Of Swords and Redemption

by Saber is a Cutie

He had failed. The grail had been closed but at the cost of everything he held dear. Now, reborn in a new world, Emiya Shirou was left to contemplate the horrors and failures that had befallen him. He had deluded himself in believing he could escape from destiny. There was only one path left for him: to be the sword he had always been fated to be.

5. Chapter 5

The normally lively Greyrat house sat in silence, an ominous aura engulfing the household. There had always been a sort of strain within the family due to Zenith and Paul's refusal to meet eye to eye regarding certain matters, but it had slowly simmered down to a mild and more bearable weight that constantly burdened the two parents. However, this particular brand of unease was far more palpable, and the tension was thick enough that even I could notice it. Off to my side, Sylphiette was anxiously fidgeting, her feet shuffling in place and her hands clenching and unclenching air. I couldn't really blame her; the sort of atmosphere in the house right now was no place for a young girl like her. Especially since she had done nothing wrong, and she was, quite frankly, just collateral in this turn of events.

And the cause for such a disruption in the Greyrat household? None other than myself, of course. Fate wouldn't have it any other way.

Sylphiette and I were standing in the hallway of the second floor of the house. To my other side was the door to the master bedroom, the smooth and unassuming wood not betraying the chaos and tension on the other side. It has been closed for the past hour, not once opening since then, but from the clattering of bowls, splashes of water, and quiet hum of Zenith's healing magic, I could imagine what was going on in the other side.

After my unexpected trauma-induced breakdown, Paul had quickly fallen unconscious, succumbing to his injuries and slumping to a heap on the ground. His collapse had broken me out of my shock and spurred me to action, and after much difficulty and liberal application of reinforcement, I was able to drag the large man to the house.

Zenith's scream of panic was forever carved into my mind, Paul's name escaping out of her mouth in a sharp shrill. To her credit, Zenith's terror didn't last very long, and surprise had given way to years of veteran adventuring experience, muscle memory taking over while her mind worked in overdrive. She had quickly slung his other shoulder over hers, and we had hoisted him up the stairs together and placed him onto their bed. Lilia had not been idle during the process, swiftly cleaning the broken plates Zenith had dropped before gathering a bowl of water and rags. By the time we had set Paul down, she was waiting for us at the side of the bed and a wet cloth to clean the blood that flowed from Paul's mouth and nose.

After that, Zenith had gone to work, muttering a quick incantation before those familiar glowing hand settled on Paul's chest. At the very least, she looked composed, the chaos of her emotions barely visible from a bystander's point of view. Unsure of what to do next, both in terms of helping the recovery process and explaining exactly what had happened, I had hastily excused myself from the room before meeting a panic-stricken Sylphiette. She had bombarded me with questions, and I kept my responses short and vague, not exactly lying but not being completely truthful either, a moral loophole that Archer would have been proud of me exercising. Sylphiette had picked up on my reluctance to answer and had settled for staying by my side in silence the entire time. Meanwhile, my brows were furrowed in thinking, trying to pick and claw through my brain for answer on what had happened.

Had my mental distortion reached even greater levels? Was I becoming a threat to the people around me? Would offing myself be a good idea?

Alas, I had many questions but far too little answers, and in the end, I had decided to meditate and ponder more later. For now, the topic of Paul's health and the upcoming discussion were more pressing matters, and it was those subjects that currently plagued my mind.

There was no way around it. I was no expert, but in my opinion, the tentative balance in the household was too broken to be repaired—at least, completely. Between my rather unique and erratic behavior, Zenith's dwindling sanity, and now this incident, one way or another, Zenith and Paul would need to decide for themselves: to continue working through this mess of emotions and hardship or cut their losses and separate altogether.

I let out an exasperated huff, annoyed that things were crashing down so quickly. Turmoil followed me everywhere I go, though I wasn't surprised by this point.

I focused my hearing and heard nothing through the door. Hopefully Paul had stabilized by now and would make a quick recovery. I didn't know much about the extent of Zenith's healing abilities, so this injury would be a good baseline to assess it. I didn't diagnose Paul's injury, but just from what I remember, the feeling of bone and tissue breaking underneath my sword, wooden or not, as well as the amount of force I put on the follow-through, I would guess at least a few ribs broken and several more bruised, a broken sternum, and damage to most of the internal organs in the torso. While this body was small, I had not held back in that strike, and my body was reinforced to the very brim in that moment. Had my sword been real, and the wooden blade held an edge of steel instead, I don't doubt that I would have sliced straight through Paul.

I stepped in front of the door, one hand forward and extended, clasping the doorknob in my fingers but not actually opening the door.

Hesitation gripped me, and not for the first time since arriving in this world, I questioned whether or not I should really be here.

Was it even right for me to show up? I was the one who put Paul in this condition in the first place, and while I never explained it to Zenith, I'm sure she can come to her own conclusions.

How would she react, I wonder, once she saw me? Zenith had always looked at me lovingly, like I was on a pedestal and the rest of the world was secondary to me. Would those eyes, which had been brimming with love and affection, burn with betrayal and grief at having the fragile balance of her life broken in such a violent manner? Or would they freeze over with apathy and indifference, the burden and stress of the world proving too much for her as her heart numbs itself to protect her? Or maybe the correct choice was to not even enter the room in the first place, recognizing that this incident has lost me my right to be in this house and abandon them, leaving Paul and Zenith to reconcile and heal without my troublesome self.

So many choices but not nearly enough wisdom to choose the correct one.

In the end, I chose to face the issue head-on, and mustering a great deal of willpower, I twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

Frigid blue eyes zeroed on me immediately, their owner's head whipping around at breakneck speeds at the source of the disturbance. I instinctively flinched, my hand clutching onto the doorknob just a little too hard for my liking. My other hand went to my chest as my heart skipped a beat from the familiar suffocating feeling of danger.

I wasn't even the least bit surprised from the accusatory gaze cast upon me. I deserved it after all.

It was a stark contrast from earlier, when Zenith's eyes had been full of love, and while I had pondered on if they would remain or not, seeing the results for myself, even if they were expected, brought a frown to my face. I let out a silent, regretful sigh before tearing my eyes away from hers, unwilling to peer into that ocean of ice any longer than I had to.

Off to the side, I had noticed Lilia giving me a glance earlier, though hers was more questioning and curious compared to Zenith's, but I could still sense a hint of trepidation. I couldn't fault her though; I knew she was always a bit wary around me, though she always seemed to support me in the end, and I doubt me bringing in an injured Paul, who was no slouch of a warrior himself, helped her viewpoint of me.

A basin of water was sitting on the end table, half-full and discolored in red with blood as Lilia repeatedly wringed a rag over the container before dipping it back in. She gingerly wiped at the small trinkles of blood near Paul's mouth, carefully dabbing at the ribbons of crimson adorning his face. Her expression was tense yet calm, perhaps showing her employer a degree of warmth beyond mere professionalism.

On Paul's other side, Zenith was seated on a chair, her hands alight with the green mystical glow of healing magic as they hovered over Paul's chest. The rise and fall of his chest were much calmer now, no longer heaving and jerking unhealthily. In comparison to when I first dragged him into the house, he looked significantly better, all thanks to his faithful wife that had vigilantly nursed him back to good health. It spoke significantly of Zenith's character that it had taken only a glance for her to cross over to Paul with more urgency and speed than I had ever seen the woman with, barreling with no hesitation towards the man that had pushed her away. How would Paul react, I wonder, that the same woman he had accused of cheating on him all those years ago is the same one at his side now, working fervently to support him when he needed it the most.

Well, relations between them seemed to have improved since that night, so I doubted his feelings now were the same as back then. And I'm sure deep down, Paul would take back those words if he could. Just like me, Paul is straightforward and never quite uses his head as much as he should.

Silence permeated the room, the heavy atmosphere bearing down upon the inhabitants of the Greyrat household, save for the light humming of healing magic as Zenith's palms were pressed against Paul's chest.

There were no words exchanged, yet despite the lack of talking, I already knew what was going through the heads of the two women in front of me. Not that talking would have done me much good anyway. I was never a good communicator, and misunderstandings were plentiful in my past life, and that's before the issue that I had no idea what to say in the first place. There was no defense I could put up, not that I wanted one anyway. Their suspicions go back much further than today, and this incident was merely the cherry on top of a large pile of inexplicabilities.

Ahhh, I've really screwed this up, haven't I?

I turned my attention to Paul, watching the peaceful rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest as my brows furrowed together in remorse and regret. Whether or not Zenith and Lilia—Paul too when he wakes up—could be persuaded that I wasn't a psychopathic killer, I wasn't sure. Still, while the injury itself didn't faze me at all—moreso the implication of my actions—perhaps now was the time to put the mask of a proper four year-old and show that while I'm abnormal, I didn't mean them harm.

However, that fact didn't help mitigate at Zenith's scathing glare at all, somehow both scalding hot and unbearably cold at the same time, and even now I could sense her gaze out of the corner of my eye, trying its best to burn a hole through me before she ceded and turn her attention back to her patient. Lilia noticed the interaction between us and gave me an apologetic smile, though even that gesture was unsurprisingly tinged with uncertainty and hesitation.

That's fine. They seemed content to just silently accept what happened. It was befitting considering the mountain of mistakes I had already made. After all, in the face of the mountain of crimes I had made in the past, what was one more?

"He'll make a full recovery. The damage was mostly internal, and the amount of blunt trauma was severe, but I was able to repair most of the damage." Her tone was distant, and I wasn't sure who exactly she was talking to. I looked at her to respond, but she had already turned back to Paul, focusing on healing him.

I let out an appreciative hum; to be able to heal Paul's injuries like that, Zenith must have been very skilled. Of course, it paled in comparison to the healing I was used to, Avalon outclassing the healing magecraft Zenith used, but the Divine Mystery of the Fae wasn't exactly something that could be taught or passed down easily. To be honest, I wasn't even sure if it even worked at this point, my connection to Saber and my previous world gone. With that in mind, learning some healing spells wouldn't be a terrible idea, provided I was even able to in the first place.

"Is there any lasting damage?" Lilia asked.

Zenith continued gazing down and away from me.

"I'm not skilled enough to heal all the damage, but with some time, Paul should be fine."

Her voice was quiet and subdued, her tone fatigued and face resigned, but whether it was from the strain of healing Paul or processing what had happened, I wasn't sure.

I nodded, unsure what else I could really say. Do I explain what happened now? Or would I talk myself into a corner? But if they themselves don't bring it up and I remain quiet, would this incident hang over our heads and burden their minds until it was resolved? I had already ruined this family just by existing; do I dare risk worsening the situation in an attempt to fix it?

I wouldn't put it past Zenith to pressuring me into talking. In fact, I expected it; when Sylphiette and I arrived at the house, it had been her to make me talk. It had been the first thing that came out of her mouth as soon as I got back.

So why wasn't she doing anything besides idly healing Paul? She was so… muted, a far cry from the enthusiastic and energetic woman I knew. Was the stress of the situation sapping away at her energy? Ah, I supposed that not everyone was as… numb to these types of circumstances as much as me. But Zenith was a seasoned adventurer… surely something like this wasn't enough to faze her, right? Or maybe I was giving her too much credit, and she wasn't as strong as I thought.

No, that wasn't fair to her, especially since the cause of her weakness is none other than me.

"Shirou, if I may ask, can you please explain what happened?"

In the end, it was neither Zenith nor I who brought up the topic, but instead the ever-helpful maid. Her tone was polite and neutral, bearing no hint of accusation at what may have happened to Paul. When I shifted my eyes to her, Lilia's gaze was instead lingering on Zenith's troubled and hesitant expression. I'm sure she had a better idea of what was going on inside the woman's head than I did, and no doubt she had asked me the unspoken question that we were all thinking of in Zenith's place.

I froze slightly at her question. Should I be honest? I doubt I could lie. Not only was I not very good at it, but Paul could easily refute any lies I say once he wakes up.

"I… I lost control. Paul and I were sparring, and I went too far. I'm sorry…" The regret in my voice was sincere, and hopefully they could look past their possible notions of me and see that.

"You lost control?" Lilia questioned my words. Off to the side, Zenith was listening intently to our conversation, looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she focused on Paul.

"Yes… I felt a sudden rush power near the end of my duel with Paul, and I wasn't able to contain it properly. The result of what happened is as you can see," I explained, gesturing to the incapacitated man on the bed.

I wasn't quite lying nor was I being entirely truthful. Yes, I did experience a burst of energy at the end of the fight, but I hid the fact that it originated from the upswelling of emotions from buried memories that decided to resurface in that moment. I couldn't hide the fact that something abnormal happened, but at least this way, they wouldn't know the part that exposed me as a reincarnated dimension-hopping alien. Since magecraft was already present in this world, they would hopefully come to their own conclusions and see this incident as a release of my latent magical energy. While I would have preferred keeping my abilities hidden for longer, this bit of trickery was far better than the alternative.

The fact that I was doing this made me sick. Navigating conversations like this was something Archer would do. Half-truths to absolve myself the guilt of lying was a common tactic Archer employed to hide his knowledge during the war, not just from me but also from Tohsaka as well. As always, the idea that I was becoming more like him left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"A burst of power?" Lilia cocked her head in thought.

