the worst case could be…

"Senpai…?" Her voice is barely a whisper. She looks up, meeting his stare with ill-concealed concern. "I have to be going… Thank you for breakfast." She bows politely, yet still wearing an anxious frown, then turns to leave.

"Wait a second, Sakura…" Shirou takes a step toward her, calling out and causing her to stop. She turns back, but continues to hang her head and avoid his gaze. Even as he holds out her lunch box. "Here… You forgot this. We worked so hard on it, it would be a shame to let it go to waste…"

"Oh…" She breathes out a quiet sigh, then reaches out for it with both hands, taking it from him and holding it to her chest. "Yes… Thank you, Senpai." She then slips it into her bag. It's a tight fit, but as long as she walks carefully, it shouldn't get jostled.

Shirou nods. "Sakura… Is everything alright?" The smile he tries on fits awkwardly right now. Like it's out of place. "If you're unwell, I'm sure Fuji-nee will let you take a pass on your club activities."

He knows she'll lie. Even if it's something benign, that she's just suddenly under the weather, she won't tell him.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she says, smiling as she shakes her head. "Just a light headache. Please don't worry about it. I'm sure I only seem ill to your eyes, but I promise I'm doing really well today."

One hand over the other, she clasps them both at her waist as she proves his prediction true. Though she smiles as she speaks, it proves false, wavering slightly under his scrutiny. Her skin tone, generally flush at their interactions, is lighter than normal. Pale. Even the way she rubs her hands uncomfortably at her waist. And of course, if the immediate weren't enough, there was everything that happened over breakfast.

Shirou sighs, dropping his gaze. "Really? So well you could finish your entire breakfast?"

Frustrated, he snipes unseriously, and Sakura's false smile falters into a subtle yet very real frown, highlighted by how she diverts her gaze, her full brow wrinkling inward.

She sighs out another small gasp, like the one she let out when he handed over her lunch box, and Shirou looks up at the small sound.

But even as she replies, she can't return his gaze.

"… Please excuse me. And I think you're the one who should be resting, Senpai."

Devastatingly, her words and gestures, and even the sad face she wears now, crush the small hope he had. That this was just some minor malady. On any normal morning, he'd simply let it go. But this morning has proved anything but.

If I'd stayed ignorant, sure… If Illya hadn't told me what this is…

Unconsciously, he rubs the back of his left hand. Then, very consciously, he works to loosen the bandage over the strange marking.

But now, I'd have to be blind not to make the connection. Ever since she saw this…

Sakura turns slowly toward the gate. Just as she does, Shirou sucks in a deep breath. He's fighting himself. If he's right, pursuing this will change things between them. A thousand uncertain, unspoken concerns rage as a storm in his mind.

Is it okay to ask this? To risk this? What if I'm right? What if she is…? If I'm right, then is that the only reason she knows what this mark is? How long has she been? Her whole life, right? What about Shinji? Does he know, too? Is that why he's been the way he's been toward her?

Above all, one hangs heaviest. If the storm in his mind had an eye, this would be its opposite.

And do I even really want to know?

"Sakura, wait…"

He hasn't finished parsing the half of them before his mouth falls open, and the words tumble out. Sakura's slow turn crawls to a stop, and she looks toward him from the side, over her shoulder, still unable to meet his gaze.

"Senpai…? Did I forget—!"

As he raises his hand, the bandage pulled free, her eyes widen again. Especially when he moves that hand into her field of view. She winces uncomfortably, forcing her gaze away from it. Another shade of color drains from her complexion as the wrinkles in her brow and her small, sad frown both deepen further.

"Ever since you saw this…" He speaks slowly, trying to control his tone. To keep his voice from shaking. "You've been off. Sakura…"

Painfully, he forces down a hard swallow. Any second, he expects his hands to break into a sweat, and it's all he can do to keep them steady.

"Do you know what this is?"

Everything Sakura has been doing to hide her burgeoning concern falters. She lets out a startled gasp as her mouth falls open. Her eyes widen further, and her grip on her hand tightens at her waist.

Her free hand clings to her skirt, twisting it.

Thoughts just as turbulent as Shirou's storm around, making a fine mess of her mind.

What is he asking? He thinks it's just a bruise, doesn't he? Why would he ask me about it? Does he know what it is? Worse, if he does, and he's asking me about it, does he think I know what it is?

And like him, one worry hangs heavy over the rest.

Does he think I'm…?

Again, she turns toward the gate.

"It's… a serious bruise, right?" Her voice quivers. She can't even turn back, or look at him as she answers. In case her unspoken worries are correct. "Just a bruise…?"

"Sakura…" Shirou grinds his teeth, frustrated by her evasiveness, but even more at her unwillingness to answer him, or even look directly at him right now. Also, at himself for his persistence. "I've had bruises before, but never one like this. And you've seen them before, but you've never acted like this…"

He reaches his hand toward her, and her entire form goes rigid, yet still somehow quakes with a sudden shudder as he places it on her shoulder.

"Are you still—"

"Please, stop!"

Startled by her loud cry, Shirou withdraws his hand. With her back still to him, she hunches her shoulders.

