Interlude: First Meetings

It was eight at night when Kirei Kotomine entered my house. He told me for the time being I'd be sharing it with his son. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A son? When did this priest ever have a son?

That's when Shirou Kotomine walked out from behind his father.

The moment I saw him, there was something instantly familiar about him. A certain air about him that felt like looking in a mirror. His eyes looked out at me, curious and unsure, but with an underlying sadness that was impossible to ignore. He had lost someone. Someone important to him.

It made sense once Kirei told me he was a survivor from the fire. He had lost a lot more than one person. His home, family, and likely everyone he'd ever known, were burned away by fire.

Kirei told me that until he could arrange better accommodations, Shirou would be staying here. I didn't have much to say on the matter, but neither did the boy. That night, he didn't say a word to me. The priest talked of the different preparations he was making for the boy while he stood there, silently watching me. I tried to give him a smile, but his face remained impassive, betraying no emotion he may have been feeling.

It wasn't till later that night that I finally saw him display a new emotion. I was awoken to muffled noises echoing through the empty halls. I thought about ignoring them, going back to sleep, but something in them gave me pause. I got out of my bed, opening my bedroom door to find that I was right. The cries were coming from the guest room. I moved along the walkway between us, the moon streaming in from the windows lining the path.

I turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. Shirou was curled up under the sheets, his form unmoving save for the rocking of his body with every fearful sob. He looked like he was hurt, trying to close himself off to the pain. I approached him slowly, reaching out my hand to lightly touch his shoulder. He flinched away, sharply intaking his breath. His head turned to face me, and I took an involuntary step back.

His eyes were empty. There was nothing there. It seemed the fire had taken much more than I thought. For Shirou, all that existed right now was the pain and fear of that night, my own form no more than a passing phantom in the flames. His head turned back to face the wall, his gentle sobs never stopping. I realized I'd been holding my breath when he was looking at me. I couldn't say anything. There wasn't a single word I could utter that could ease his pain. Even so, I couldn't leave him like this. Alone with the fire.

I gently pulled back and slipped under the covers. I slowly curled my arm around him, pulling his back close to me. He didn't flinch back this time, but I wasn't sure he even felt me. I wrapped my other arm over him, keeping him close. The sobs slowly faded away, and eventually the only sound that could be heard was his quiet breathing. I'm not sure when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the space next to me was empty.

I carefully propped myself up on my arms, wondering if I had imagined the whole thing. I mean, the notion was a bit absurd, after all. The son of Kotomine? Doesn't make a lot of sense for the priest.

I got up and headed down to the kitchen, wondering what I'd eat today, when I found the boy. Wearing an apron one size to big, he stood on a small stool in front of the burner, a pan wafting steam as he slid a spatula in it. He looked up at me.

His eyes seemed full. Happy and content, like a child's should be. He smiled at me. An easy smile, one that seemed impossible from the boy I found last night.

"Good morning. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Maybe I was the one dreaming now. This boy gave away nothing when he first came here, showed me the burns that remained from the fire last night, and now he was making me breakfast without a worry in the world. Who was this boy?

He gave me curious look.

"Is there something wrong?"

Kirei came by to drop off groceries and clothes for Shirou. He left soon after, promising to return to begin our lessons as soon as he got a few things sorted. The rest of the day passed along quietly. I spent my time practicing magecraft in the workshop with Shirou watching me. He seemed fascinated by the art. I thought about asking if he wanted to try. Who knows, maybe he had magic circuits. But, for now, he seemed content to watch.

When night came, I was once more pulled from sleep by his cries. I went to his bed and laid down next to him. He didn't move back as before. He fell asleep faster than the previous night, possibly finding comfort in my presence. I found him absent as the morning before, already down in the kitchen making breakfast. His warm, easy smile greeted me once again.

The next day, he asked me to teach him what I was doing yesterday. I tried to show him the basics of gemstone magic. It became obvious he was somehow in possession of magic circuits, but he was terrible with gemstones. We spent the day trying to narrow down what it was he could do. He didn't seem to have any of the normal alignments, finding no particular affinity toward any of the five elements, nor did he seem to possess any of the imaginary elements. Was it possible he had an unheard-of element?

In the end, it became clear that the only magecraft he seemed to have any talent in was projection and reinforcement. While both useful, neither was particularly unique among the mage ranks. It was obvious he was never going to be much more than a below-average magus, but when I saw the look in his eyes when he reinforced a piece of paper for the first time, I didn't care.

I decided to be preemptive tonight, going to bed with Shirou from the beginning. When he began shake and whimper, I whispered calmly into his ear, reassuring him he was okay.

The next few days followed the same pattern. I'd wake up, be greeted with breakfast and a smile, practice and teach my magecraft to Shirou, then go to sleep together to start the cycle anew.

Then, one night, things changed. Shirou woke from the same nightmare he always had, and I told him everything was fine. That the fire couldn't get him anymore. But this time, he responded.

"But what if it takes you?" he pushed himself closer to me, his tears hot through my gown. "It took everything else. It'll take you too."

The anxiety in his words. The fear of loss so evident it was painful. When Father died, I pushed those feelings down, trying to be brave for him. It was only when Kirei gave me the Azoth Sword that I could hold them in no longer. It felt like, despite what I had lost, he was still there. Shirou didn't have that. The fire took everything from him. How could he lose more?

"No. It won't," I placed my hand on his head, running my fingers softly through his hair. "No matter what it takes from you, I'll always be here."

He grew quiet at my words, and I thought for a moment that he had fallen back to sleep.

I won't let it."

His words bore all the pain and fear from before, but there was something else. Something strong and sure. A promise he would try to keep.

"I'll become stronger. I won't let it take you."

I giggled at that. I couldn't help it. This boy whom I comforted each night, whom gave me a pure smile free from worry or obligation every morning, was promising me he wouldn't let me go. Despite the absurdity of the claim, I found myself unable to doubt his words.

"My hero."

After that, Shirou didn't have any trouble falling asleep. I stayed with him a few nights more just to be sure, but he never awoke in fear again. What's more, he took to my lessons with greater fervor, training harder every day at the only magecraft he was good at. He began making weapons, projecting them and practicing with them behind the house, fighting unseen foes. While I studied further into the intricacies of magecraft, he worked on reinforcing both his body and weapons beyond their capabilities.

Eventually, Kirei began taking us away in the day to train in martial arts. Kirei was an effective teacher, though he had no patience for those who couldn't work at the same pace as him.

The nights after we slept separately were as they had always been before he came. But, by the fourth night, I began to feel like the bed was empty or missing something. Like I was missing something. I hugged my pillow. It seems he wasn't the only one who drew comfort from another's presence.

But it was okay. Because I knew that, when I woke up, he would be waiting there. With an easy smile that warmed my heart and a delicious breakfast, he'd be waiting for me. And that was enough.

A smile on my face, I drifted off to sleep.