Author's note: Thank you everyone who pointed out my lore error concerning Avalon last chapter. As embarrassing as it was, it's also much appreciated. Hopefully a longer chapter makes up for things.
"It's so frustrating! I always feel like I'm driving the whole thing, and he's just going through the motions." Rin's hold tightened on the watering can. "Like he doesn't care at all."
Sakura twined flowers into the wreath as her sister ranted, careful not to break the soft green stems.
Azaleas for patience, red carnations for admiration, violets for shyness…
Often blooms expressed the feelings that people found so hard to put into words. It was a shame that Neesan's pride wouldn't allow her to rely on them, or admit how badly she struggled with expressing softer emotions. Then again, Shirou was too guileless to see anything but greenery no matter how many bouquets were thrown at his door. Anything but the most blatant messages would be lost on him.
Sakura had learned that to her own detriment all those years ago.
"I'm happy with whatever you want to do.'" A most unladylike snort came from her sister. "I'd be happyto know he's actually into this."
The unspoken words 'into me' might as well have been screamed for the way they echoed in the greenhouse.
Closing up the flower shop could take Sakura several hours on bad days, when the orders and the cleaning piled up. An extra pair of hands was always welcome, and the work provided an excuse to tear Neesan away from her magecraft for a few hours. That had been difficult in the years immediately following her return from London, but more and more these days Rin took the bait when it was offered.
"Come on, Rin," said Ayako from the counter, where she had just finished counting out the receipts. "I find it really hard to believe he never suggests anything."
"Only if I put him on the spot." A sigh and a gurgle of water as the can was refilled. "And even then, I'm pretty sure he's tossing out stuff that he thinks I'd like, or that he's done on past dates. What he's expected to do. Not anything he's actually interested in."
"You know, a lot of women would enjoy that." Ayako tilted her head. "They're always complaining that their boyfriends won't make compromises for them."
"This isn't about compromises!" Rin snapped. "It's about knowing that I'm not… I don't know, wasting my time." Her shoulders slumped as she absently over-watered the lilies.
"You don't think he likes you," said Sakura carefully, setting the wreath aside to fully focus on her sibling.
The other woman shook her head. "It's not that. I'm fairly sure he does, that's what drives me crazy about it. Every time we go somewhere, he's stiff at first but gradually he starts having fun. He opens up and I feel like I'm actually making a connection." She bit her fingernail as she put the can away. "Then… I don't know. It's like as soon as he realizes it, the barrier slams down. I'm alone again, even if he's physically there."
Neesan's face suddenly paled. "Oh no," she groaned. "Sakura, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be complaining about this to you, of all people."
"It's okay," said Sakura with a half-shrug. "It's always nice to see Shirou, but I don't feel that way about him anymore."
Rin relaxed a little, though some tension lingered in her brow. "I guess he really is an idiot, if he was able to drive you away. You would have done anything for him back then."
Sakura inclined her head. "Yes. He was my only light during some of my darkest years." Ignoring her sibling's wince, she put the violets back on the high shelf. "But you can only wait so long before you move on."
Two years, in her case. After she had finally been freed from the worms in her body and the poison in her soul, she had thought herself ready to confess to her sun. To her despair, she had encountered the same thing that was now plaguing her sister. However often Senpai welcomed her with a smile, there was always that same nagging sense that she was being held at bay.
The trembling in her hand made Sakura grip the shelf to steady herself. Memories floated up of cooking in Senpai's kitchen, sharing laughter and eagerly waiting for a next step that never came…
The sting had faded years ago. But watching it happen again, even from a distance, made it sharp again. Then a shoulder brushed against hers, and Ayako's comforting presence was at her side. Sakura smiled and leaned into it, feeling her partner's warmth even through the cloth separating them.
A small cough made them both glance up. Neesan was trying to look stern despite the small flush in her cheeks and the brightening of her eyes.
Sakura gave her a completely unapologetic smile. "And I'm very happy where I ended up," she said, then interlocked her fingers with Ayako's and gave her hand a gentle but heartfelt squeeze.
Rin made a face. "You two are so sweet I think I'm going to be sick."
Ayako proudly placed a kiss on Sakura's knuckle, letting her lips linger provocatively on the skin, before beaming at her once-rival. "You're just jealous because you lost our bet. Years ago, no less."