"Yes. I struck Paul with far more power and speed than I thought was possible. I'm not sure how else to explain it."

"Hmm, I'm not too knowledgeable in these matters; Paul would be a far better resource. However, I have heard that exceptional warriors are able to harness mana to strengthen themselves. Perhaps that is what caused this?" Lilia suggested.

I jumped on the opportunity.

"Maybe. All I felt was a rush of power—"

"No, I don't think that's it."

I slammed my mouth shut at Zenith's interruption, and the docile woman turned towards me as I internally panicked. Her eyes bore into mine, and as much as I wanted to look away, those blue orbs commanded I return her gaze. We locked eyes, and I could feel her prying into my mind, scrutinizing every fiber of my being. Whether she was successful or not, I couldn't say as her face remained neutral throughout the entire time, and it unnerved me to no end what she could possibly be thinking.

"Does she know?"

"Paul's mentioned it to me, I believe. The hidden power that Lilia's referring to. I've seen him use it myself, after all. It's certainly possible that Shirou and Paul could share whatever it is," she conceded.

She paused, letting her words in the air for a moment.

"But I can't say for certain. We can ask Paul for more information when he wakes up. I'm sure he knows more about this than we do."

Lilia nodded in confirmation.

"I agree. Shirou is a special boy, and you can never be too sure with him…" Lilia trailed off, letting the rather mild accusation hang in the air.

I contemplated their words. This is about as close as these two have come to acknowledging my rather unusual behavior and capabilities. If they thought I was a prodigy, that would be fine – it was bound to happen eventually – but I had to make sure that's all they suspected. If they figured out I was actually an adult in a child's body, they might just abandon me while calling me demon-spawn.

Wait, isn't that what I want?

I mean, I certainly wouldn't blame them for forsaking me in that situation, and it would solve their issues with their rather troublesome son if I was to just, hypothetically, disappear.

"Shirou, thank you, for giving me another chance."

Ah, but Paul wouldn't very happy. Even now, his genuine smile filled me with guilt, and I purged the image from my mind before it could make me doubt myself further.

"…He is indeed," Zenith agreed, and I sighed at the deeper meaning behind their words.

"I'm standing right here, you know."

I couldn't quite tell the atmosphere in the room right now. Lilia's words were fairly lighthearted, and while she accepted that there were some extenuating circumstances right now surrounding me, it seemed her fears had abated. As for Zenith…

The woman's lips were drawn in a tight line, and her brows were furrowed as she continued contemplating the situation. She had turned back away from me, content to just look at Paul as she resumed her healing efforts.

I truly didn't know what to make of anything that was happening right now. All this manipulation and hiding was far above me, and at the rate I was going at, it was going to crumble soon, if they hadn't seen through it already.

Lilia smiled apologetically at me. "Ah, sorry, Shirou. It was a bit rude. No doubt you're shaken up from this ordeal as well." An ordinary child would certainly be confused and scared in my current circumstances. An unknown and uncontrollable power that is capable of harming people close to you? It was a recipe for disaster, and Lilia was right to make her concerns known. However, while I wasn't completely sure, I knew far more about what happened than they did, so I wasn't quite as shook as she made me out to be. But then again, she's already hinted she knew more than she let on, so perhaps her words weren't as genuine as they sounded like.

Still, I wasn't going to let the chance she gave me go to waste.

"Yes. I need to think about what happened. And I'll let Paul heal in peace. When he wakes up, please let me know as soon as possible." I was concerned, of course, but I also wanted to be there when he first wakes up, so I can know what he says when he is inevitably interrogated by Zenith and Lilia. Call it callous, but it was for the best.

"Of course. You're no doubt scared and confused. Don't worry, Paul will be fine," Lilia smiled reassuredly. "And as for you, it's okay. You're not in any trouble."

Lilia's eyes flickered to Zenith, fast enough to make me doubt it happened it all, before returning her sights onto me. Meanwhile, Zenith remained silent and kept her eyes away from us, focusing on her work.

Lilia saw where my gaze landed.

"Accidents happen, Shirou. Now, I believe that it's getting late. Why don't you take this opportunity to escort Sylphiette back home?"

Lilia gestured to the little girl who clung to the back of my shirt like her life depended on it. She was being her usual shy and timid self, and she had kept behind me throughout the entire time, afraid to enter the room. Well, perhaps the fact that she was able to stay so close to me was a good sign she still trusted me.

"Um, I want to be there when Paul wakes up," I protest half-heartedly, though it sounded weak even to my ears.

"Paul will be fine. By the time he gets back, he'll probably have awoken, so you have something to look forward to. Well—" she glanced behind me meaningfully "—if the opportunity to be all alone with Miss Sylphiette isn't enough already," she teased, her eyes shimmering mirthfully.

"Eep!" Sylphiette squealed and pressed herself further into my back. I let out an awkward laugh and then looked at Lilia admonishingly.

"Please don't tease Sylphiette. She's a bit… fragile."

If anything, I just put more fuel into the fire.

"Ara? Coming to her defense, hero?" she further ribbed.

I huffed at her words.

"Funny. Let's go, Sylphiette." I turned around and out of the room, content to leave the conversation where it ended. I inhaled a particularly deep breath, relieved that I was free from the suffocating tension in the room. Between my concern for Paul, Zenith's strange behavior, and my own worries about my future, there was too much going on for me to process and think about. Thankfully, Lilia seemed content to play mediator and act as a buffer between myself and Zenith.

Well, whatever happens in there while I'm gone is out of my hands. I would just need to roll with the punches. Meanwhile, I had other things to take care of.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I assure you they aren't always like that," I said, turning towards Sylphiette and curling my lips upwards to alleviate her anxiety. If what had occurred was enough to affect me, an innocent soul like Sylphiette would surely have been rattled to some extent. "They're just worried for Paul."

"I-I hope Mr. Paul will be okay…"

I ruffled her hair.

"He will be. Zenith is a skilled healer, and she says Paul will make a full recovery. Trust her. I assume your foot is feeling much better?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Zenith wasn't the kind of person to cut corners.

She nodded demurely. "M-M-Miss Z-Zenith is very good…"

I nodded in affirmation.

"Alright, let's go"

"O-O-O-O-O-Okay."

I nodded at her and led her back down the stairs. While there were some unexpected developments, Sylphiette was healed, so my primary reason for bringing her to my house was completed. As for everything else… well, it didn't concern her, so there was no need to drag her into my problems. For now, I just needed to return Sylphiette to her family. In the chaos of the incident, Sylphiette had stayed a bit longer than I anticipated. Her parents must be worried sick about her.

We stepped outside of the house, and the cool evening breeze greeted us. It was a nice surprise after all that just happened. The sunset had just begun, so the sun was still peeking out over the horizon, bathing the world in a warm orange light.

I turned to the person behind me.

"Well, shall we get going, Sylphiette?"

I apparently took her by surprise—strange, considering that she had been staring at me before I turned around to look at her—and she lets out another squeal.

"Um, I-I-I don't know…w-where my house is…"

I raised an eyebrow. To be fair, I did just drag her to the outskirts of the village to the Greyrat household with no prior warning.

"Do you remember where I helped you? If we know where your house is from there, we can just return to that spot and then go to your house from there," I suggested.

"Um…s-sure…" She took a bit of time to process my words, but my reasoning made sense to her.

"Alright, let's go."

I started my way down the hill the house was situated on. Sylphiette was right behind me, though she was fairly lost in her thoughts, judging from the way her head was down and eyes were glazed over. She clearly was not actually present in the moment. It wouldn't be an issue though; there was plenty of time for contemplation since it would take a while for us to get to our original meeting spot. By the time she would get back to her house, it would be well into the evening, and I would return to the Greyrats by nightfall.

Well, I was fairly used to the night anyway. I've discretely trained—not discretely enough, apparently—at night for a while now, and my body has had some time to adjust to it. My fatigue doesn't always set in in the evening now since my body expects an intense workout later. Well, I wasn't sure whether this strange routine I have come to be a mistake later in life, but I didn't have the desire nor luxury of thinking about long-term ramifications of my health. If it turns out to be a debilitating issue in the future, I could only hope I got some use out of this body before then.

I also already had a taste of constant exhaustion and midnight activities since the majority of the grail war took place at night to prevent as many possible witnesses as possible. It didn't quite work out for me, but at least some of the participants tried to keep the war as secret as possible. Alas, someone like Tohsaka believed in that rule a bit too much, costing her and us a few times. Her faith in the other masters led to some unfortunate events. Honestly, maybe having Archer as her servant was actually a blessing in disguise.

Ugh, am I seriously giving him credit?

Well, it was undeniable that Tohsaka, for all her talent and capabilities, suffered from some naivete. She needed someone like Archer, who had no qualms with shattering any notions of idealism with the cold heartbreaking truth, to help her stay grounded with reality in order to use her prodigious abilities to full use. Had Tohsaka been more cold-hearted and pragmatic, combined with Archer's wide array of deadly abilities, I could easily envision a war with them as the victors. Illyasviel was too emotional to make full use of Berserker, and I suffered from even more idealism and naivete as she did but was also far less capable. Caster and Lancer would've been significant threats, but the true test would have been Sakura. My Tohsaka had said she was willing to kill Sakura for the sake of the greater good, but considering how her life ended, that statement was more bravado than anything else.

Truthfully, the prospect of Tohsaka killing Sakura was simply incomprehensible to me, an image I simply couldn't create in my head. Perhaps Tohsaka was just incapable to being that cruel and soulless, and anything else would not be Tohsaka. Had she been more of a magus, then maybe we wouldn't have gotten along as well as we did, and we wouldn't have fallen for each other like we had.

If only…

"Ah… we're here, S-Shirou…"

Sylphiette's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I quickly took in my surroundings with a whirl of my head. In my reminiscing, I had completely lost track of time and my bearings, and I had mindlessly retraced my steps from earlier. I could still see remnants from the encounter I had with those bullies; the grass was still flattened, and the soil was fairly disturbed from the playground scuffles I had with those kids. Looking around me now, we were a bit past where I first met Sylphiette. Had she not reminded me, I probably would have kept walking on until I eventually realized my error, at which point I might have gotten lost.

"I see. I apologize for my carelessness," I said. She gave me a funny look before nodding in affirmation and pointing towards the village.

"My h-house is over there…"

I hummed in contemplation.

"Hmm, well, we've walked this far. No reason to stop now. Don't worry, I'll get you home without fail," I reassured her with a curl of my lips. She stammered and blushed before looking away, unsure how to respond.

Judging from the direction of her finger, her house on the other side of the village from the Greyrats, meaning we still had some time until we arrived. I would be arriving back at the house very late at this rate, though considering the atmosphere and developments since I was last there, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. This trip would give me plenty of time to step back and assess my options. There was so much to think about, and I was never the best at these things.

For an idiot like me, I needed to go through all my possible actions, both in the past and in the future, as carefully and thoroughly as possible. By not being there when Paul wakes up, I was essentially ceding any possibility of me warping the truth to my favor. I would need to work around what Paul would say to them, and without me there, he could say as much as he wants as truthfully as he wants.

Could I trust him? All my possible options from here on out all depended on him. Would Paul give me away, banishing me as a freak child? From his previous words and actions, I'd like to think not. But then again, I did bash in his chest, and nothing can change a man's mind like putting him in a state of near death, so I couldn't count on his protection.

Ah, I was thinking a few steps ahead. I haven't even considered how Paul would even interpret what had happened. He believed that my skills are due to his genetics and me observing him a few times. While the truth was a bit… further than he thought, it did explain my prodigious skills, at least enough to satisfy someone like Paul.

"Uh, S-Shirou… are you… okay…?"

I turned to the source of the voice, which turned out to be Sylphiette. During the course of our trip, she apparently had found my immediate side to be more comfortable than behind me, and now we were walking side by side, our hips a hair's breadth from touching each other. I mentally questioned the appropriateness of the closeness between us, but truthfully, I didn't mind all that much, and since Sylphiette herself was the one to initiate it, then it's fair to assume she was comfortable with it as well. If it made her happy, then there was no real reason to begrudge her for it. I could tell it took a lot of strength for her to move even this much out of her shell. In some ways, it reminded me of Sakura, who had taken a lot of time to get her to open up once again.

But then again, that hadn't ended particularly well either.

"I'm okay. Why, does it seem like something's wrong?" I said eagerly, not wanting to dwell on my current thoughts any longer.

"Uhh… you weren't talking… is all… I thought you… didn't like me…" she said dejectedly.

I silently berated myself.

"No, it's nothing like that Sylphiette," I softly assured, giving her a gentle upwards curve of my lips before taking a moment to find my next words. "You're great and wonderful to be around. I'm just thinking about what happened with Paul. He'll be fine, but I'm not certain about things moving forward."

I didn't expect her to know what I meant, but it was the truth nonetheless. As long as Sylphiette understood it wasn't her that was the issue, then that's all that mattered. For someone as fragile as Sylphiette, I needed to make sure I didn't do anything to possibly compromise her mindset. I've been mostly silent during the entire time we've been walking, and while it was due to me being preoccupied with my thoughts, Sylphiette didn't know that. From her perspective, there was a chance I was actively avoiding talking to her, which was most definitely not the case.

