Chapter 1: The Wish

(Rewritten)


Gentle winds blew in his ears. A soft, sweet sound of a distant woodwind wafted in his ears; a light breeze stoked the embers in his memory. Then it sank back into nothing.

Snow and ice gnawed at his face, nibbling at his flesh, its presence like the world's withering. His body lay on a bed of white. His clothes, skin, and hair felt nothing but everything at once.

His mind was blank, and his memory was still, but his heart was beating, boiling and boiling. His heart was pounding, and his thoughts were legion, busy and busy, rushing around his skull, whirling and whipping and growing, spread out wide and wide like the grey sky over his head.

The ground was thick with snow; icy knives bit him through the clothing and into the skin. Shirou stared at the snow wafting through the sky; his eyes shut, his senses only picking up a slight fluttering in the air.

Was this the afterlife? A frozen wasteland, devoid of life, where only he remains? Or was he still trapped in the bubble of his madness? His reality marble.

No. Shirou had perished, disintegrated, dust into the wind.

Or so he thought.

He should have died, the might of Enuma Elish should have left nothing of him, and Angelica would not have allowed even a speck of him to remain.

The truth was revealed every time he breathed in, every time there was a ripple of snow in the wind. He was alive, if only barely.

Where was this place? Shirou willed his broken body to sit up. His vision was blurred, and he struggled to open his eyes. It took a few tries, but he lifted his head off the ground. It felt like weights on his eyelids, but they receded as he blinked and tried again.

His body was broken and cracked, sticking out at odd angles. His exposed skin was blackened, marked by burns. His eyes were bruised and bloodshot; his hair was a tangled mess. His arms and legs resisted. Eyes flickering open. Staring at the sky. Even the clouds looked wispy and translucent. A sense of lightheadedness came upon him.

He pulled himself up onto his elbows. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Shirou scanned the world below; a sweeping panorama of white peaks, splashed with trees of black and white, giant rocks littered the landscape like fallen angels. There was no easy way down. He clutched his chest, each breath he took burning his throat.

"So, this is what the afterlife's supposed to be like?" He joked to himself. The air in his throat pushed through the rust in his vocal cords, echoing and bouncing off the mountainside.

Shirou rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, his fists aching from the cold. He looked back to where he lay.

The Sun was falling below the horizon. The surrounding snow shone with all the icy beauty of the oceanic abyss. He was alone. Here in this desolate frozen landscape, he and the Sun were the only witnesses to this world. Shirou shivered.

He shuddered as a gust of wind swept past. It snowed harder as if the clouds had descended. The horizon was a sea of white that stretched to infinity, where the tundra melted into the sky. As the Sun sunk below the horizon, the land around him grew dark. The night was coming.

Just great.

He had to find civilisation before he died for real.

Shirou took a deep breath. He couldn't stay here any longer.

"W-well, time to get moving," he muttered, forcing himself up from the dirt, his legs weakening as he stood. He breathed deeply and walked. He took a step. Another step. And another. And another. Each step he took was slow and deliberate. Each step he took was more brutal than the last. His left leg gave way, and he fell to one knee. He looked at the ground and saw blood.

He pulled his trouser leg up and saw the gash in his calf. It wasn't bleeding much, but it hurt. Wincing, he touched the wound. His fingers were numb from the cold, but he could feel the cut.

Shirou stood up on his other leg. He was in a hurry, yet he was painfully aware of what remained of his legs. He needed to conserve his strength.

Shirou trudged forward. He walked as quickly as he could, each step sapping his strength, each step a struggle of endurance. He hoped someone was looking down on him; somewhere, someone was watching over him. A distant memory of a better time flickered through his mind.

Shirou's pace slowed. He felt the memory slipping away from him.

He stumbled, catching himself with his hands. His breath came in puffs of white in the pale sky. He breathed in and sighed. Once. Twice. Three times, each breath stinging his lungs. He wiped his forehead and continued. He walked down the mountain, his hands bloody and scabbed, grasping at the edge of his shirt. His breath came in short and sharp rasps. The more he breathed in, the more his body shuddered, and his mind clung to the memories of happier times.