"Disqualified!" said Neesan, wagging her finger. "That bet was about boyfriends, not girlfriends."
"Going to argue on technicalities? You're such a sore loser, Rin."
"Serves you right, if you're going to bring up our school days." A nostalgic smile spread across her face. "I was pretty competitive back then."
"You still are," sighed Ayako. "You've just coated it under ice."
Neesan crossed her arms."We aren't having this conversation again," she said, her voice taking on a hint of the old steel that Sakura despised, the steel that reminded her of another Tohsaka. "I'm the Second Owner of Fuyuki. I have too many responsibilities to play around anymore. I'll keep up my magecraft and the leylines, and eventually I'll marry someone with the right pedigree and pass things al—"
"You don't really mean that," interrupted Sakura, injecting a little sharpness into her tone.
It had the desired effect when Rin's face crumpled. "I don't know anymore." Wrapping her arms around herself, she slumped into a nearby chair. "By every magus standard, it's what I should do. Anything less means betraying all the trust that was placed in me. But after what I saw… no, what we all saw…"
There was no need to say anything more. The War had burned an indelible brand in all of their minds. A decade of violation and crushing misery had made Sakura think herself dead to all emotion until those crimson nights had taught her stark terror. Ayako had been thrown into the Moonlit World in a storm of blood and fire. And Neesan's eyes were ripped open to the monstrous truth of her inheritance.
That she might propose continuing on like before, raising an heir in the magus tradition as if the War had never happened… as if Zouken had never happened… it made Sakura want to scream.
The only saving grace was that Rin seemed to be having serious doubts, too. Maybe even inclined to give up the cold duty of a magus in favour of living like a human, if her interest in Shirou was an honest one. But Sakura wasn't willing to take that on faith. Even if she loved her sister (fitfully and awkwardly), even if she had no intentions towards him anymore, she wouldn't stand by and let Neesan hurt someone as fundamentally good as Shirou.
She cleared her throat and gave her sibling a pointed stare. "Answer me honestly for once, Neesan. Are you serious about Shirou?"
Rin's gaze fell to her hands, curled on the vinyl of the countertop. "I want to be," she said quietly. "But I can't. Not when he keeps holding himself back like that." Her fingers tightened. "I've learned my lesson about reaching for things I can't have."
"Don't take it personally," said Ayako with a sigh. "Emiya is broken. Has been for years. Even back in school, he'd drop everything as soon as someone mentioned they needed help. Do you know why, Rin?"
"To make people like him, I guess," said Neesan, although she sounded unconvinced. "It definitely wasn't for advancement."
"No," said Sakura firmly. "Senpai—Shirou never cared if people thanked him or not. He just places everyone's needs over his own. Because he doesn't value himself." She would have wrung her hands if Ayako had not still been holding onto one. "He had so much trouble believing anyone would want to come help him. I practically had to force my way through his door, the first few times."
Rin chewed her lip as she mulled that over. "It can't be that bad. Nobody could live like that."
"Have you ever seen him laugh?" challenged Ayako. "I don't mean smiling or cracking a joke. I mean an honest belly laugh."
The fingers on the counter tightened more, until they were practically claws. "No," muttered Neesan, sounding almost offended.
"No one has. Not even Taiga, and she looked after him for years." Ayako shook her head. "She stayed single just so she could keep an eye on him, that's how much he worried her."
"But El-Melloi—"
"It's like I said earlier," interjected Sakura. "People can only put their lives on hold for so long. She still checks in every week, of course. And Makami-san does his best."
Rin's fingers tapped angrily on the counter. "That… that can't be healthy," she muttered to herself. "I think I already know the answer, but is he in therapy?"
Ayako's mouth tightened. "Taiga sent him for a little while, when things didn't get better after high school. I think he mostly went to please her," she snorted. "Everything's confidential, so who knows what they talked about. All that changed is that he got better at smiling to try and make people stop worrying about him."
Rin snorted. "Doesn't seem like it worked very well."
"Not on the people who know him," said Sakura, then looked her straight in the eye. "Or try to, anyway."
Message received loud and clear, from the way Neesan winced. Sakura felt a small rush of vindictive satisfaction. For all her complaints about Shirou's behaviour over the last few weeks, Rin had not considered what might push him to act in such a self-effacing manner. She had been too caught up in what she wanted from the man.