"B-B-But you're family…" she trailed off, deeming the short statement a sufficient explanation.

Her words lingered in my mind, biting at my conscience like a mosquito. Perhaps my silence after her words was an answer in itself, and from the way Sylphiette's shoulders drooped in disappointment and her sudden downcast expression, she wasn't exactly happy.

"… F-Family is supposed to s-stick together…" She may have stuttered, her speech childish and words simple, but her message was no lesser because of it. In fact, her blunt and straightforward mindset strengthened it, the irrefutable logic forcing me to acknowledge her words.

I mentally sighed, firm in the belief that things couldn't be as frank as Sylphiette made it out to be yet not able to quite shake off the feeling that I was still missing something.

The issue was just another ramification of hiding who I truly was. I was not some blank slate that Zenith and Paul had raised from birth. My memories of my past life still clung to me, and I could hardly ignore them—or even worse: cast them away. I wasn't keen on throwing away what had defined me up to this point.

No, when I heard Sylphiette talk of family, my mind didn't shift to returning back to the Greyrat household. Instead, an upsurge of painful images floods my mind, of times long since passed. A large, traditional Japanese household, once empty but not filled with residents brought together by the most unlikely of circumstances. The thought of King Arthur, Medusa, and three prodigious magi gathering around a table to feast upon my own personal cooking was amusing to me now when previously, the idea was so preposterous that it bordered incomprehensibility. And that said meetings were rudely interrupted by an overly immature guardian like it was a cartoon cliché was perhaps even more bewildering, yet no less true.

The Greyrats housed me, yes. Zenith had given birth to me, true. But this life was mine didn't quite belong to them.

"Then leave them."

I should. My thoughts drifted to the image of a man, his tall frame standing over me, his broad shoulders facing me and covering my entire vision. Crimson cloth fluttered in the wind, the buffeting breeze enough to force me to cover my eyes. His head turns towards me, steel-grey peering at me out of the corner of eyes, silently judging and regarding me. His mouth moves, but his words were lost to the wind.

The vision ends, and I frowned as even in a new life, I couldn't escape my mind being plagued by him.

Being a hero meant that one day, I would need to match him, throwing away everything so I could stand by his side. Surpassing him was impossible; the crimson and black servant was the pinnacle of Emiya Shirou, the living embodiment of the ideals he sought, and trying to be greater than him was an impossible and futile effort.

No, there was no use defying myself. I was destined to take his place, to be another cog in the wheel of fate.

I was still a far cry from reaching my peak. I was still weak, and my resolve was as fragile as a heart of glass. I had slipped up earlier with Paul, allowing myself to succumb to my emotions. I said it myself. Even if it meant living the life of a machine. To be a Hero of Justice, I had to crush such weakness.

Yet inexplicably, I felt that I was somehow betraying myself even further.

"I-I-I don't know much…" Sylphiette admitted, "b-but mommy and d-daddy always told me t-that n-no once can replace f-family…"

I let her words simmer in my mind before nodding.

"That's right, Sylphiette. I couldn't agree more."

She blinked owlishly, bemused at my abrupt acceptance, accepting my silence as a refusal to elaborate on my words.

We continued in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. The sounds of a village getting ready for its slumber filled in the air as its inhabitants prepared their last chores and for the start of a new day tomorrow. Tools were put away, animals herded back to their pens, and the crops were being checked on for the last time. Sylphiette slowly grew more confident in her surroundings, having taken the lead and walked slightly in front of me.

Right as the sun finished setting, only the dimmest of rays peeking out over the horizon, we arrived at Sylphiette's house. The bustling of the village had slowly faded out as we neared the end of our journey, bathing us in silence by the time we had arrived.

Her house was, quite frankly, average. It was completely plain looking, just a standard two-story dwelling. It was exactly how I imagined a medieval European house to look like, and it was built from the same cookie-cutter template as the rest of the houses in the village. It was smaller than the Greyrat's household, which made sense since Paul was the village's knight, so he was able to afford more luxurious accommodations. Nevertheless, it was a still a humble and cozy house, befitting of someone like Sylphiette.

"U-U-Umm, t-t-thank you for w-w-walking me back. Y-You can go b-back n-now-S-S-SHIROU?!"

I knocked twice on the front door, my knuckles making deep thumps on the wood. In a split second, the door swung open so fast that I feared for the safety of the hinges.

"SYLPHIETTE?! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

An Elven man greeted me. His hair was the same shade as Sylphiette's, his long heavy bangs framing his face. He was tall and slim, not skinny but definitely not as built as Paul. His hands held clear evidence of his training, many callouses and small scars littering palm, meaning he was some kind of soldier or a field laborer at the very least. His face was rugged, but not rough, and if it wasn't for his frantic and paranoid expression, he could even be considered handsome. Said expression had settled on me for a split second before they focused on Sylphiette, who was meekly hiding behind me while giving the man an embarrassed smile.

"Ah, hello…Papa..."

"Sylphiette, do you know what time it is?! I've been worried sick!" the now-identified man exclaimed.

I stepped forward slightly, making sure to cover Sylphiette with my body as I subtlety held an arm out to make sure she stayed behind me.

"Good evening, Mister. I was just escorting Sylphiette back to her house. I presume you are her father?" I asked.

His eyes rounded on me, and a familiar tingle was sent up my spine.

"Oh? And who are you, brat?" he questioned, blatantly looking me up and down. From his scoff, he didn't seem too impressed with what he found.

"Emi—umm, Shirou… Shirou… Greyrat…"

"Greyrat?" He tilted his head in thought before widening his eyes in realization. "Oh, you're Paul's kid…" he trailed off, unsure how to approach me. His fiery attitude had been doused abruptly, and I was left with a significantly quieter and timid man. At the very least, I knew where Sylphiette got her demeanor from.

"Correct. I've been with Sylphiette all day. I apologize for having taken her without notifying you previously. I've taken the liberty of escorting her back to her home and making sure she is safe," I explained.

Law blinked owlishly at me, unknowingly repeating the same gesture Sylphiette did earlier, and I mentally smirked at the likeliness.

"Wow, I guess he wasn't kidding…"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Who wasn't kidding?"

The man had the decency to at least look extremely embarrassed.

"Uh, don't worry about it!" He said hastily, laughing waving off my question.

I gave him an unimpressed stare.

"I see. Well, if you don't mind, may I please enter your home? I'm sure you're concerned about your daughter. I can explain where she's been for the past several hours," I offered, looking straight into his eyes to show how serious I was.

The poor man seemed a lot less sure of himself, and an audible gulp was heard as a bead of sweat trailed down from his forehead.

"Uhh… sure…"

My lips broke out into a polite smile, satisfied at my trap being sprung.

"Excellent."

Sylphiette looked at us worryingly, her eyes darting back and forth between me and her father at frightening speeds before her mouth dropped to the ground in realization of what was happening.

"S-S-S-SHIROU'S COMING INSIDE?!"

At a speed fast enough to make Rider raise an eyebrow, she dashed inside of the house and out of my line of sight, though I could hear her stomping up the stairs and slamming a door closed. A cacophony of objects being thrown around followed, almost as if she was… cleaning…?

Sylphiette's father coughed awkwardly.

"Anyway, let's head inside. My wife would probably want to hear you out too."

---

True to my previous observation, the interior of the house wasn't extravagant by any means. It was definitely a bit more compact and spartan compared to the Greyrat's, but the overall theme and design was the same. To my right was the kitchen, where I could see a woman busying herself with a pot that was seated over a fire. The lid was slightly ajar, and a blend of amazing fragrances, some scents familiar while others were entirely foreign to me, wafted throughout the house.

Noticing us stepping through the door, the woman, who was perhaps around half a head's height shorter than Sylphiette's father, turned around, and just a passing glance at her face made it obvious she was Sylphiette's mother. She wasn't an elf, and unless there were other races of people I was unaware of, she seemed human. She had long hair that was tied up in a high ponytail, falling over onto her back in a curtain of warm, inviting brown. Her face shared a number of similarities to Sylphiette's, from her small, petite nose, soothing hazel eyes, and demure lips. In fact, Sylphiette definitely seemed to share her mother's face moreso than her father's.

She gave me a gentle smile, one charming enough to melt the hearts of the vast majority of men.

"Oh my? I didn't know Sylphiette was bringing home such cuties already." She brought up her hand to cover her exaggerated gasp of surprise, but I could see the glimpse of a smile tugging at her lips. Mischief danced in her eyes, clearly very amused by the current situation, and just from my past experience with females, I knew that this woman was going to be the cause of many headaches.

"Hello. I am… Shirou Greyrat. It's a pleasure to meet you." I gave her a court nod. If anything, that shine in her eyes grew even brighter, and from the widening pit in my stomach, I knew that I had made a mistake.

"Aww, aren't you just the most adorable thing." She immediately dropped the ladle she was using to stir the pot, and in the blink of an eye, my vision was completely obscured by brown as I was hoisted upwards. My breathing had to be put on hold as she proceeded to stuff me in her rather—ahem—bountiful chest, suffocating me in a valley of flesh and fat. She shook herself—and by extension, me—rapidly from side to side, her hand on the back of my head applying even more pressure as if she was trying to forcefully assimilate my body with hers in some grotesque horrific fashion.

"Uhh, Alice, I think you're killing him…?" I heard from behind me.

"Oh lord, Law, can we keep him? Please? Pwetty pwease?" Oh god, she was doing baby talk now. I tried to escape my confines, but somehow this woman had the strength to keep me completely immobile. It was a perplexing phenomenon considering what happened with Paul earlier.

Law sighed, one so lethargic that it almost inspired me to jump off the nearest rooftop. It seemed that he was somewhat used to this behavior from her, though I guessed that she still found new ways to surprise him.

"We can't just kidnap Paul's child, Alice," he chided, but it seemed like a half-hearted effort considering he knew his words were going in through one ear and out the other.

"We can't?"

Law nodded gravely.

"We can't."

Alice made some strange guttural noise of disappointment, though I took notice that she made no attempt to put me down and let me go. Not for the lack of trying on my part, of course, considering my arms were futilely trying to push myself away from her.

"Well, I'm sure I can arrange something with the Greyrats. His wife is Zenith, right? How dare she, keeping this charming little child all to herself?" Thankfully, she freed me from my prison, but my freedom was quickly taken from me as I was put under assault. Alice raised me up to her face then started affectionately rubbing her cheek against mine like I was some overgrown puppy.

Since my head was forcefully turn to the side, I could see Law out of the corner of my eye. His expression was one of immense pity, but there was a hint of thankfulness to it, almost as if he was glad it was me suffering under Alice's attention rather than him. Since I wasn't exactly pleased with my current inhumane treatment, I couldn't really fault him for his choice. Regardless, I gave him a deadpan look, one that conveyed the lamentations of a man who had lost all hope for the future.

"Kill me," I silently mouthed to him, begging for him to spare me from this torture. Releasing me from this pain was worth any price, my life included—not that I valued it very much. Unfortunately, Law gave me a frantic shake of his head, scared that should he let me escape, the sadistic vixen would target him in my stead. I gave him a betrayed look, and my eyes burned with vengeance, promising that should I survive, I would remember his refusal to aid me and return my pain onto him tenfold—

"Cwan yjou pweese staahp?"

I pleaded with all my might, mustering every bit of childish cuteness inside of myself and throwing away any dignity or pride I could have had. Alas, my efforts were in vain in the face of my enemy, and she carried, now having moved onto pulling on my cheeks like it was some sort of clay for her to play with.

"Nope!" she denied cheerfully.

"I-I-I'm coming down!" a voice called out from the second floor, prompting the woman holding me to turn me around and hug me to her chest.

Sylphiette's lightly stomped down the stairs, showing up more presentable than when I last saw her. Her hair, having been cleaned previously, was freshly brushed. Looking at it now, while she inherited her mother's face, her elven features and hair were all from her father. Their vivid green hair and sharp Elven ears were matching to a tee, and since Sylphiette wasn't quite old enough to grow out her hair like her mother's, she definitely looked like a younger, effeminate version of her father.

Ah, but while she shared some of his traits, she did not inherit the primal instinctual fear of Alice that Law apparently did.

"M-M-Mom!"

Sylphiette ran over to me with a panic-stricken expression, having had the decency to recognize a person in need and act upon it. She grabbed onto her mother's arms, trying to release me from her grip, but Alice proved to be quite the immovable object.

"Oh, don't be like that Sylphiette! Shirou and I were just getting to know each other a bit better!"

To emphasize her point, she hugged me even tighter, and I could feel her chest swallowing me further.

"Don't kill my new friend!" That only seemed to motivate Sylphiette even further, having resorted to banging her tiny fists against her mother's arms. With a melodious laugh, Alice put down gently, making a show of wiping off any dirt and dust that may have somehow gotten onto me.

"Okay, okay. There, I let your little boyfriend go. See? Not a scratch on him," Alice said with an appeasing and amused smile.

"H-He's just a friend…!" Sylphiette stammered out, her face flushed red in embarrassment.

Alice raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her words.

"Sure... Well, you have to be careful still. You can't just be bringing random boys home. I know you have my charming face and smile, but with great power comes great responsibility!" she lectured cheerfully, finishing her words with a wink.