Shirou felt the weight of his clothes; each breath came in quick and shallow rasps. The snow crunched underneath his feet. He wanted to move on, but his body was too tired to continue. He slumped against the mountain, his breath coming in ragged gulps.

The sky was losing all its colour. The darkness creeps in. Shirou looked back to the ground as if looking at the sky was overloading his senses.

Shirou's vision blurred, his mind screaming at him to keep walking. His body was too close to the edge of exhaustion to continue, yet too tight to death to stay. He could not have stayed there any longer. If he stayed, then there would be nothing left after all he did. His heart would stop, his mind would stop, and nothing would be left.

Shirou's mind screamed at him to move.

A single tear fell from his eye, freezing into the snow.

Shirou felt cold; his insides felt hollow. He felt empty, feeling his mind dying. He could feel his life slipping away from him.

There was nothing left.

He fell to the ground.

Shirou awoke on something soft. He was lying on a sleeping roll. His body was numb, but he had no idea of how long he'd been unconscious.


He was freezing.

His body felt heavy. He couldn't move. He couldn't feel his toes. He couldn't feel his fingers, either the tips of his fingers or the flesh at their ends. He couldn't feel the backs of his hands. He couldn't feel any part of his head.

He couldn't feel his face. Where were his eyes? Where were his ears? And how was he breathing? As thoughts arose in him, he didn't know what to think.

It was impossible. Shouldn't he be dead? Shirou looked at the sky only to face the ceiling of a tent. A canopy of a tent with a wooden frame and a canvas surface. It is a simple roof made from branches and strips of fabric with no window. He heard something. It was his heartbeat. The sound of his heart's steady beat sounded like the clap of a drum. The incessant ticking of his heart sounded like the beat of a clock. It would stop for one second and then start again, again and again, and again. He felt his breath tickle his face.

"Huh, I thought you would be dead by now," an impressed voice ran out.

The flap of the tent opened. Shirou's eyes opened, and saw the outline of the owner of the voice.

Shirou was staring at a girl. She was dressed in a white cotton jumper. The jumper's seams are straight and clean, and the material is sturdy and well-made. She wore a black winter jacket over it. It was made of a dark, rugged fabric that appeared synthetic. It had deep-lined pockets and straps for support. She had black hiking boots that were sleek and narrow, with pure white laces down and steel-toed studs.

Her hair was short. Her eyes were obscured by snow goggles. With her gloved hand, she swatted snow away from her face. It glistened in the sunlight. Her arms were crossed, and she was dressed like a proper mountain climber, complete with a long rope wrapped in a loop and tied to her belt. She was carrying an ice pick and a hiking stick attached to her massive backpack. She looked like a pro if it weren't for the fact that she wasn't dressed to cover her bare legs.

Animal ears?!

Shirou blinked at the sight of them. They looked light and fluffy yet sharp and flexible. The tufts of white fur seemed as soft as a lamb's wool. They had black tips, as black as a crow's feathers and the ears were lined in the same colour. The feline ears blended well in her hair, matching her snow-white hair, and their tips blended into a dark grey.

"Well, I'm glad I was taking this route or else you would have been a popsicle. You're a lucky guy!" The girl lifted her goggles, and he could see her eyes clearly. Her eyes were the colour of a midwinter's sky. Soft as clouds, bright and sunny, filled with life.

"What-" Shirou struggled to speak. His throat was husky, raw. He tried to talk but could not. As he breathed, he realised that his mouth felt like a metal furnace. It tasted like burning rubber.

The girl crouched down, holding on to his shoulder to comfort him. She smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry; You'll be fine."

"I can't move..." Shirou said.

"It's probably just hypothermia. It's not too bad. I'll have you back to normal in no time," Ensia said softly.

He let out an amused breath, severely doubting that his condition was any less than severe.

She let go of his shoulder, walking to a pouch strewn across the ground. The bag was leather, worn and shabby, but still able to secure its intended contents. Shirou glanced at it with his peripheral vision; the pouch looked like it had been haphazardly rummaged through, pieces of first aid disorganised, and some were scattered across the ground.

She shifted through its content, ferreting around, looking for something. Her eyes narrow as if looking for something and failing to find it. She does not look at Shirou. Instead, she scans her surroundings, inspecting the ground.