A familiar sentiment, one that made Sakura wince in turn. Back in her days haunting Shirou's doorstep, she had spent hours longing for her sun to pull her close and warm her. When it became clear he couldn't or wouldn't see her in that light, she had blamed herself as tainted and broken. It had taken her years healing from her own trauma before she could really consider what nightmare might have left its scars on Shirou. And for all that she knew he would forgive her in a heartbeat, she had trouble forgiving herself. It was easy to transfer some of that gnawing guilt onto her haughty sister, watching her make a similar mistake.
Another silence filled the room as Rin stared into the distance, seemingly digesting everything she had just learned. Leaving her to it, Sakura did a final check of the locks while Ayako closed the till for the night. When they returned, the woman was rubbing wearily at her forehead. She frowned when she saw them approach.
"Alright," she said tiredly. "So Emiya's just generally screwed up, rather than screwed up in particular to me. That doesn't change anything. No, if anything it confirms that I should break it off."
Sakura felt her stomach drop. Even if she held some reservations, she had hoped things might somehow work out for the two most impossible people in her life. A marked change from her old self, who would have rejoiced to see her perfect sister stumble and fall. But Sakura herself was in a happier place now, and Neesan's star long since tarnished.
What could she say to steer things back on track? Should she even want to? The words were still tripping themselves up in her mouth when Ayako gave a dramatic shrug beside her.
"You know what? You're absolutely right, Rin," she said in a careless tone that immediately had the other woman's hackles up. "We should be satisfied with what life hands us. Go ahead and choose one of your official suitors—"
"Wait, how do you even kn—tch, damn that tiger!"
Ayako continued as if she hadn't said a word. "—and consign yourself to forty years of misery waking up next to a guy you can't stand, raising a kid to carry on something you don't believe in anymore." It was her turn to cross her arms. "Or maybe you can just stay an old maid forever. I'm sure you'll have no regrets about that."
Rin's face had gone quite pale, her brows twitching in fury. "That's quite enough—!"
"Emiya will be just fine too," said Ayako relentlessly, amber eyes gleaming. "Bury himself in cases and subside on take-out, always burning himself to keep others warm, until he keels over of a heart attack at forty—"
Two fists slammed into the counter. "The hell he will!" snarled Rin as she jerked to her feet. "I'm going to punch through to that idiot, if it's the last thing I do!" Hurriedly she grabbed her bag, then tried to regain her composure, with limited success. "Sorry, Sakura. I just remembered I have some things I need to do this evening."
Sakura nodded. "That's alright, Neesan. I'll just add the missed hours to your tab."
Rin's lips quirked upwards for a moment, then anger took hold of her again as she marched towards the exit. The door banged shut with enough force to shake the frame.
Sakura sighed, then turned to see Ayako looking out the window with an aggravated frown.
"Those idiots," said her partner. "They make me want to pull my hair out sometimes."
"At least you know how to push Neesan's buttons," laughed Sakura, although there was a touch of sorrow there, too.
Eight years after the War and all its changes, the undeniable fact was that Ayako understood her sister better than Sakura did. She and Neesan tried, they really did, but ten years of estrangement and complicated feelings had left their mark.
An angry huff broke her thoughts. She turned to see Ayako wrinkling her nose. "That woman is absolutely impossible. She already knows she wants to be a human more than a magus, but she's too proud to let go of it by herself. Then she goes and brushes off everything we tell her."
Sakura couldn't help but give a wry smile. "Just like Shirou brushes off all the advice everyone gives him."
"Exactly." Ayako sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. "Fine. I can see I'm going to have to intervene here, or these two idiots are going to dance around each other forever." She took a deep breath before grinning at Sakura. "I may need to rile Rin up a bit more later. For now, let's have a talk with that stupid, stupid man."
They grabbed their coats and stepped out into the street, already shadowed by nightfall. The key scraped in the lock as Sakura pushed it home, then dropped it carefully into her purse. The light ahead was just turning red when she turned and gave Ayako a look.
"You never stepped in on my behalf with Shirou," she said with a touch of reproach.
Ayako gave an awkward shrug. "I kind of wanted him for myself back then, yeah?" Sakura's giggle made her smile ruefully. "And by the time I got over that... Well, by then I had selfish reasons not to help that connection along."