"That's right! You can't be dating yet," Law chimed in. All of a sudden, his face darkened, becoming the frightening visage of an overprotective father. "In fact, you will never date…"

Sylphiette made some weird groaning sound at her parent's antics, resorting to burying her face in her hands, the sharp shrill of her screams thankfully muffled.

Alice's eyes widened, and she covered her open mouth with a hand. "Or maybe, Sylphiette took on more from your mother than we thought, dear," she scandalously whispered across the room.

Law rolled his eyes. "Don't even joke about that."

With a giggle, she let go of the matter and turned towards me. "Well dear, we were just about to have dinner. Would you like to join us? I'm sure I can explain to Zenith why you're taking so long to drop off my daughter, and you can take your time regaling us about your escapades with my daughter, hmm?"

I let her offer sit in my mind for a bit. On one hand, getting back to the house and checking up on Paul was fairly important. On the other hand, did it really matter what Paul could potentially reveal? I'm sure they already had their own ideas about what was happening, and I doubt my words could even sway them. If I really was planning on leaving in the future, then whatever I did regarding them was ultimately irrelevant and inconsequential.

Right?

There was no need to help defend myself. Them deciding to cast me out worked perfectly fine for me. They would be gone and out of mind, just a blimp in the past. I would be in and out of their lives, just an ephemeral memory of a mistake they could learn from. They would try again, have a new child, and they would be happy, far happier than they ever could be with me. They would move on with their lives, embarking on a brand new chapter, not looking back, and I would go onwards with mine, towards a distant and fleeting dream. It was a win-win situation, the best possible result for everyone involved.

Right?

Yes, it was the correct course of action.

"Thank you, Shirou, for giving me another chance."

Just try for your dream with another child, Paul. It'll work out better, I assure you.

"Well, if you insist. It would be rude to decline such a generous offer. Don't worry about Zenith and Paul. I'll be sure to explain the situation to them." There was something I wanted to check out while I was here anyway.

Alice and Law looked at me, blinking once before turning to each other. There must have been some secret marriage telepathy technique since I've seen Paul and Zenith do the exact same thing.

Now that I think about it, they did act similar to the Greyrats.

"Good to hear!" Alice burst out happily. "Dinner will be ready soon. Sylphiette, would you like to show Shirou around the house?"

"… Um… O-Okay…"

Sylphiette pulled on my shirt, leading me out of the living room and deeper into the first floor. Truthfully, there wasn't much to see. She led to a bathroom, which was apparently just a bucket with water, and then to a storage room. The shelves were filled with dust-covered objects, long forgotten and abandoned. Random furniture lined the walls, some broken into pieces and others just unwanted and unused. All in all, the room was exactly what it looked like: a corner of the house that its inhabitants didn't want anything to do with. However, that made it perfect for…

"Shirou… what are you d-doing…?" Sylphiette questioned as I kneeled down to the ground, ear pressed against the floor as I tapped my knuckles intermittently against the wooden floor.

"Investigating."

Hearing a dull thump, I moved several centimeters before repeating the process, making sure that I would eventually cover the entire area of the floor. While it looked strange from an outsider's point of view, it was actually perfectly reasonable. In reality, I was testing for any hidden, hollow spaces in the ground. If there were any trapdoors, my knocking would reveal it.

Scrutinizing your neighbor's house for any hidden spaces was perfectly logical procedure, after all. The last time I neglected my civic duty, there was actually some weird worm rape dungeon run by some old man, and what followed afterwards did not have a particularly good ending.

Never again. That was the first and will be the last time I make that mistake.

"Umm...t-there's nothing here…"

"I'll be the judge of that."

After a few minutes, I finished my investigation, unfortunately coming up empty-handed. Standing up back, I turned towards the young girl and placed both hands on her shoulders, intensely locking my gaze firmly onto hers.

"Sylphiette, if you're ever in danger, just say so, and I'll be right there. Any time, any place. I'll protect you, I promise," I proclaimed, hoping that I could save her from any possible dangers that could befall on her in the future, or any possible ones she was experiencing right now.

Sylphiette's face blushed a bright scarlet red, and she immediately turned away. "U-U-Uh o-o-o-okay."

I held my stare for a moment longer, trying to instill the seriousness of my oath to her before letting her go. She almost seemed ready to collapse right then and there, her knees buckling and wobbling uncontrollably, but I managed to rush to her side and steady her with an arm around her waist.

"T-T-Thank y-y-y-you…" she said, not even managing to maintain eye contact while doing so. Still, it was the thought that counted.

Satisfied, I nodded and asked for her to move on with the tour, an opportunity she was quick to take.

There wasn't much more to explore, and it didn't seem right intruding on the bedrooms upstairs, so we opted to return to the living room. Law and Alice were in the kitchen talking in hushed whispers, but upon noticing us, they quickly stopped their gossiping and turned to us.

"Welcome back," Alice greeted warmly. "Dinner is ready, so come take a seat."

We quickly all took a seat at the table, with the heads of the household on opposite ends while Sylphiette and I ended up facing each other on the sides. Alice brought over a large bowl of stew along with a platter of bread. The stew was serviceable enough. It was fairly similar to a beef stew from back on Earth. The broth was a tad salty, but the flavor had a nice combination that was hearty and filling, perfect for a scrumptious meal in the evening before bed. The meat was definitely on the tougher side, a far cry from grade A5 Wagyu, but its flavor profile was close enough to beef that I still found it appetizing. The vegetables were cooked well, definitely tender but not so much that it was mushy. All in all, Alice was definitely a good cook, definitely on par with Zenith.

It was after the first few bites that I decided to do half of what I came here to do.

I coughed politely, bringing the attention of the entire table onto me. Setting down my utensils, I looked at Law straight in the eyes.

"Are you aware that Sylphiette was being bullied?"

The whole table clattered as Alice suddenly slammed her hands against it, standing up and sending her chair flying a good meter back. Law's reaction also was equally as extreme, the wooden spoon in his hand snapping in two, both pieces careening off to the corners of the room.

"WHAT?!" Law screamed, his eyes wide open and alight with vengeful fury. He took a glance at Sylphiette, and she immediately cowered back in fear, the sight of her father being so angry clearly a new one for her. Realizing the reaction he was eliciting from his daughter, the man took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down though I could still see a slight tremble in his hands.

"Explain," Alice said evenly, having reigned herself in as well. Evidently, the two parents cared very much for their daughter. Good.

"I came across her this morning when I was out exploring," I said. "She was being harassed by some boys. I successfully scared them off, but they were already bullying Sylphiette for some time by the time I arrived."

Both parents visibly seethed in anger.

"And these… boys... What were they doing to her?" Law asked, perhaps not quite wanting an answer but asking nonetheless.

"…Um… they… t-t-they—"

"They were being quite rough with her. Verbal and physical harassment. Slinging dirt at her. There were three of them. And that was just from when I arrived," I explain tersely.

Their faces twisted further into uglier glowers, the prospect of possibly even more harm coming to Sylphiette agitating them further. The intensity of their displeased auras was rather impressive, reminding me that a parent's wrath is something I'd prefer to avoid.

"Sylphiette, did they do anything else?" Law growled, his expression promising furious retribution onto those poor boys.

"… No…" she said meekly.

"Are you sure? Sylphiette, you can tell us anything, but we can't help if you don't tell us," Alice pleaded.

"N-No, they didn't do a-anything… just what S-Shirou said…" she said.

Both parents looked sternly at Sylphiette, trying to pressure her into confessing anything else that could have happened. The poor girl cowered back slightly but managed to meet their eyes, showing she was telling the entire truth. Seeing that their daughter didn't have anything else to say, Alice and Law relented the pressure, and they let out a relieved sigh. I didn't quite show it, but I was glad as well that nothing more happened to Sylphiette.

"I see. Well, first things first, I should thank you for rescuing my daughter," Alice said, smiling warmly at me in gratitude. Law gave me a firm nod, the universal gesture for men to show appreciation. Of course, I nodded back.

"It was nothing," I waved off.

"Oh, spare me the humility, Shirou. It most certainly wasn't nothing, and I'd like to think my daughter means more to you than that," Alice rebuked with a kind smile.

I rolled my eyes.

"What would I have done otherwise, just stand there? I couldn't just stand by and watch while Sylphiette was being bullied."

Alice shook her head in disagreement.

"Of course not. I wouldn't insult you by implying you would. I just want to properly thank you for your bravery and kindness."

I shrugged. "I'm just doing what anyone would have."

The woman raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in bemusement.

"You think so?" she questioned. "I know plenty of people who would have stood aside and watched. The fact of the matter is that you intervened and helped Sylphiette when most people aren't capable of such initiative. You were outnumbered, against people stronger and larger than you, and you still found it within yourself to step in." Alice was beaming at me, and the shine of her smile made me fidget in discomfort.

"What are you trying to say?" I narrowed my eyes at her, urging her to get to her point.

Her smile widened at my unease.

"Nothing. Just that you, as a child, showed more bravery and kindness than the vast majority of people. I've seen a lot of this world: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I've met lots of people too. Some of them good. Some of them evil. But most just being rather… normal, I suppose. A bit of kindness and a bit of cruelty. It's just the way things are. However, you, Shirou, I can most certainly say stand head and shoulders above the vast majority of people," Alice explained.

"I'm not that special. Trust me, I'm not at some precipice of virtue that you believe me to be in," I denied.

She shook in head in disagreement.

"Being a good person, when the odds are stacked against you, when there is no one there to judge you for standing aside, when there is nothing personal gain at stake, is the most difficult test of character. The fact remains that you have to go out of your way to be good because inaction is always easier than action, and when there's no reward for doing the right thing nor is there a punishment for doing the wrong one either, most people will choose the easier option of standing aside. But you, you didn't do that, and you helped someone with no regard for yourself. How could you possibly not see what you did?" she questioned. "Now, I may not be the most normal of people, but I think this occasion warrants some praise, no?"

I internally scoffed at her adoration. Zenith definitely didn't agree with her. In any case, I didn't need nor want her laurels. I substantially preferred not being put on any sort of pedestal. Regardless of Alice's words, I was not this pinnacle of morality she seemed to be under the delusion of. What had really moved my body was nothing more than the selfish wish of a child that didn't know what else to do. And to top it off, there was nothing noteworthy that I did. The fact of the matter is that I scared off a bunch of kids. I wasn't even capable of talking them down, forced to resorting to abusing my innate magecraft knowledge to handle the situation. In reality, I was the real bully.

I just let out an exhausted sigh and remained silent. She clearly could not be reasoned with, so there was no point in trying.

"I swear, if I ever find those rascals ever again, I'm going to make sure they don't try that shit again," Law threatened, brandishing a fist into the air. Suddenly, he looked at me. "Wait, do you remember what they looked like? I'm sure I can find out who they are if you tell me. I'm a guardsman, so I know a decent amount of people in this village," he said.

I shook my head at him.

"I'm afraid not. I didn't pay much attention to them, really," I confessed. "Besides, you don't need to track them down. I doubt they'll be causing trouble again."

Law raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

"What, did you cut off a limb or two?"

Alice shot him a dark look, and the man flinched.

"No, I just threw them around a bit. They'll be sure to remember what I did them today."

Those kids were young, and their minds were very impressionable and malleable. I would know. Giving them a traumatizing scare like what I did was a sufficient deterrent for the future.

"That's it? They were putting their filthy hands on my daughter! I at the very least want to yell at them and their parents!" Law exclaimed, but I could tell he wasn't being entirely serious. He jokingly slammed a fist onto the table. "Woe is me, justice has forsaken you, Shirou."

Golden orbs turned onto the man across the table, and the pressure they emitted was almost palpable to the denizens of the household. Law widened in eyes in surprise—and fear—as the suffocating tension in the air put him in a chokehold. Beads of sweat rolled down this forehead, yet he dared not breathe, afraid that the slightest movement would be his very last before he would be skewered and cut to ribbons, almost as if the very air itself was composed of swords pointed directly at him, ready to pierce him in an instant.

Instincts told him to flee, to run and not look back, and it took all his courage to not do just that. His eyes moved frantically in their sockets, trying to find the source of his unbearable pressure, before they found themselves settling onto the boy across the table. His stare was steely yet dispassionate, a facade of nonchalance hiding the veritable waves of darkness prowling and churning underneath. He coolly gazed upon the man, a gentle warning to not overstep his boundaries.

And then just as quickly as it came, the immense weight bearing down on Law's shoulders disappeared, and the man lurched forward and took a heaping intake of air into his starving lungs.

Sylphiette and Alice didn't have nearly as severe reactions, but they had definitely felt what had transpired in that moment between Law and I. Alice was guarded, sweating nervously as she looked around for… something, while Sylphiette was shivering uncontrollably.

Uh… whoops.

I took a sip of the water in front of me, letting the liquid refresh my parched throat before I set down the cup with a firm thud.

"What they did was terrible, but they're just kids." Really, what was I now, some kind of teacher? "They'll live, they'll learn, and they grow up. And if not, I'll take care of it." There would not be another Shinji, that much I promise.

I let my message sink into the entire family before standing up. I bowed to Alice and Law, thanking them for the meal before shooting Sylphiette a small grin. The family was too stunned to speak, preferring to sit in silence. Their expressions were mixed, ranging from Sylphiette's confusion to Alice's concern to an almost begrudging respect from Law.