She sighed as she stood up. "Alright, you better not die while I'm gone! Not after all the effort, I put into saving ya!" She opened the tent's flap, letting the night breeze's chill brush against his skin before disappearing into the darkness.

Shirou took some time alone to gather his thoughts. His body was tired, and his mind was troubled. He had no idea how he got here or where he was. What about the girl with white hair? Maybe she was a magus. Was this her territory? What about his battle with Angelica? What about the Holy Grail? Miyu?

The thought of his sister made his frozen hand form a fist.

The ruffling of the tent flaps brought him back from his thoughts. The wind blew through the canvas, making him tense.

The girl from before stepped back into the tent; Her clothes were covered in fresh snow, her hair white with the frost of the night chill.

"I'm back~!" she said as she popped back into the tent, A greyish green wool blanket rolled in a ball under one arm and a thermal flask in hand.

"Can you sit up?" She asked, shaking the thermal flask gently. He swallowed and tried to nod, feeling intense pain as he did so.

Shirou sat up, pulled the blankets away from his body, and then stared down at his legs. His clothing had been replaced, and he had clean bandages wrapped around his calf. His previous wet and ripped clothes were nowhere to be found. In a usual scenario, he would've been a little miffed and embarrassed to have been stripped, cleaned up, and dressed while unconscious. The thought now didn't bother him at all, though. He was far too tired and sore to care where his clothing had gone.

"Don't worry. You'll be just fine." The girl smiled as she sat beside him. She held the flask out, offering it to him. He looked at her and slowly reached out to accept the flask. His lips stung as they wrapped around the metallic cap of the flask. The hot broth spread through his mouth, throat and stomach; the warmth filled him up, cradled and caressed him; he could feel it seeping into his very bones.

"You're probably a little confused right now. Let's warm you up first," Ensia said, patting him gently on the back with her slender fingers.

"Do you have a name?" She asked, leaning in closer. Shirou's breath caught in his throat, and he wondered if it was even worth telling her his real name. He wasn't sure if she had ulterior motives for him, but looking at her face, he felt she didn't.

"Shirou Emiya." Shirou croaked out his name; his voice was raspy and came out as loud as a whisper.

The girl looked deep in thought, caressing her chin with her hand. "Hm, sounds Higashian... never thought someone from so far east would end up in Kjerag."

Higashian? The way she said it seemed like it was a place, but he had never heard of such a place before.

Her eyes widened. "Oh! My name is Ensia! Nice to meetcha!" She pointed to herself with a thumb.

"Well, I guess I have you to thank for saving my life then," Shirou said, wheezing through the pain in his throat.

Ensia patted Shirou's head. "Don't worry about it" He heard her giggle. She pulled her hand away. "We'll take a break here for now. You should get some sleep."

"I don't think I need any more," Shirou said.

"Nonsense!" Ensia laughed at his stupidity, shaking her head. "You need to keep your rest. You might be feeling better, but you're still a long way away from recovery."

Ensia leaned his body into a laying position, draping the wool blanket over him. She tucked him in like a mother would her child. She fiddled with the equipment on her jacket, checking the condition of each little bauble and item in her jacket and belt.

She glanced down at Shirou's face, frowning as he laid awake on his back.

"... If you're going to stay awake, mind telling me why you were dying on Mount Matterhorn with no equipment or appropriate clothes whatsoever?" Ensia poked him in the cheek, "Were you drunk at the time?"

"Would a drunkard have wounds like these?" Shirou said, the corners of his lips turned up a little, just for a moment.

"Hm, I don't know~ I've seen pretty rough bar fights" She laughed, "But no, seriously, what were you doing up there?" Ensia asked.

Shirou wouldn't like to visit the bars Ensia had been to.

"... I don't know how I got here myself."

Ensia looked surprised. She tilted her head, and her white hair spilt in front of her ear. "Do you at least know where you are?" Shirou shook his head. He looked away. "... what were you doing? What do you mean you don't know how you got there?"

Shirou didn't exactly know how to respond to those questions; He could speculate a whole number of ways on how he could've been transported here. Ranging from reasonable to the fantastical, neither of which he thinks she'd believe.