Fingers snuck around Sakura's own and squeezed them tight, making her hum with delight. Despite the chilling wind and their warm pockets, it was a long time before they let go again.
The blue scarf caught Shirou's eye as he ambled by the store window. He wasn't usually interested in clothes, but it was easy to imagine it draped on Tohsaka's shoulders instead of the mannequin. It looked like soft wool, the kind that would fray a little in the washing machine, but afterwards hold up to years of use. Not her usual style, in either texture or colour, but it would look nice on her.
Not that Shirou would consider himself an expert or anything, but he liked to think he was starting to understand the woman who had unexpectedly inserted herself into his life. They had been on a few more expeditions since that day by the riverside, to plazas and parks and even the batting cages, where Tohsaka had socked away baseballs with vicious glee.
Where he might have once been surprised at the wildcat lurking under the prim and proper lady, now he knew exactly what to expect when he'd challenged her to a match. His shoulders still ached, and one of the balls had its cover ripped off entirely from the force of their strikes.
He found himself smiling. Worth it.
His eyes strayed to the scarf again. He wondered how it would feel between his fingers, and how angrily Tohsaka's cheeks would flush when he tugged on it to pull her closer.
The image pleasantly lingered for a few seconds before a sigh left his mouth. That little fantasy proved that buying it would actually be a gift for himself, not for Tohsaka. He should stick to the red cashmere he knew she wore, or better yet, take her to the store and let her choose for herself.
Two schoolgirls walking arm-in-arm had to do a stumbling shuffle to get around Shirou, still gazing through the window. Their high laughter brought him back to the present. Time was wearing on and people were expecting him.
The bells on the door of the Excelsior cafe tinkled as Shirou walked in. Mitsuzuri and Sakura were already there, sitting at a corner table. There were water glasses placed in front of them, but it looked like they hadn't ordered their drinks proper yet. Good, that meant they hadn't been waiting long. Mitsuzuri's face lit up when she spotted him.
"Hey, Emiya! Over here!" she enthusiastically greeted as she waved him over. Sakura's greeting was more subdued, a welcoming smile as she handed him one of the menus.
"Mitsuzuri, Sakura," he nodded. "It's good to see you both."
The teacher gave him a lopsided grin as she rested her chin on her folded hands. "Same to you. It's been too long, Emiya. Glad you finally freed up some time for us today."
Shirou suppressed a wince as he thought of the filings sitting on his desk, the ones due by noon Wednesday. Making time for Tohsaka had already dug into his schedule, but he didn't mind if it was her. He had already decided he would make her smile, as he strived to make his clients smile. It was the same thing.
(Part of him insisted it really wasn't, but he drowned it in work and black coffee)
In contrast, his two friends seemed happy enough without his intervention. He enjoyed sipping tea at their apartment or running into them at the grocery store, but he knew he wasn't essential to the happiness they had found in each other. It made it harder to justify neglecting his cases to meet today, even if he sorely missed them.
His eyes scanned distractedly over the menu offerings. "You mentioned you had something important to talk about."
"That's right." Mitsuzuri's grin sharpened at the corners. "But now that we have you here, you're not getting away without some catching up between old friends."
He groaned. "Ayako, I have a lot of work—"
"She's right." Sakura's airy voice interrupted him. "It's so rare to see you these days, Shirou. Please?"
Impossible to resist those pleading violet eyes. Shirou had a pretty good idea why the Mount Miyama flower shop's sales had jumped after Sakura became its owner. But even without that, his friends were making it only too clear that they had missed him too. That they wanted to know about how his life was going, and share news about theirs in turn. They wouldn't hold it against him if he insisted that they cut to the chase or even turned around and headed back out the door, but their hearts would weigh a little heavier.
Really too troublesome.
So he gave in, pulling off his coat and settling back on the plush cushion of his chair. "Alright, I guess I can spare a little while. How have you two been?"
The sudden pride in the teacher's face, combined with the calendar date, gave him some inkling. "I take it the Fall archery meet went well?"
"It sure did!" enthused Mitsuzuri. "We have a really good crop of juniors this year. None of them quite up to your old standard, Shirou—"
"Mitsuzuri, it's been years—" he grumbled, though he couldn't help but feel a bit flattered that she still thought so highly of him.