Nevertheless, with my main purpose for having come here fulfilled, I exited out the house, beginning my trek back home.

---

Honestly, what was I even doing these days?

First the incident with Paul, then accidentally scaring Sylphiette's family. I wasn't always like this, but I suppose that I couldn't entirely go back to the way things were.

I didn't even get a chance to explain why we took so long to get her back, my eagerness to get out of there overtaking my rationality.

Hmm, that suicide option was becoming far more tempting…

My feet came down with a crunch, crushing a blade of grass, one of the few on the dirt pathway I was walking on, and I let out a sigh as I finally arrived back at the Greyrat's house. The building was plain and ordinary, nothing more than a medieval-era house, yet as it loomed over me like a towering castle, I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation.

I stepped forward to open the front door, my hands firmly grasping the knob. I pause for a second, letting my fingers and palm familiarize themselves with the sensation of wood on skin, committing the feeling of each fiber of wood to my mind.

Behind me was freedom, an entire world of possibilities. Free from the turmoil that I knew awaited me inside.

"Just a few steps, and you'll be free. Isn't that what you want, Emiya Shirou?"

This indecision would kill me one day.

I opened the door, almost expecting a horrific monster or overlording deity on the other side. Instead, cold silence greeted me, making me wish there was something to fight. The house was in the exact same state as I left it, indicating that the family was still upstairs. I closed the door behind me, cringing slightly when it made an audible thump as it closed.

So much for being discrete.

I looked up into the second floor, the long unassuming staircase leading into an ominous foreboding darkness. I stepped on it, the wood creaking beneath my feet as I placed my weight on it. I continued my ascent, each step as heavy as the last, a million thoughts racing through my head, but they left as quickly as they entered.

I stood in front of the master bedroom. I pressed my ear to the door, and I could hear some faint whispers on the other side, but they were too muffled and quiet to understand. I could have reinforced my ears to hear better, but I huffed internally at myself.

I was so unfazed before. What was I scared of now?

I knocked on the door twice, and I could immediately hear the hushed whispers stop. Taking that as sufficient notice, I entered the room. My eyes immediately gravitated to Paul, who had finally woken up. He was sitting upright on the bed, his chest wrapped in a massive bandage that crossed over from his shoulder to his waist. His face was slightly sunken, and I could see traces of fatigue in his expression with the way his eyes seemed a bit dimmer than before. His brows were furrowed in concentration, and his lips were closed and pulled into a tight line. Whatever they were talking about before, it obviously didn't put him in the brightest of moods. Well, that, and the matter of me injuring him, of course. Nevertheless, he looked fine for someone who was having debilitating health issues a few hours prior. He looked safe and on his way to being healthy from what I could tell, which was my primary concern.

Off to the side, Zenith was sitting on a chair beside the bed. She seemed to be in the middle of simmering in anger, her face twisted in an ugly scowl. Upon seeing me, her face settled into a conflicted expression before tearing her eyes from me.

Lilia, still prioritizing her duties, was busy cleaning rags in a basin in a corner of the room. Seeing me enter, she gave a small polite smile, nodding in acknowledgement before returning to her task.

I returned her gesture, grateful that the vigilant maid wasn't making herself one of my concerns. I couldn't say I was particularly surprised by Paul and Zenith's reactions, but I reap what I sow.

"And the hero returns! You finished walking your girlfriend back home?" Paul joked, breaking the silence that had settled upon everyone.

I rolled my eyes.

"Sylphiette is back home. I dropped her off to her parents then came back here."

Paul hummed in thought. "Well as long as she's safe. Did you catch their names? I'll need to apologize to them myself for keeping their daughter late when I'm better."

"Law and Alice, I believe. They were quite nice. Please don't bother them with your… usual self," I sarcastically chided.

"Law? Huh, what a small world…" Paul trailed off in thought.

Zenith pursed her lips.

"You know of him?"

He nodded.

"He's one of the guards that volunteered as part of the militia. He's mainly a hunter, but he asked for some shifts helping patrol and guard the village. I talk to him a good amount," Paul explained. "I can't say he ever mentioned his daughter's name but seeing as he's one of the few Elves here, it makes sense. As for his wife, I'm not very familiar with her."

"As you should be," Zenith remarked dryly. "I can't say I know much about them. Bring me along when you go. It'd look bad if I'm not there as well."

Paul smirked in amusement. "And I'm sure you're definitely not trying to set up a little playdate between the children."

Zenith's fist lashed out, burrowing itself into Paul's chest. The man keeled over to his side, groaning in agony at the low blow on his flesh wound.

"Careful, I brought you back to the land of the living. I can just as easily take you out of it," Zenith warned.

The only response she got was another groan.

"Please do be careful, Lady Zenith. While I'm sure Paul loves you and is smart enough to not go frolicking off with other women, he is still, unfortunately, a man," Lilia intoned gravely.

"Oh come on!" Paul said, sitting back up. "I wouldn't cheat. You act like I would just fuck anything with a pulse and a hole between its legs!"

His remark made Lilia and Zenith raise their eyebrows unimpressed, making the man seethe even harder.

"I hate all of you," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

"As long as you keep it in your pants," Zenith reminded.

"Where's the trust?" he whined. The man-child turned towards me. "Welcome to marriage, kiddo. You can do everything right but still fuck up somehow. Can't win 'em all," he shrugged.

"Please do not corrupt Master Shirou with your asinine ideas," Lilia interjected on my behalf.

"He's my kid. I'm just teaching him the unfairness of life early on," Paul argued back.

"If he's really your kid, then I'm sure he's going to be attracting girls left and right and become an insufferable playboy like you," Zenith teased, her hands gripping the bedsheets tightly.

Paul's eyes lit up, mirth and satisfaction dancing in his gaze. "Oh? Care to bet? He's already brought home one. I'm sure there's more to come, right, Shirou?" he asked, turning to me. Following his cue, the other two women of the household set their eyes on me as well, and I threw Paul a glare for putting the attention on me. He gave me a squeamish smile, but I could tell he didn't regret it in the slightest.

My thoughts drifted to the past women of my life. I could still feel the warmth of their smiles in my heart, my most treasured feelings. The thought of other women replacing them? Preposterous.

"I have no interest in romance," I shut down. Paul gave me a wry smile, as if knowing something I didn't. A strange thought, since I was fairly certain I held all the cards. Zenith blinked once, slowly processing my words. Lilia let out a sigh of relief, thankful that I had no intentions of following in Paul's unscrupulous footsteps.

"Only time will tell," Paul said, and Zenith gave a resolute nod of agreement. "Anyway, we all need to talk."

All of a sudden, Paul's face morphed into one of seriousness, and the lighthearted atmosphere vanished, replaced with the heavy tension that occupied this house constantly. I gave Paul a look of surprise, unsure if this is what he really wanted. I guess I wasn't surprised that Paul chose the straightforward and direct route, though what he was doing was akin to slamming your head directly into a wall. But then again, did I really expect better from Paul?

"Well, care to explain what happened?"Zenith started. "I leave you two out to go do your stupid manly fighting bullshit, and the next thing I know, your entire ribcage is crushed, your internal organs are bleeding, and a boy half your size is dragging you through the front door."

Paul hummed thoughtfully, unsure of how to really respond to his wife. I looked over to the side and made eye contact with Lilia. She noticed my gaze, and I questioningly raised an eyebrow while subtlety nodding to Zenith. She gave Zenith an appraising look, and with a small nod, she gestured for me to continue observing.

Paul at least looked sheepish as he nervously rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah… Umm… So, Shirou and I were training…" he started unsurely.

Zenith gave him an unamused half-lidded stare.

"Training, he says. I'm sure," she said unconvinced.

"We were! Anyway, I know this looks bad—" he waves a hand over his bandaged torso "—but this is actually good news!"

Zenith scoffed at his enthusiasm. "I doubt anything good came out of this."

A wide wicked grin broke out on Paul's face. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. Because I just found out the hard way that our dear son—" he pointed a finger at me "—is a full-blown combat prodigy!" He ended his remark with a proud smile, waving over to me like I was some exotic circus animal he was showing off.

Zenith and Lilia both looked at me, which I replied to with a blank look and casual shrug. I didn't quite know what angle Paul was playing, but it was best to just play ignorant for now. Surely no one would fault a child for being stupid, right?

"Lord Paul… what exactly happened while you and Shirou were training?" Lilia asked.

Paul's grin grew even larger, his smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Why, I'm glad you asked, Lilia!" he said excitedly, his arms waving around flamboyantly. "You see, Shirou and I were sparring. Just like all battles between men, our session was of the most intense caliber. The clash of our blades was akin to a storm of lightning. The very world itself was terraformed from our strikes for nature itself was no match for the battle of our indomitable human spirits!"

Dear lord, someone kill me.

Lilia let out an exasperated sigh, and Zenith was massaging her temples to stave off the headache she was receiving for Paul's atrocious and unnecessary storytelling. It seemed that they were both well-adjusted—not enough, it seemed—to his eccentric mannerisms already and did not bother to protest it.

Seeing that everyone was rather unamused at his emphatic speech, Paul cleared his throat, the slight red hue on his cheeks betraying his embarrassment.

"Anyway, I was about to win our bout, but Shirou managed to surprise me. Just before I could hit him, he channeled his hidden power and hit me right in the chest. It was so powerful that I got launched across the field. I definitely felt a rib or three break. I passed out right after," Paul explained seriously, dropping his act.

Deeming his account of the incident sufficient, Paul relaxed in his bed, letting the description of the event sink in to the two women. Curiously, Paul did not bother changing any of the details of what had happened. While he did embellish my abilities slightly, calling me a prodigy when in reality I was the furthest thing from that, Paul decided that being completely truthful was the best option. Not surprising since Paul wasn't one for trickery or manipulation. I wasn't entirely against it. In fact, his decision made things much easier.

Still, I couldn't really agree it. Paul made the deliberate choice to not out me despite me having critically injured him, the incident might as well spitting in the face of his genuine wish for a family. Why he still sought to fulfill his wish with me, I did not know.

"I'm sorry, Paul," I apologized. It was the truth, that part I didn't fake in the slightest. It was a mistake on my part, losing control of myself. I wouldn't deliberately choose to hurt him, of course. "I don't know what came over me. One moment, I saw your sword coming towards me, and the next…"

I paused. Despite the chaos of the moment and the adrenaline coursing through me, I could still remember what had happened, the images in my head that had flashed in my mind briefly: the familiar glint of corrupted light glimmering in the dark, its once-pristine shine swallowing the darkness around it and oozing a melancholic glow, the formerly blissful and inspiring aura now radiating malice and treachery.

It haunted my dreams; every moment of its continued existence had been an insult to its former glory, sullying the legend it had carved into history. Merely thinking about it brought painful pangs of sadness into my heart. And perhaps what was even worse were the memories of the person holding that disgusting blade. Golden strands that sparkled in sunlight and danced joyously in the wind had wilted into a sickly pale green akin to dying foliage. Jade orbs so tantalizing that the finest of emeralds could be compared to her eyes and still be found wanting had become cold and dull. A face so beautiful that I could lose myself in it for days on end held none of the compassionate warmth nor ethereal grandeur it once possessed.

The memory forever scarred me, and it was little wonder I had reacted the way I did.

Of course, I couldn't tell them any of them that.

"It's okay, Shirou. You don't need to talk if you don't want to. It was an accident, that's all," Paul consoled, his voice soft and calm. Lilia looked at me with melancholy, her eyes brimming with pity. Those two felt grief that such a young child was experiencing hardship already. Power is often the cause of conflict, and no one at such a young age should have to bear the responsibility of wielding it. Would they have the same reactions if they knew the truth?

Zenith hummed in thought, glancing briefly at me, then at Paul, then at his injuries. I could sense her brain trying to put everything together, attempting to reconcile the image of the boy in front of her with the gruesome wounds she had treated earlier. Her face twisted in conflict and confusion, her beautiful features contorting into the troubled visage of someone twice her age.

"You expect me to believe that you—" she pointed squarely at Paul "—were beaten in a duel by a four year-old boy?" Zenith punctuated her question by moving her finger to me, her voice rising in inflection at the mere thought that an advanced swordsman, a genius by his own right, was taken by surprise and bested by someone who was barely at his waist.

Paul smiled sheepishly at her incredulity, understanding that what he was saying wasn't very believable. His story seemed contrived and bordered on absurdity, even to me who experienced it firsthand. And considering the history between these two…

Yes, perhaps trust was in short supply these days. Or maybe that has always been the case.

"Look, I know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth. He took me by surprise, but a loss is a loss. Trust me, I wouldn't lie to you, Zenith," Paul pleaded. Frosty cerulean regarded him impassively, carefully ruminating the merit of his words. She turned her head towards me, and I blinked once, my face blank of emotion as I wasn't sure how I should react.

Perhaps my neutral countenance gave her all the answer she needed because her critical gaze returned to Paul.

"Okay."

The abrupt acceptance of his implausible narrative took Paul by surprise, and he tilted his head in bewilderment.