She sighed as she heard his silence. "I see..." Her smile faded. Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned away from him.

"Say Shirou," Ensia said, smiling again. "I own a small little cabin not too far from here. There's a small clinic in the village, so we can take care of your leg and get you back on your feet again."

"That sounds terrible. Who would give up this luxury for a warm, dry home?" Shirou patted the makeshift bed beneath him.

"Yeah... It's not like you had a choice anyway, eheh!" She cackled with her hands on her hips.

"It's pretty late, so we'll leave in the morning" Ensia stood up, opening the tent's flap, leaving Shirou alone.


His dreamless slumber was halted by him being shaken. "Up you go!" Ensia said with a harsh tone. "We need to get going!"

Shirou woke up at the sound of her voice, his head throbbing from the sudden burst of pain. His head felt tired and heavy, but he welcomed the pain back. He looked up to see her glaring at him with her arms crossed. Past her, A dim light illuminated the tent's interior. The canvas seemed to glow like a sun shone through the fabric. The light was diffuse and pitiful, but its effects were unmistakable.

"Huh?" He asked, barely awake.

"How is your leg?" She asked, ignoring his tired stupor.

"It's... still a lot better than yesterday," Shirou said, wincing as he moved his leg. "I feel almost like new." That might've been an exaggeration on his part.

"Great! so let's get a move on!" She said; a tinge of worry flashed across Ensia's face, her brows furrowing like a thunderstorm brewing.

She opened the tent flaps and rushed out. Shirou scrambled out of the sleeping bag and stumbled after her. "Hey! what's the rush?!" He called out to her, adjusting his clothes.

He found her outside the tent, scrambling to place everything back into her huge travel pack. The bag was made of sewn cotton, a simple rectangle about the size of a large duffle bag. It has a strap on the top and a carry handle on each corner. A flap on the front hides an enormous zipper, and the whole thing is held shut with a sturdy leather strap.

"There's a snowstorm coming, and we need to move a little quicker before we're swallowed up in it", She explained, strapping her collapsed tent to the side of her bag.

The collapsed tent folded into an incredibly compact shape, a convenient roll with a few metal poles poking out of the top. She looked back at him, walking past and proceeding to collapse the tent he was in. Pulling the straps and stakes that held it up.

"Why did you have a spare tent anyway? Were you fishing for stranded people on the mountain?" Shirou asked.

"Oh, haha," Ensia let out a noncommittal laugh. "No, do you know how crazy conditions can be while climbing? I don't mind carrying a spare tent since these are so light and compact anyway."

Ensia glanced around her, making sure she didn't drop any equipment. Shirou spotted a wooden sledge hastily built together, The sledge was covered in snow, yet it appeared sturdy. Ensia must've used it to carry him here.

Shirou turned his head and realised Iris had already started walking without him. He dragged his stiff legs through the snow, following the woman in front of him. She was walking quickly and stepping over the snow that clogged her path.

"Wait up!" He called out to her, pulling himself through the snow. She stopped, turning around to look at him.

"Are you okay? Sure you can keep up?" She said, smiling.

Shirou nodded. He wasn't sure if he could keep up at all, but he didn't have much choice.

Shirou followed her, each step with a painful jolt as he pushed himself forward. Ensia ran through the snow, following the path of the road. Shirou kept up, keeping his footing as best he could. After a few minutes, they reached the first snow bank.

"Where are we going?" Shirou asked.

"The small village I told you about, just a few miles down the road." She said, pointing to the distance.

"Is the storm that close?" Shirou asked, his shoes digging into the snow as he walked. He caught up to her again.

"Yup! it's two days early; it caught me off-guard." She said while glancing back at him. "I wouldn't like to linger too long."

Shirou became aware that his legs could no longer propel him forward. He stumbled in the snow, his knees slamming into the icy ground. His breathing was laboured. Shirou struggled to his feet, legs aching and feeble, but they supported him, if only barely.

Ensia stopped and watched as he clambered back onto his feet. Shaking her head, she unlatched a hiking stick from her backpack, offering it to him.

"C'mon, slow-poke, use this" She smirked at him.