"Please don't ask anymore…" Still shaking, she turns around, her eyes barely open, the morning sun glistening in the small tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Senpai… If you keep asking, I'm afraid…" Her hands free their grip on each other and her skirt, then lift to her shoulders. She trembles, and her voice quakes harder with each word she speaks. "So afraid… If you keep asking, I'm so afraid things might change… So please don't ask anymore…"

Everything to this point has been a delicate dance of deception. Not malicious, but defensive. This place, by his side, is the only place in the world worth being. And every act, every spoken word, consciously or otherwise, has been to preserve her place here.

But if the veil of deceit is pulled away…

I can't risk that…! I don't want to! I don't want him to know…

"Sakura…"

Shirou's fully widened eyes relax. His mouth, dropped in surprise and concern, lifts, closing and turning upward in a small smile. One he hopes conveys at least some small measure of reassurance, as he watches her, shaking like a leaf, the filtered sunbeams casting through the trees around the front yard reflecting the subtle, beautiful violet hue of her hair.

And her eyes too, if she'd just open them.

"Then, let me ask you something else…"

He looks down at the ground for something. Anything he could use. Unfortunately, there's nothing convenient, so he pulls from his bag a simple sheet of loose-leaf paper. She's all but confirmed his suspicions. Their concerns had been the same. That much is clear to him now. Whatever other reasons she's had to hide these facts from him, her small, fragile words have proved that much.

And at least, now knowing this, he can try to set her mind at ease.

But only if he's actually correct, though it seems incredibly unlikely that he's not. With everything he's seen and heard from her, the myriad of tells that would lose a poker player tournaments they've never even entered, the risk of his being wrong seems so diminished as to be absent.

And his next question is harmless enough that, if somehow he's still completely wrong in this, at least he can play it off as a lame joke.

"Do you believe in magic?"

The words, spoken in a soft yet serious tone, snap her eyes open, and her head up, forcing her gaze to meet his. His serious, yet reassuring smile that reveals the question is exactly what it sounds like. That even though she's said nothing, somehow she's given herself away, and that he knows. But what she'd expected to feel, dread, terror, panic, like her world was crumbling around her, isn't there.

Instead, for his gentle expression, it's a warm sense of relief washing over and through her.

Still, she has to blink heavily, in part because her eyes snapped so wide they went dry.

"Real magic, Sakura. Do you believe that real magic is a thing?"

"Ah… S-Senpai…?" Still, she has to be sure. To know for certain if he's asking seriously. He's made jokes before. Who hasn't? But never one like this. "Real… magic?"

Shirou nods. "I think you do. You don't have to hide it…"

As he speaks, his eyes drift closed, and he shakes the paper in his hand straight, holding it stiff so it sticks out. Behind his eyes, in his mind, the darkened silhouette of the strange, unfirable revolver comes into focus.

Out of reflex, his lips part as he reaches out toward the strange effigy's trigger.

"Trace… On."

Sakura's eyes widen further, and her mouth falls open. By chance, she's seen him practice, but she'd always kept herself hidden, so he never knew about it. So seeing it this close, there's a certain anticipation building in her chest that makes it hard to breathe.

The trigger depresses, and the hammer clicks in place. Shirou's mouth remains a steady, calm smile as his circuit opens in response. It's still not the most comfortable thing, the burning heat it brings with it, but it's much faster, and he can tell before the silent sound in his mind reaches his ears that it worked.

"—Basic structure, analyze."

The words feel needless. It's a piece of paper. One of the simplest things on the planet. Still, his mind's eye perceives its nature in great detail. Not that there's a lot to report. It's paper. Simple, bleached white paper made from fibrous wood pulp pounded and pressed into a flat sheet and cut into a manageable size.

"—Composition, analyze."

Still, for what he's about to do, he has to know it inside and out.

Even if the inside is so thin it could slice skin.

It's working better than I could have hoped. I'll definitely have to remember to thank Illya when I see her again…

"—Basic structure, alter."

Briefly, the paper in his hand glows a luminous green just a second before it would flop over, and it fully stiffens. Shirou opens his eyes and looks at it. It's still bent between his thumb and forefinger, so it would remain rigid, but as he relaxes his grip on it, its form remains stiff, and he smiles as he shakes it.

It doesn't last long, and as before, in the shed, the magical energy he'd poured into it evaporates into the morning air, and the paper falls limp in his hand.

Shirou blinks at it, then palms his face, groaning.

"Aw, man! Come on…!" His mouth falls open, and he slumps forward, shaking his head and crumpling the paper into a ball in frustration. "I was so sure it worked this time! Damn it…? Huh?"

He's not left long to lament another in a long string of failed attempts before a light giggle catches in his ears. He looks up to see Sakura's worried frown gone, her eyes squinting closed as she holds her hand to her mouth, her entire form shaking as she tries to suppress her laughter.

Amused, relieved laughter.

Shirou breathes out his own deeply relieved sigh.

Still, as he rubs his hand across the back of his head, he has to avert his gaze, which is heavy with disappointment and shame. Failing when no one's around to witness is embarrassing enough. But doing so now, when he'd in some small way been trying to show off, goes a step beyond, into the realm of abject humiliation.

On the other side, Sakura's mind has cleared some. Behind the veil, which has been pulled back cleanly, something unexpected is revealed. That her worried concern, like so many over the past day, proved unfounded.

And that they now have one more thing in common.