"Okay…?" he trailed off, waiting for Zenith to elaborate on her curt statement. Contrary to his expectations, the woman merely let out an exhale, her eyes softening in acceptance at the situation presented in front of her. In the end, simple logic prevailed over whatever misconceptions she may have had. Even the most emotional of people would falter in the face of irrefutable reality.

She nodded, confirming his doubts.

"I believe you," she said succinctly. "It makes sense, even if it shouldn't."

"Master Shirou is quite the genius," Lilia interjected from the other side of the room. " Paul is a swordsman of admirable caliber, and Shirou is his son, so it should not be unexpected for his offspring to have inherited his innate aptitude for battle," she lectured.

Paul latched onto Lilia's reasonable explanation like a parched man in a desert.

"That's right! Shirou is my son, Zenith, in case you forgot." Paul smirked at his wife, puffing out his chest in pride as his eyes blazed with the satisfaction of victory over the woman, having the most absolute of faith in his argument, which wasn't the most convincing of claims in my opinion, but Paul seemed to believe otherwise.

Zenith scoffed at him, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Nice about-face."

Paul smirked in response.

"I do learn, you know."

She sighed dejectedly.

"Not well enough, unfortunately." Those icy orbs roamed over to me, her gaze losing just an iota of its frigidness for the briefest of moments before it froze over again. "Well, I guess he's an idiot savant like you," Zenith gestured to the man next to her with her head, and Paul looked affronted at the blatant insult.

"Idiot savant?! I'll have you know I trained for years to get to this level!"

A single delicate eyebrow rose.

"Oh really? Then perhaps you can actually explain how you actually fight so well?"

Her question took the wind out of Paul's sails, and the knight could do nothing but spurt out incomprehensible gibberish and wave around his arms in a vague mimicry of swordsmanship.

"Paul is very proficient in combat, but it appears his abilities do not translate very well to teaching, I'm afraid. He is unable to properly explain how he is able to do the things he does," Lilia elaborated upon seeing my confused expression.

Ah, someone who did not know the fundamental basis of their abilities. I was like that at one point in time. Paul and I were similar in that sense, I suppose. Fortunately, a future clone of myself came along to enlighten me on my talents. I would have preferred if there had been less swords stabbed into me with philosophical debates in the background and more actual lectures on magecraft though.

"Sometimes you just gotta be a chosen one to understand," he intoned sagely, as if speaking with wisdom accumulated over centuries of meditation. "Anyway, enough about me. This is more about Shirou."

I internally sighed as the subject of the conversation turned back to me.

"You're referring to the accident earlier?" Lilia asked.

"Yes. Since I was there in person to actually see and experience it, I know exactly what happened. As my son, Shirou inherited my super strength and speed. That's why he was able to defeat me in our duel. He unlocked his ability right before he was going to get hit," Paul deduced.

Zenith mulled over his explanation.

"What, you think being almost hit scared him enough to awake some magical powers he had?" Zenith asked, surprisingly forgoing her previous doubtful tone.

I mean, even to me, Paul's reasoning sounded woefully cliché. Getting some weird powerup on the brink of death? It was almost as if I was some superhero protagonist for a story.

Paul shrugged at her.

"For us warriors, we can only fight at our best when we're trying our hardest to survive."

That's right. Humans are beings of emotion, and there are scarcely few stronger emotions than the feeling of impending death. It's a sensation every experienced warrior has encountered, when years of diligent training is thrown to the wind and you're left with nothing but primal instinct, when the adrenaline of battle fogs your mind, and your body moves like a puppet on strings. In that state, humans are no better than rabid animals, and nothing is scarier than when an animal with nothing left to lose is backed into a corner and the only way out is to fight.

"I am wholly inexperienced in these manners, but I can attest to his reasoning," Lilia supported. "Nothing can swing a swordsman's blade faster than death."

Technique is a crutch invented by humans to overcome physically superior enemies. Technique allowed for humans to maximize their pitiful bodily gifts, but if you could swing harder and faster than your opponent, then that's all that really mattered.

I had seen this firsthand already, during the Holy Grail War. Illya's servant had emitted an aura of absolute dread, as if he could render me a meaty smudge on the ground at any given moment—which he could have fairly easily done—and that still somehow understated his abilities. Despite all her training and technique, even Saber's graceful sword strikes and immaculate footwork were unable to match Berserker's crude and unpolished fighting style. The Madness Enchantment may not have been the most optimal of choices, given it locked away most of Heracles's more potent noble phantasms, but the sheer brutality and power behind that stone slab of his could not be denied, and in a more normal grail war, I'm sure there was a very good chance he would have been the last one standing.

"I see," Zenith replied curtly. She looked at Paul. "Well, what do you want to do with him?" She flicked her head towards me.

"Well, the obvious answer is we train him. He's obviously very gifted, and it'd be a shame to let that go to waste. Plus, he can be a knight like his old man," Paul smirked, giving me a thumbs up and flashing a bright smile. "There's just one problem though. I don't think I'm good enough to train him."

"Aren't you advanced-level, maybe even a bit higher?" Zenith asked.

"Err, yeah… but like, I don't think that's enough," Paul confessed awkwardly. "I don't see myself being able to teach him for much longer. He's already picked up on some stuff from me. If I train him, I give him maybe a year, two tops, before he's better than me in pure technique. After that, all he really needs is to train his body, but that's something that can only be done with more time."

"Someone better than Paul…?" Lilia whispered to herself. She turned to me, and I could see her eyes laden with awe and reverence. It wasn't surprising. Paul, for all his flaws, was a natural genius with the sword and was better than the overwhelmingly vast majority of warriors in the world. Seeing that same man defer to someone else must have been a shock to Lilia. Regardless, I wasn't entirely comfortable with the notion. I was far from someone who deserved that kind of respect.

Still, shouldn't someone tell her that those kinds of looks weren't appropriate for someone over two decades her junior?

"So, we need someone better than you?" Zenith pursed her lips in thought, humming thoughtfully.

Paul let out a sheepish smile.

"Actually, I had someone in mind."

The woman paused for a moment before realization struck her, and she let out a whine of disbelief.

"You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately, I am. If we go down this route, she's our best option. She can do the same thing I do, and King-level swordswomen don't exactly grow on trees," he shrugged.

Zenith huffed in annoyance at his pragmatic answer.

"Well, it can't be helped, I guess."

Paul nodded in agreement.

"He'll be in good hands. If he's as naturally talented as I am, I can see him surpassing her in due time."

She smiled wryly at his praise.

"You have quite the monster for a son, Paul,"

Paul narrowed his eyes at her, giving her a frown of disapproval.

"Now that's just in poor taste. He's your son too in case you forgot. Anyway, this is a moot point because you forgot the most important part."

Zenith responded with a blank stare. Paul twisted his torso to look at me, and all joking pretenses disappeared from his false.

"What do you want to do, Shirou? I'm sorry we've been talking about what to do with you this entire time without asking. This goes without saying, but your input is the most crucial step. We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. Your future is yours to decide," Paul said.

I hate to admit it, but my respect for Paul was definitely growing. The man had confessed his father's and his own regrettable actions in the past and vowed to become a better man than either. From what I could tell, he seemed to be committed to that promise. Rectifying your mistakes to expel the demons of your past was a concept I was more than familiar with. I could only hope that it would end for Paul much better than it did for me.

Regardless, while I appreciated the thought, it was ultimately unnecessary. For someone such as myself, there was no choice to begin with. Emiya Shirou was a sword, and there was only one path for me to begin with. To stray from it was the height of arrogance.

"I would be grateful to be learn under such a skilled master. If you believe yourself unfit to teach me, then I trust any replacement you deem suitable."

I needed strength. Not for the sake of strength itself, but as a means to an end. To stop all these lives that slip through my fingers time and again, I needed to be stronger. This blade that was my soul had to be tempered to the keenest of edges to cut down the swathes of enemies in my way. Archer had said that the path of a hero would be one of bloodshed, and I had no doubt that by the time I am done, there would be mountains of bloodied corpses in my wake. If I was to truly embrace my role, I couldn't pass up this opportunity for more power.

Paul smiled at my decision.

"Perfect. That settles that. Don't worry, she's significantly better than me. Even you'll need a few years to whet your teeth on her," he winked, and I sighed. Honestly, his blunt flattery of my aptitude for combat was rather off-putting. It drew too much attention to me, who preferred to keep all my cards hidden until the most opportune time.

"Speaking of training, I… wanted to propose something as well," Zenith said. When all eyes turned to her, she took in a deep breath, trying to internally steady herself before continuing, "We should enroll him under formal magic lessons under a magician."

Her idea astonished Paul and Lilia. This was clearly the first they heard of it, and the abruptness of it all prevented them from masking the doubt on their faces.

"Are you sure about that? Making Shirou study magic and swordsmanship seems a bit… excessive," Lilia questioned hesitantly. "I thought you wanted him to have a relaxed childhood?"

Zenith's eyes darkened, balls of azure clouding over with a storm of emotions. Her features twisted into an expression of conflict, the image fleeting before it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"It's become rather… clear to me that my approach was wrong," Zenith admitted. "It's no secret that Shirou is a special boy. It's evident that he's gifted. It would be a crime to let that potential be wasted. We need to cultivate his talents early before they're squandered," she reasoned, "Besides, I'm sure you don't mind the slightest, do you, Shirou?" Those pools of arctic blue cast their cold gaze onto me as the woman acknowledged me for the first time this conversation, and her scrutiny sent an uncomfortable chill up my spine.

How strange that my previous indifference to her disapproval was disappearing.

It didn't make sense. While I couldn't argue against Zenith's reasoning—I agreed with it, in fact—the abrupt change in character threw me in for a loop. For a second, I was tempted to see if I was caught in one of Caster's illusions again because nothing made sense anymore. First, Paul and I had a heartwarming bonding session in which he altered his whole demeanor towards me. Now, Zenith, the same Zenith had so staunchly warded me from my hero antics and insisted I live a carefree and fun childhood, was now advocating for fostering my talents and accelerating my development and growth—even if it meant racing towards that end goal of heroism that she so vehemently protested against.

Dear lord, this day was getting more confusing by the hour.

Well, I wasn't sure what angle Zenith was playing now, but truthfully it didn't matter too much to me. If she was setting me up for something, I would deal with it when the time came, but I couldn't ignore the benefits she was giving me.

The prospect of taking on another tutor didn't bother me the slightest. The real issue is that I was concerned that any and all magecraft in this world would be inaccessible for me to utilize. As someone who's element and origin were "Sword", my selection of magecraft available for my personal use was very limited.

I looked onwards, into my soul, into my Unlimited Blade Works, the very manifestation of my ideals. It was the one true specialization of magecraft allowed to Emiya Shirou, the very pinnacle of his powers, the distortion of his mind and body made unbound onto reality. To try and deviate from it was ultimately an exercise in futility.

Still, I pondered on the thought further. Attempting to use this world's magecraft was useless but having a working knowledge on this world's magic system could be invaluable. Of course, I would seem like the worst student in existence, but that was something I was more than familiar with.

"I wouldn't be averse to taking on more studies," I said.

"You're sure about this, Shirou?" Paul asked dubiously.

I nodded.

"Master Shirou is very capable," Lilia affirmed.

"Well, that settles it. If he wants it, then that's all we need to talk about. I'll look for a tutor starting tomorrow. I'll ask for a posting to be made on the job board in the city. With any luck, we should get a response quickly."

Paul looked like he had something to say, but he swallowed him words. "I'll need to get in contact with Ghislaine. I'm not sure which godforsaken corner of the world she's in right now, so don't get your hopes up, never mind if she's even willing to take on a student. Worse-case scenario, you might need to beat up your pops for a while," Paul said.

"Being outdone by a four year-old. How far you've fallen," Zenith teased.

"Ah, but he's my son, so it's okay," Paul countered. "Anyway, we can talk more tomorrow. Shirou, we'll be starting training soon, then I can hand you off to your new teacher whenever she gets here. But please do be gentler with your father; as much as I love being viciously mauled by someone half my size, it kinda hurts my ego."

"I'll try my best," I said dryly, doing my best to speak as little as possible. It seemed that things were settling down, and I didn't need to add any additional drama or emotional trauma to these poor adults. Prior experience told me that it was best to keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

The occupants of the house fell silent, each member having a plethora of thoughts to sift through. This evening had left everyone with a good deal of things to ponder on, myself included.

"I believe it's time for the evening to come to a close. I'm sure Lord Paul still needs more time to recover," Lilia suggested. I glanced at Paul, and true enough, he did seem slightly pale now. I guess he was putting up a front earlier, and I failed to notice.

Paul nodded, wiping off the sweat that was building up on his forehead. "Yeah it's getting late. We can talk more tomorrow." He nodded at me, flashing me a cocky grin and giving me a thumbs-up. I blankly stared at him, tilting my head in confusing but returning the gesture nonetheless. If anything, his smile grew at my response.

"Agreed. All this healing is tiring. I'm getting ready for bed," Zenith said, getting up from her chair. Like clockwork, her announcement seemed to jumpstart the other two adults into motion. Lilia moved over to the bed, where she started collecting and putting away the supplies used for Paul's healing. Judging by the sheer amount of used wet rags she was placing inside of the basin, the entire process was very taxing and exhausting. Paul started moving out of the bed, but a hand on his shoulder from Zenith stopped him in his tracks. When he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, she merely glared at him in response.