"Maybe I'm not slow; maybe you're just too fast." Shirou took the metal hiking stick in his hands. It was a thin metal rod with a tiny hilt, it felt flexible, light and robust in Shirou's hands.

"Oh, it's not that hard; just walk forwards," Ensia said, causing Shirou to grunt.

Shirou took the hiking stick from her and started walking, taking a few unsteady hops to get traction in the snow. He flicked the hilt of the bar. He slipped more times than he should, but he eventually got a steady rhythm. The stick in his hands dug into the snow, supporting his weight as they marched.

Ensia was walking ahead of him, her pace constant, her strides a metre long. Shirou struggled to keep up with her by a couple of metres, but he pressed on regardless. The crunching of snow under his feet was loud and relentless; the crunch of snow was a constant, ever-present sound.

"Say, apart from your name, I don't know much about ya," Ensia said, walking slower than before to allow him to catch up.

"What do you want to know?" Shirou replied; his breath was laboured and heavy.

"Hm... Let's trade titbits of each other!" She said excitedly, clapping her hands in front of her face.

Shirou thought for a moment. "Well, you already know my name; I guess I'll start with my hobbies," He said, resting the stick he was carrying against his shoulder. "Mostly just housework, cooking, cleaning, fixing, etcetera" He waved his hand in a circular motion. "I'm also fond of sumo wrestling and hunting-"

"Oooh, what's sumo wrestling? Does Higashi have its version of wrestling?" Ensia interrupted him, "I've never heard of it before," She said, walking backwards on the snow, facing Shirou as she walked.

"Sort of?" He replied.

"So you're like a house-husband with badass hobbies!" Ensia said, laughing at him. "It's my turn~" She held out her hand and counted her hobbies with her fingers. "I like exploring! Hiking, climbing, and the vast outdoors! sports!" She sounded exhilarated as she listed them all off.

"I also like the music discs my brother brought back for me to listen to!"

Ensia was a little ways ahead of him, walking backwards, talking as she went. Shirou continued walking along the snow, listening to her. He knew he really shouldn't. Their voices were far away and faint, but his ears were trained to pick up every little sound from his environment.

"And I'm also fond of animals!" She finished her list and turned around, walking forwards again. She shifted the weight of her backpack to a more comfortable position.

He glanced over at the trail of footprints she left behind her. The prints had been there for a while and were already beginning to merge. They were walking up a giant snow mound where he only saw snow and the skyline. When he looked up, raised his head and looked ahead again, he realised she had stopped.

He stopped next to her, following her line of sight. Ensia dug into her jacket, pulling out a pair of binoculars. The binoculars were giant and black with a curved lens. They were also cumbersome and a bit too large for her size.

She held it up to her eyes, pointing to a black mass in the distance.

"There it is! We managed to make it!"

She offered the binoculars for Shirou to borrow, only for him to decline. He could see it just fine from here. It was the village she was talking about.

The village was a small little hamlet, it wasn't tiny, but he wouldn't say it was big either. It was only about half the size of a city block. Even from here, it looked like a toy village. All the houses were made of wood and stone with thatched roofing. The town was surrounded by a wooden wall that was two to three feet tall. The wall had a small decorative gate made of wood and painted white with little pictures of flowers and animals plastered.

Ensia led him through the village. The dirt road was unpaved and hardened. It mainly was stone, with a few patches of dirt here and there. The rocks were black and grey, with some a bit lighter in colour. There were tree stumps and rocks with small bushes or grass growing out of them.

Villagers greeted Ensia with smiles, and Ensia waved to them in response.

The log cabin looked like it had been built by hand. The walls were smooth, without any cracks or blemishes. The logs were all placed together in the correct formation with precision. The wood was a dark brown and almost black. It was the colour of bark.

The roof was not straight but was created to give the house a view of the village. The roof covered the whole house, with a small balcony at the top of the roof, overlooking the entire village.

"Welcome back, Master Cliffheart", A man in a white jacket and a red scarf called them from the balcony. The scarf was tattered and worn, out of shape. The colour was a deep crimson red with some patches of white, and the edges of the scarf were frayed.

"Hey, Weiss! I found this clown on Mount Matterhorn!" She jumped and waved at the man, pointing at Shirou. "He was a popsicle!"