Undeterred, she plowed on. "— but once Moriyama gets through with them, they'll be in fighting shape for spring—"
Sakura giggled behind her hand and winked at Shirou, even as her partner waxed eloquent on the virtues of the new archery captain. "She said that last year, too," she confided in a whisper.
"And were they—?" he asked
A small shake of the head and another suppressed laugh was all the answer he needed.
Two iced matcha lattes were placed in front of the women, while Shirou requested a simple black coffee. With their drinks taken care of, everything became that much more relaxed.
Conversation bloomed around the small table, falling into the old patterns that Shirou was intimately familiar with. Mitsuzuri had none lost of her boldness over the years—if anything, teaching had only strengthened her voice—and the bold red of her talk was punctuated by cheerful laughter and sly insinuations. Sakura was a deep blue, gentle and soothing words that suddenly cut like ice whether she wanted to drive home a point.
The pattern they wove together was both pleasant and nostalgic, and Shirou found himself wondering why he didn't see these two more often.
A small beep signalling a message on his phone. Right, that's why.
The involuntarily stiffening of his shoulders wasn't missed by either of his companions. They exchanged a glance, then faced him with uncharacteristically serious expressions.
Mitsuzuri put down the straw she'd been playing with. "Thanks for indulging us, Shirou. But before we let you go, there's something we need to talk about."
"Sure, go ahead."
His brow furrowed as he tried to think of what could be bothering his friends. It couldn't be anything urgent, or they wouldn't have insisted on chatting for a while first. Maybe they needed legal advice after Sakura caught an employee with her hand in the till or something.
He just hoped it wasn't another talk about his long hours and why he apparently felt a compulsive need to punish himself with work. Saving people to atone for his sin was the only path open to him, but Shirou's experiences with Kiritsugu and Fuji-nee told him people grew uncomfortable when he put it in such stark terms.
Sakura hesitated for a moment, then pressed her lips together. "It's about Neesan."
That was unexpected, and Shirou found himself blinking at her. "Tohsaka? Is everything alright with her?"
She had seemed in good spirits when he'd dropped her off at home the other day, but maybe she'd overdone it at the batting cages too. Then again, she couldn't complain too much. The whole thing had been her idea, even if Shirou might have prodded the beast once they'd stepped through the doors.
"It's a bit complicated," said Sakura, cupping her hands around her glass of half-consumed latte. "We're glad you two are spending time together, but… well, you're sending her mixed messages."
Surprise and irritation prickled across Shirou's skin, and he took a long sip of too-hot coffee to steady himself. I'm the one sending mixed messages? Tohsaka always feels like she's testing me somehow.
"I don't see how," he said once the cup was back down. "Every time she suggests an outing, I pencil it into my schedule. Maybe not as quickly as she'd like, but—"
"Every time she suggests," interrupted Mitsuzuri, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. "Do you ever call her up with tickets in hand?"
"Huh? Well, not always tickets. But when she mentions she'd like to go somewhere, I try to look into it."
There was a charge in the glances exchanged by the two women, one he knew didn't bode well for him. Shirou crossed his arms, still unsure of what they were getting at.
"That's normal, isn't it? I mean, I don't want to take Tohsaka somewhere she wouldn't like."
"Are they also things that you want to do, Emiya? Something meaningful to you?" asked Mitsuzuri.
His lips pressed into a stubborn line. "That's not important."
Sakura gazed into the green and white swirls of her own drink. "It never is with you."
There was wistfulness in her tone, but also a brittle disapproval that made his stomach knot up. Shirou's brows creased into an irritated line. This was getting as roundabout as some of his conversations with Tohsaka herself, and he wished they'd get to the point already.
"Look, what exactly is the problem?" he said. "As long as Tohsaka is happy, I don't mind."
Mitsuzuri snorted. "That's exactly the problem, Emiya. She isn't."
Barbed wire coiled around Shirou's heart and pulled tight. A vision of brilliant blue eyes set atop a winning smile made him want to argue, but it was marred by other impressions from their outings. Tohsaka's brows pinched in frustration when she judged he'd agreed to something too easily. The way her mouth tightened sometimes, when she caught him deep in thought. Most of all, the shadow in her gaze each time he saw her off at her manor gates.
"I…" His hand clenched around his cup. "Then I'll try harder. I'll keep trying until that spark is back in her eyes."
Even if he wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, he'd figure it out.