"You are not letting my hard work go to waste."

Paul looked a bit miff at her stalwartness but remained on the bed regardless, crossing his arms like an indignant child. Zenith continued pinning him underneath her glare, stopping him from moving lest he incur her wrath. From an outsider's point of view, it might even seem like this was some weird form of flirting, but I knew better… I think… Oh god…

"Well, I'll be in my room if you require me." With a curt nod to the adults of the house, I showed myself out of the room.

Entering the quieter confines of my own bedroom, I let out a sigh of exhaustion. Somehow, someway, while the conversation didn't transpire quite how I preferred it, things could've ended much worse, and this entire household could've exploded in violent fashion, so it was best to take what I was given. Paul and Zenith more or less came to their own conclusions while Lilia interjected occasionally. From what I could tell, Paul seems firm on protecting me and believed that the incident was just a product of my uncontrollable inherited talents, which wasn't necessarily wrong. Zenith's strange change of heart is slightly concerning, but she's more or less accepted that I couldn't change for her, so that was one less thing she had to worry about.

I stretched my back, the feeling of my back popping and unwinding after a long stress giving me immense relief. I finally let my shoulders sag, not realizing how much pressure I had placed on them this entire time. I laid down onto my bed, and turning my head to the side, I looked out through the window and into the open sky. It was well into the evening, and the orange glow of the horizon from earlier had turned a pitch-black curtain of darkness. Judging from the look of it, I would have a few hours to rest before I needed to commence my nightly training session. Most people would have balked at the prospect of further physical training after the strenuous activities earlier in the day, but at this point, my body and mind were simply used to this level of abuse. Ultimately, this particular type of torture was trivial to what I've experienced and would amount to nothingness to what I would later encounter.

So much to do. It felt like I had all the time in the world to do what I wanted to do, yet why did it seem like time was already slipping through my fingers? The feeling of having so much freedom yet being confined and restrained at the same time… I couldn't quite shake it off.

I let my head fall into the depths of the pillow, barely noticing how the soft fabric caressed my head. A few hours indeed… Rest was unfortunately a requirement to maintain optimal bodily function. This accursed body of mine… if only I could develop faster. The spar earlier with Paul confirmed what I had already suspected. My general technique was solid, but nowhere near the infamous and acclaimed skill level of the servants I had faced in my previous life. In addition to that, my speed and strength were lacking, outright preventing me from executing certain maneuvers and putting me at a severe disadvantage against people who had both technique and physical gifts.

Some might say that such lofty expectations and criticisms of the fighting ability of a child was foolish, but for the sake of my future plans, I couldn't afford that luxury. I had already seen true monsters, beings that were power incarnate, and if I wanted any chance of beating anything within their realm of strength, I couldn't allow myself any excuses. No one would go easy on me just because I was physically a child, so I had to do the same for myself.

No, my current level just wouldn't do at all. For all my training and experience, Paul had decisively and easily made quick work of me. For every single part of our bout, I was fighting tooth and nail to extract any iota of an advantage I could, trying my absolute best to find a foothold in the insurmountable wall that was Paul Greyrat. And if it wasn't for him letting down his guard at the very end, I would've lost. And the reason I won? Nothing I could easily replicate. Last second power-ups from traumatic memories wasn't the most reliable method to fight.

For all his faults, Archer had never fought without a plan. His infinite experience had given him insight into his utmost limits. He went into battle with a flexible and adaptable plan, planning around his own strengths and his enemy's weaknesses instead of brute-forcing encounters with strength and speed. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, Archer had perfectly deciphered the weaknesses of the enemy and chose the perfect weapon from his mind to exploit it, methodically and precisely defeating his enemies. If I wanted to be a hero, I had to do the very same, and that meant expanding the capabilities of my Unlimited Blade Works, and by extension, my tracing and reinforcement. Yes, those are the only abilities allowed to Emiya Shirou, and thus I had to hone them to the finest of edges.

A few hours… hopefully this body of mine would serve its purpose before it crumbled to dust and nothingness.

With thoughts of the tumultuous road ahead, my eyes closed swiftly, my body immediately falling into a deep slumber as it struggled to recuperate from the stress it had undergone.

---

It was hell.

A sea of living flames burned as far as the eye could see, stained crimson with the blood of countless people. The absolute blackness of the sky was tinted an ominous sanguine with the veil of bronze smoke that obscured it. The cackling laughter of fire drowned out the horrific screams of pain and desperate pleas for help of the people it engulfed.

It was hell.

Where people burned to crisps, where homes smoldered away to ashes, where the very land was scarred with the lamentations of the damned and broken. Where dreams withered away and died, and futures were rewritten into an endless void of flames.

It was hell.

The milky white orb in the sky radiated its usual pale soft moonlight, completely ignorant of the ghastly torture occurring below, the serene and beautiful sight unable to truly mask the dreadful nightmare.

It was hell.

The fire continued on, uncaring for the innumerable souls it had consumed, only seeking more and more to fuel the blazing vengeful flames it covered upon the land. It was no ordinary fire. It was living and breathing, the very manifestation of malice given form, an unstoppable force of death with a vampiric thirst for human life.

There was no escape. There was no life. There was no hope. Nothing but a sad and pitiful end. Only the inevitability of death, to be consumed by the flames of evil as the conflagration stretched its twisted, malignant grasp around the world.

The night proceeded onwards, the wicked inferno blazing as more and more lives were fed to satiate its ravenous hunger. Houses toppled and crashed, the eternal memories and histories they contained reduced to serving as mere kindling for the fire. Mothers cried out as their children died in their arms, moments before they met their own ends as the flames engulfed them. People crawled on their stomachs, trapped underneath their very own homes, the burning timbers searing itself into their skin. The strength in their legs was long lost, trying their hardest to escape the fiery fingers that took hold of them. They howled into the night sky, begging for mercy that was denied as they were swallowed whole, their lives snuffed out like a lit matchstick. Others managed to escape the flames of damnation, a fleeting yet living hope igniting within them, only to collapse as they realized that the smoke had thoroughly invaded their bodies, filling every minute crevice of their lungs with burning gas that cooked them from the inside out. They fell down, choking to death slowly but surely, their last moments a dreadful calm as they stilled for the final time.

The blazing inferno finally reached its end. It sputtered for a few more agonizing minutes, the last vestiges of its life slipping away to nothingness. There were no more human lives to fuel its conquest, its carnage leaving the land barren and destitute. It had removed all life from the area, cursing it with countless souls screaming in agony, their voices left unheard and carried away with the wind.

No one could have survived. Of course not, how could they? A disaster born straight from Angra Mainyu, the evil god of Zoroastrianism, a being far beyond humanity. A tragedy created for the sole purpose of destruction and death, a culling machine meant to kill as many humans as possible. It was a foregone conclusion that no human could have survived his wrath.

And yet perplexedly, two still lived.

One human, and one the farthest from it. One who had orchestrated the machinations of this apocalypse and one an unfortunate victim of it. Perhaps those very reasons are why they had managed to brave through the inferno.

They had survived the rampage of the firestorm, escaping from Hades by the slimmest of margins. But while they had managed to steal their lives from death's grasp, they didn't come out entirely unscathed.

Blisters ran all over their bodies, marks from where the flames had licked at them. Their eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, and their clothes were tattered and singed.

One figure was hovering over the other. His face was bright with joy and gratitude, his eyes watering with tears as they cascaded down his face like rivers, dripping into the person below. He held the other's hand to his cheek, caressing it with the love of a thousand fathers, gripping it tightly like it was his lifeline—it was, his last connection to humanity. His lips were spread wide in a thankful smile, and for once in a very long while, the man felt his heart beat once more.

It was a beautiful sight, the salvation the man had long yearned for finally presenting itself to him at last. Only after countless corpses piled onto mountains of bodies and countless sins accumulated and etched into his soul was the man able to find his own deliverance, at the very end of this world.

It was picture-esque, a snapshot of time perfectly representing humanity. Surrounding them was a sea of evil, hate and spite incarnated onto the Earth. A calamity of the man's own design, the depraved, sinister depths of his soul bearing fruit and fulfilling his wishes. Yet he paid it no mind, the mere simple act of saving the boy in front of him enough to stave off his despair.

Th duality of humanity: inspiring, magnificent little stars amidst a void of perpetual darkness.

How ironic was it then, that the very boy he saved could scarcely be considered human at all. And maybe it was for that reason why the fire had not consumed him.

His eyes were blank, his soul burned to its very core. A blank slate, nothing but a sack of living flesh. He had no memories, no soul, no past, no future. His expression was empty, unable to process any emotion.

He could not comprehend why the man above him held onto him with such fervor. And yet, the man still clung to him desperately, as of this feeling was fleeting and ephemeral, like the boy could vanish at any moment.

Why?

Why was he looking at him like that?

What had he done to deserve such a captivating smile?

---

Golden orbs lazily opened. One eye testily revealed itself, blurry and unfocused for the most minute of moments before its companion followed suit. A tentative blink, slow and methodical, and their gaze circled sound the room, scrutinizing its surroundings before they closed, satisfied with the results of its search.

Emiya Shirou awakened from his slumber. He took in a deep breath, the long exhale the only indication of his slight discomfort. It was that dream again, one of fire and death. One where he had died previously, burning and perishing in a fiery blaze until nothing was left. And from those ashes, he was reborn once again, never quite the same, living another existence entirely.

He was accustomed to such dreams. They had plagued him constantly in his previous life, and long were the nights where he had turned endlessly, unable to purge the images of the fire that had given birth to him out of his head. Over and over, his mind replaying visions of his sins and atrocities, trembling for respite from the mental torture only for his pleas to go unanswered.

But given time, he had grown used to it, and now the only outwards sign that he had experienced it at all was a slight hitch of his breath upon waking. For an anguished existence such as Emiya Shirou, it was simply a way of life. Nowadays, his dreams were burdened by a different nightmare altogether. However, he had overcame that too.

Though perhaps overcame wasn't the correct term to use.

Regardless, Emiya Shirou wasn't particularly perturbed by this specific reoccurring concoction of his mind.

He slipped out of his bed, nary making a sound as his feet landed upon the wooden floor. He moved like a ghost, practically floating across the room to the door, his presence barely felt by the world. He was as silent as an assassin, moving his young body with far more control and dexterity than most adults could in their entire lifetimes. One would be hard-pressed to believe he was a human, instead of a machine masquerading as one.

He slipped down the stairs, the movement of air the only hint he had been there at all, and with a deft twist and graceful step, he was out of the house.

Unbeknownst to him, he was not alone on this night. Cerulean orbs snapped open, the beautiful azure held within those sockets trembling and quivering in fear and paranoia. They say the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if one could look closely, they would still see the remnants of the nightmare she just experienced within those sapphire mirrors, the residual sanguine flames flickering in her pupils, tormenting her even in reality.

The woman sharply turned her head left and right, frantically looking for something yet finding nothing. She blinked rapidly, visions of a fiery wasteland morphing into the familiar confines of her bedroom. Moonlight shine through the window, illuminating the pitch-black room with a gentle, pale white glow, the tranquil setting a far cry from the chaos pestering her mind.

"It's just a dream," she told herself, though the words did little to comfort the woman. Her shoulders quivered and shook. The only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat as it pulsed rapidly inside of her chest, the organ painfully smashing itself over and over against her ribcage as it threatened to jump out of her. A singular, quiet sob escaped from her as a lone tear fell down her cheek. "It's just a dream…"

Unable to fall back asleep, she made to get out of bed, trying her best to do so as quietly and discretely as possible to not disturb her partner on the far side of the bed, where he slumbered peacefully after a long, stressful day. That particular issue would be something she would need to sort out another day. Right now, she had other priorities to get to. Not that it mattered anyway. She had long since lost any semblance of confidence in the proper course of action. She had no idea what she was doing anymore, not since the day he was born.

She placed her legs over the bed, placing one foot onto the floor hesitantly. The tremors ransacking her body made it difficult to move properly but allowing the sturdiness of the floor to support her, she managed to get both feet onto the floor and stand upright. She wobbled slightly, losing her balance briefly before she steadied herself. Stumbling to the window, leaning her torso precariously against the windowsill, the woman was a far cry from the seasoned veteran adventurer she was, the strength she had built all those years having wilted away, reducing her to the pitiful mess she was now.

She gazed outwards, her half-lidded eyes focusing not on the tranquil peace of the night but set far inside her mind instead. Her brain was running rampant, conjuring hallucinations she had no wish to see but no choice to bear nonetheless. She replayed those disturbing scenes over and over in her head, unable to stop subjecting herself to the torture. Her heart ached and twisted, emotions frothing forth until it flooded over her completely in a cascade of grief and anguish.

She internally berated herself. She was better than this. How many dreams has she already witnessed? Dozens by now? Maybe even a hundred or two? She had long lost count. They didn't come every night. Sometimes it took months between dreams, sometimes weeks, sometimes one came right after another after another after another. They did not have a particular pattern from what she could tell, only that they were more frequent nowadays. Now, she could expect one at least once a week. They didn't used to be nearly as vivid or immersive either. Before, it used to only be flashes, maybe with some brief sounds. She could barely comprehend what was happening in those visions, if she could even recall them outright. Now, she had brief snippets of memories that were not hers, almost as if she was a spectator, removed and detached from the events she was privy of observing.