"He looks... roughed up," Weiss said, raising an eyebrow.

"He was!" Ensia said, bumping Shirou with her elbow. "But he's in much better shape now, thanks to me!"

The two of them went inside the cabin.

The cabin was very well furnished. A large fire pit was in the middle of the room. A table, placed against the far wall of the cavity, was close to the window. A bookshelf, made of wood and packed tight with books, lined the cabin's interior walls.

Weiss walked down the stairs, clicking his tongue as he did so. He took his time walking down to the floor, watching Shirou. He then proceeded to sit down in a chair, facing the fireplace.

"Hey Weiss, could we get some medical attention for him?"

The man with brown hair sighed. "We can't keep using each other's real names, my lady; it's dangerous. We must be cautious not to overexpose ourselves, especially to strangers."

Ensia scratched her head, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Hehe... oops?"

The man squeezed his face and massaged his nose. He glanced at Shirou and smiled slightly. "Sir, please address the mistress as 'Cliffheart' and me as Courier," he said pleadingly.

Shirou nodded, not getting why there was such a need for Codenames. Maybe they were the targets of someone, but who would want to hurt Ensia? He didn't even know if he wanted to ask.

"Where are you from?" Courier asked curiously.

"...Higashi," Shirou said. He had just met this person and already lied to their face. He wondered if this counted as a new record for him.

The man scrunched up his brows. He stood up from his chair, walking towards Shirou.

"He got transported here somehow! Maybe some kind of arts or something," Ensia said, resting her hand on Shirou's shoulder. He looked up at her; she smiled back.

"My name is Shirou Emiya" Shirou offered out his hand for a handshake.

Courier kept a smile on his face, though to Shirou, it felt unnatural. Something about it made him uneasy. Courier didn't take the handshake and instead turned around and headed for the door.

"Well, I'll go get the doctor to take a look at you," He said, opening the door to the cabin. "If you do anything to the Lady, you won't make it out the village gates before I get my hands on you."

He shut the door behind him.

"He seemed nice..?"

"Please don't mind him," Ensia said. She was staring at the fire as if she was in deep thought. "He might be a bit suspicious of you right now, but that's his job, don't take it too personally."

"So rude, who wouldn't immediately trust a boy their ward brought back home," Shirou said, sighing in false disappointment. The relationship between this Weiss and Ensia seems like a bodyguard to their protectee; It seemed like the normal-looking Ensia was more important than he realised.

Ensia smiled in amusement, taking a seat at the table.

Shirou looked at the bookshelf. The bookshelf is a mess of books. The spines lean in each direction at an angle, the covers are dusty and water-stained, the books are battered, their pages are dog-eared, their edges are cracked, and their pages are torn. Some of the books are falling apart, their pages falling out and dragging on the floor.

The books shelf has a stale, musty smell. It's hard to explain, but it's a combination of old books, pencil shavings, and rusting metal. It's not unpleasant, but it's not pleasant either.

A few minutes later, Ensia stood up, humming a strange tune. She put her jacket back on and headed for the door.

"That idiot probably got lost; I'll be right back, okay?"

Shirou shook his head. A draft came in through the window at the doorframe and chilled him. He heard the door open and then closed. Footsteps fade away in volume.

It is unusual that both tenants of the house would leave a stranger alone in their home. Of course, he wasn't in any condition to commit a robbery or to run afterwards, and he doubted there was anywhere to go.

Walking over to the dusty old bookshelf, He reached for the first book he saw. It was a green tome; the cover was made of leather, worn smooth, with the cover folded over three times. The title is stamped on the front in gold. The spine is cracked and frayed.

"A to Z: Tuhin Village, Atlas And Wildlife: Ultimate Survival Guide Version 10"

Bit of a mouthful, he had to admit.

Shirou turned the pages, scanning them for anything noteworthy.

This book was full of sketches, detailed bird's eye view of the local area, and writings ranging from the fauna of the mountains to the animals and monsters in it. The maps are pretty detailed and accurate. Though the letters and words are small, the inscriptions are written neatly in a sizable spidery script.

Nothing seemed to make sense; he didn't recognise the area on the local map and didn't understand why people had animal body parts or magical beasts roamed around.

He scanned the room for anything that would help him.

A globe.

He gazed at the object sitting on a wooden desk. He walked to the desk and stared at the globe, a large bronze globe with countries etched onto its surface. Some of the continents had names; others did not. He reached out to the globe. Shirou spun the globe slowly, trying to find anything he recognised.

There was nothing he recognised. Every country, continent and even the oceans do not correlate with Earth whatsoever. On the bottom of the globe, emblazoned on a bronze plate on its stand, read "Terra".

A sick feeling sunk deep into his stomach, and his heart started to soar.

He spun the globe around, trying to find anything familiar. Nothing. Everything was all wrong.

He gazed at the book, Wanting something to compare.

He wasn't in his world anymore. That was obvious enough. Had the grail malfunctioned and sent both him and Miyu to another world? Was she even here in the first place? Is he here all on his own?

He clenched his hands on his pants, fists clutching at the fabric.

"Is something wrong?"

Shirou turned around, surprised.

Shirou found himself face to face with a woman wearing a doctor's coat. Her blue eyes looked tired, like someone who worked until they couldn't sleep, like a woman who was perpetually worn out and worried all the time. Her blue hair was tied in a ponytail, a few strands covering her face. She looked like she was around in her forties.

The woman immediately noticed his wounds.

"Your face is swollen",-She said, giving him a thorough look. She leaned over to inspect him. "How are you feeling?" She asked in a cold and detached tone.

He didn't answer.

"Your legs will need attention" She guided him to the couch, placing one of his arms on her shoulder, limping him to the furniture.

She opened up her medical bag. The bag was a red and white rectangular pouch that could be attached to a strap at the back of the doctor's coat or sling around the doctor's waist. It is lined with soft medical paper and a mesh pouch for tools and other materials.

She grabbed a new roll of bandages, antiseptic spray, gauze and other materials needed for a bandage change.

"Grit your teeth," She said, lifting his legs onto a riser.

Shirou gritted his teeth, bearing through the pain as she carefully cut through the bandages he had on before, revealing the severity of the wounds on his legs.

He could see deep cracks in the skin and deep cuts running up and down his right leg, his left leg worse.

"Endure," She said, dabbing antiseptic into the wounds.

The sensation was sending waves of pain through Shirou's body. A burning sensation like a thousand bee-stings burrowing into his legs, the aching gave way to a wave of cold.

Shirou grunted. She picked up the roll of fresh bandage, wrapping it around each leg of his. She finished wrapping, cutting the dressing and applying a bandage clip. She picked up a bottle of water and a glass, offering them to Shirou.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Shirou said. He gazed at the woman, observing her. She seemed so focused and determined, yet worn out and pale as if she were a cracked piece of a china doll.

"Oh," She said, "My name is Vheel."

"Vheel?" Shirou repeated.

"An alias, I'll inform the mistress that you will be fine," Vheel muttered as she began packing away her medical equipment, writing notes on a form.

"You just need to rest for a while; goodbye" And as quickly as she treated him, she was gone the next moment. She slammed the door behind her. Shirou was left alone.

Shirou stared at the ceiling.

Maybe he did die. That was the most logical explanation; perhaps he was in hell. After that question, the others came, his mind racing at the possibility of this being a dream.

Shirou stood up, leaning on the wall for support. He shuffled towards the door and opened it. Letting the cold air move like a freezing gale, the air bitter enough to burn his throat, like a glacier's breath.

Shirou could barely see the outlines of trees. The crescent moon hung in the air.

The home was where the heart was; he would never feel at home unless it was by Miyu's side. He closed his eyes, his mind and stomach still feeling hollow. He ignored the pain; the numbness ran through his entire body.

His wish, if it had come true, he doubts she would be transported here, but the thought of him being alone pained him to no limit. It was selfish, but if there was any chance of her being in this world with him.

Shirou would chase after it.


A/N: WELCOME NEW READERS! THANKS FOR READING THIS STORY!

EDIT: 09/09/2022: I realised this story had a rubbish first chapter compared to the rest of the story, so I rewrote this chapter to lay a better foundation for the rest while also giving new readers a better time.