But that one… that nightmare was on a far greater scale than all the other ones. It was almost as if she was there in person, feeling the bites and scratches of the damning fire on her own skin and the hoarseness of her throat as she shrieked and cried out in agony only for her voice to have long since expired, experiencing the slow, encroaching dreadful realization that her life was going to end in that fiery desert. Those sensations etched themselves into her very soul; while the finer points of her other visions were always lost to her memories, she had no issue perfectly remember every miniscule detail of this one.

She had no idea what had caused this. No, that was a lie. She had a very strong suspicion of what had occurred. But it had always been a theory that she had tried her hardest to deny but could never completely extinguish. The doubt had always been there, constantly in the back of her mind, every word and every action made with those traitorous thoughts within her. In her desperation to snuff out her skepticism, to atone for the crime of distrusting her own flesh and blood, she had thrown herself recklessly into her role, giving all of her heart into raising him as best she could. However, in the end, it was all for naught, and perhaps that annoying voice in the back of her mind had been right all along and that those dreams had been a warning all this time. Lilia had tried her best to advise her, the woman having been a rather close confidant, and she had recommended that she continue her course, praying that her genuine feelings reach through to him, but now, after that heart-rending scene she had been privy to, it was far too much, and it was all to clear that her efforts had been futile, and she had been the one that was wrong.

A thump caught her attention, and she turned her head towards the window. Funnily enough, the object of her turmoil made itself known, and the child bounced and moved like no four-year-old should have been able to. In his hand was a simple sword, one almost as long as he was tall, yet he wielded it like a seasoned swordsman. He weaved through stances like a prodigy, his movements robust and firm yet exhibiting grace that would make the nimblest performers green with envy. He didn't simply go through the motions of swordsmanship, but rather he danced through them, making the practice look like a form of art so beautiful that she felt privileged to have had laid her eyes upon it. His sword flickered and vanished out of sight repeatedly, flashing through the air with enough speed to look like a constant circle of blurred steel.

He paused, and then the weapon in his hand disappeared into motes of blue light before coalescing into a different weapon—a spear. And just as easily as with a sword, he brandished it with supernatural expertise. Had she been on the pointed edge of his blade, she would have felt lucky to have been skewered by such sublime technique. It was strange how the arcs and twists and thrusts of the spear exuded such a hypnotizing beauty yet still managed radiate such sharp deadliness.

This wasn't the first time she had caught his training sessions before. The first time she had seen this display, she had a near heart-attack, but in her sheer stupidity, rather than confronting him directly, she believed she could convince him to stop by encouraging him to enjoy his childhood more.

Really, it was almost as if fate was rubbing her folly into her face. It mocked her, showing her just exactly what she had been trying to ignore and hide this whole time. The worst part of it was that she could not deny her foolishness in the slightest bit. It had started out as gradual trepidation, but more dreams were shown to her, she had brushed them off. Then more and more of his abnormalities became apparent, and still she had ignored it all. It eventually culminated into what had happened earlier, when he had completely betrayed her wishes, even harming his family—if he considered them family at all—and her nightmare was the final piece of the puzzle that brought everything together as her world came crashing down into shambles.

And now this brazen display of skill and magic unbeknownst to and far beyond her was fate illustrating to her, in undeniable fashion, what she had tried to refute all these years.

That Shirou was never truly her son.

"Then abandon him."

It would have been so simple. She could just up and leave, take Paul and Lilia with her and move out. They had money to spare and finding Paul a new job would have been easy considering his fighting prowess. Lilia too was an expert caretaker, so she could have found work as well.

It could have been ideal. They start over anew, perhaps have another child, and pretend this chapter of their lives never existed.

And that was even assuming she would have to be the one to restart. If she asked him to just up and go away, she doubted that he would have refused. He always seemed like he was trying his best to not just abandon them, but she didn't need any of that fake acting. If he wanted to leave so badly, he could go and do it. He'd be doing them a favor, ridding them of a thorn from their side.

And the worst case scenario… whatever he was, he still had the body of a child. He was a mortal, and no matter if he was possessing the body of their son or she had given birth to some alien, he was still made of flesh. He could bleed, and that meant he could die. Paul himself could not match him, but he didn't need to. He was good, good enough, and she could get more fighters to help end him. She didn't care how many people she had to throw at him. She would get the whole world to turn on him if she could. Whatever he was, he couldn't be allowed to grow. If he grew past the point of being a child, then there was no stopping him. That's why she had to do it now. She'd be doing the whole world a favor by killing that demonic child—

She stopped, eyes widening as a sudden wave of nausea and disgust overcame her. She turned to the side, uncontrollably spewing vomit all over the floor. The sickly green amalgamation of liquids and solid chunks—the breakfast he had made earlier—seeped between the floorboards.

She clenched a fist, relishing how her fingernails dug into her palm, the pain cutting through the storm of emotions.

She had to stop lying to herself. She couldn't do that. She was too soft, too caring. After all, even just earlier, she had helped him. She had proposed they give him a tutor for magic, both to help him and to perhaps cure whatever ailed him.

How hypocritical of her. Here she was thinking him of some insect that had to be exterminated, yet she was helping cultivate and nurture him. She supposed that deep down, she still cared, and she couldn't escape that foreboding feeling that this kindness would be her downfall. She couldn't disclaim the fact that she had given birth to him, that she had lovingly raised him as her own for all these years. She was her flesh and blood, her own pride and joy… but…

She turned back to the window. He seemed finished with his basic training and was slowly walking somewhere, but where his destination was, she did not know. She could know hope that he himself knew. As she watched him walk away from the house, not once looking back, she slumped her head against the window, pressing her forehead against the glass, bringing herself marginally closer to that disappearing figure, hoping that perhaps, one way or another, she could reach him.

Zenith fought the urge to break down, then and there, while enduring the painful pangs of pain in her heart.

"Why… why can't you show us that you care?"

---

Um, hi?

People thought that I abandoned this story, but in reality, I just had a lot of stuff going on. Got a girlfriend, lost a girlfriend. Got a job, lost a job. Graduated from college, but thankfully I kept the degree. But you guys don't care about that, so I'll spare you the details.

This chapter has went through 2 or 3 large-scale revisions I believe. It's not surprising considering I'm trying to maintain so many layers of characterization while blending it subtly enough to make discovering it enjoyable but still in plain enough sight that my readers can still find it. Alas, my own pitiful writing ability makes it so these chapters naturally take a long time since I wouldn't release anything unless I was 95% satisfied with it.

Regardless, it's out now. I'm curious to see how many people are actually still looking forward to this story. It's been over a year since I updated, so I'm sure a lot of people moved on, but to the people who are still here, welcome back! I'm back with my usual overly pretentious philosophical dialogues, featuring our beloved protagonist and his mildly messed up family dynamics.

Honestly, since it's been a year, so I'm sure my strange writing seems very foreign right now. For once, I'll actually thoroughly what's happening in the chapter, both for your sake and mine. I have many developments in the works in the story and trying to keep them all straight is very annoying. In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm trying my utmost best to grow and develop these characters. Writing their characterization to be consistent but still evolving is a painful endeavor. Navigating that line between erraticness and staticness, where characters grow and change but not so much that they completely lose their identity, is one that I'm quickly finding out is far more difficult than I thought. I don't want my main characters to be static, hence why they tend to change, but I want that change to be somewhat foreshadowed if its applicable. Shirou is our main narrator in this story, and he's not the most reliable, especially since he has a hard time understanding people. Take his words with a grain of salt. It's natural things might come out of nowhere, both because of his unreliability, and because it's a first-person story with lots of things going on in the background.

Alright, onto the chapter itself. So, with this chapter, I have more or less revealed all my cards regarding the Greyrat family. Paul's secret was shown last chapter when he decided to accept Shirou as his son, the complete opposite of what he started out as. I did that to mainly show that Paul is an emotional, impulsive person but one with ultimately a good heart…kinda. He's a cheating bastard, but he's got his moments. Shirou does acknowledge this as well. And now that he seems set on keeping Shirou in the family, things are starting to look up, right?

Not quite. Zenith has unfortunately reached the climax of her indecision. I've tried my best to hint at her dwindling mental state throughout this fic. She's needed support from Lilia, and I've had Shirou comment on her rather… obsessive need to "fix" him. I'll be checking out the consistency of this story another day, but if you feel that I did not do a good enough job, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN A REVIEW!

Okay, so I've shown that the driving force between Zenith's need to help Shirou have been these dreams all along. Don't worry, I'm not stealing from Third Fang. It's actually a somewhat major plot point I'm intentionally leaving open to whether or not I want to continue with it. I had toyed with the idea that Shirou was actually a heroic spirit, and he's not really a true human being and was thus summoned to this world. The dreams are a byproduct of that idea, similar to how masters dream of their servants' pasts. Regardless, the dreams did what I wanted them to do, which was to make Zenith doubt herself. As you can see, she's been bottling it up all these years, but it's way too much right now. Lilia was good for her, but it wasn't enough, and now she's in shambles. Ultimately, Lilia didn't give birth to Shirou and did not have these dreams—just a small lick of it—so she can't completely help Zenith. Zenith's little monologue at the end where she contemplates having Shirou lynched was a last minute addition, but I think it's a good addition to show how far she's been pushed. Yes, she wasn't completely serious, but the fact that the thoughts were there, and the ensuing reaction afterwards, should show her current mindset. She acknowledges that Shirou is… something, not really her son (or is that a misconception that she has right now?) but can't refute that she still cares and loves him. Hence why throughout the chapter, she's conflicted, resigned, blank, etc. Still, in the end, she helps him by getting him some magic tutoring, but admittedly I just wanted Roxy in here. If it seems like a bit of a stretch, let me know.

Well, best for last. Just like Zenith, our poor Shirou is very indecisive. He's constantly flip flopping between abandoning the Greyrats or sticking with them to make them happy. Ah, but sticking with them is causing them pain, so perhaps the answer is to leave? It's a nice little fork in the road I've put him on, and there's no really correct answer. That's actually intentional. I wasn't sure if the play was to have been abandon the family in some twisted way to saving them or to keep preserving, so I purposefully wrote this story in a way that it was fairly open, and I could decide later. I'm leaning towards one option right now, and Shirou has commented on it, but I'll leave that for you to dissect.

What else? He's very formal and constantly reminiscing. That first part is mainly to emphasize his inhumanity, and the second is to show that he's very… disconnected from this current world, and that his heart and mind are still firmly back in Fuyuki. Yes, he seems kinda like an old man, but this is his second life, and he was never very normal in the first place. Speaking of his heart and mind, I think this chapter marks the first time Shirou has directly confirmed that he doesn't see the Greyrats as family. Again, I've tried very hard keep it consistent, and Shirou subconsciously distancing himself from them is a common theme so far. Granted, he does indulge them every once in a while, but like I said, I want to show that constant indecision. Very obviously, Shirou continually changes how he approaches things is a core concept of this story. He believes he can't be anything more than that twisted notion of a hero, hence why he constantly compares himself to Archer and wants to get out there and start heroing ASAP, but sometimes it comes at the expense of hurting those around him, something he tries to avoid but inevitably ends up doing. That's why he doesn't just up and leave: it would wreck Paul and Zenith. Of course, he's going to hurt them either way, but that's just how it is.

Lilia is just chilling tbh. I'm mainly using her as a way to fill in conversation since Shirou doesn't like talking and Zenith is mentally dying right now. Oh, and I tried to flesh out Sylphiette's family. They have a very specific purpose in regards to the main characters. I'm not sure how many of you remember Law. He got like 3 lines in the LN, I think? Alice is completely new though, and honestly, I just pulled a name out of a hat.

Oh, and please forgive and point out any mistakes regarding the tenses. Sometimes I slip up and write in the present when not appropriate. I think I got them all, but you can never be too sure.

One last thing: I haven't read the WN, and I'm very behind on the LN (I think I'm still just right where Roxy and Rudy get married), but I have read a brief synopsis on the rest of the story. Truthfully, the ending is something I can easily work with, since I planned something very special for Shirou at the end, and the MT ending doesn't really interfere with that. I don't really know how I'm going to write everything between this arc and that last arc, but that's a problem for later. Really, I just need enough villains to throw at Shirou. My man needs to slice and dice. Speaking of fighting, it may seem like I'm gassing up Shirou very hard right now, but I'll try to make the fights not curbstomps. I'm really less concerned with the fight itself, and more about the repercussions of them, since I plan to give Shirou a lot more mental trauma. Regardless, I'm making out Shirou to be some weird unstoppable death robot, which I'm onboard with tbh.

Alright, I think that's everything. Please DM me if you have any questions. When people put questions in reviews, I'm not sure if they're doing so rhetorically or are genuine questions. I should probably answer them though... yeah… whoops? I also put my discord in my bio for anything pressing since I rarely check my inbox. Like I said, I'll be combing over this entire story later in the week, but for now I'm just going to relax. I'll see you all in 2025 when my next chapter is 30k words long. Oh, and I changed my name but I don't think anyone would notice so it's fine.

Thank you for reading, and as always, have a good day!