Mitsuzuri's sigh could have cut glass. "Emiya, just tell me one thing. Please tell me you're not treating her as a project." His blank expression made her mouth twist into a grimace. "Are you dating her because you actually like her? Or are you trying to fix her, like one of your clients?"
The accusation made him flinch, even as it set his mind spinning. Something hot and not entirely comfortable flared up in his chest as he thought of Tohsaka's teasing smirk.
"I do," he said after a moment, "even if she's the most infuriating woman I've ever met."
Because even if he meant to release her once her flame was lit again, he knew he would look back fondly on his time with her. Aloof and adorable in turns, her facade a complicated puzzle to hide the tender heart he could spot underneath. Clever too, and proud to show it off at the merest excuse. Shirou smiled as he imagined her here drinking coffee with them, calmly dissecting each of Mitsuzuri's insinuations.
A discreet cough from the other side of the table jolted him out of his thoughts. Sakura was hiding another smile behind her hands. Mitsuzuri was still frowning, though her mouth had softened around the corners.
"Hmph, she owes me big time for this," murmured Mitsuzuri, before leaning towards Shirou with bright eyes. "Alright, let me spell things out for you. Rin likes you, a lot. Even if she's too proud to come out and say it directly."
"Oh," he said, feeling heat creep up his face.
Well, it wasn't exactly a surprise. Not with the way her composure cracked whenever he smiled at her, leaving her to huff and hurriedly smooth it back over. But hearing it said out loud… sweat gathered at the nape of his neck.
Mitsuzuri sighed and spread her hands wide. "But she can't tell if you feel the same. That's why you're making her unhappy."
His confusion must have shown on his face, because Sakura shook her head. "Listen, Shirou. Neesan can tell when you're suggesting things just for her sake, and it upsets her. It makes her feel like she's burdening you. Like seeing her is a chore, not a pleasure."
Shirou shook his head. "That's not true at all."
Because Tohsaka enjoying herself freed him to have fun too, without the shroud of guilt that suffocated him when he tried to do so on his own account. That was already more than he deserved, so it really didn't matter if some of the shops left him itching with boredom, or if the queues made him long for the documents stacked on his desk.
"Doesn't matter," snapped Mitsuzuri, twisting the straw between her fingers. "That's the impression you give."
Shirou's brows creased. If he really was making her upset, then maybe he should let her go. Release her for the next guy, who could make her entirely and uncomplicatedly happy.
Or I can shift my approach and keep seeing her. Before he could stop it, the greedy impulse had commandeered his mouth.
"Then what should I do?" he found himself asking.
"Try being a little more selfish," said Mitsuzuri before taking a long sip of her drink.
He blinked.
"If all Neesan wants is an escort, she can get that easily," said Sakura, not without a trace of old bitterness. "If she insists on taking you, it's because she wants to share the experience with you. With Emiya Shirou."
Shirou shook his head. As nice as that sounded, he wasn't arrogant enough to think himself all that special. Whatever Tohsaka saw in him, there were doubtless others that met the same criteria, and that without the sin he'd carried for more than a decade.
Apparently oblivious to his internal torment, Sakura waved a hand and continued. "It took a long time for me to learn this, but… keeping barriers with people isn't good, Shirou. Not with the people you want to make happy."
Seemingly unconsciously, she reached out and took Mitsuzuri's hand, putting a pleased smile on the other woman's face. "You have to open yourself up, and let yourself get swept along. Part of that means insisting on what you want sometimes, too."
"Besides…" interrupted Mitsuzuri as she shot him a wink. "Rin gets bored if she's not challenged. And you're really good at knocking her down a few pegs."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And how exactly would you know that, Mitsuzuri?"
The woman laughed and tapped the side of her nose. "Secret of the trade!"
Meaning, he suspected, a talent for pulling gossip from even the most obstinate sources. A fond smile tugged at his mouth. She really was Fuji-nee's successor, in more ways than the obvious.
Leaning back in his chair again, he forced himself to digest their advice. What they said made sense when he considered it in the abstract. But when he tried to apply it to himself…
"I don't deserve to be selfish." He flinched when he realized he had said it out loud.
But not as much as when Sakura's palm slammed down on the table. "Stop it, Shirou!"
Anger shook her slender shoulders as she rounded on him. Hastily she brushed away the arm Mitsuzuri tried to place around her, her eyes flashing violet as she glared at him.
"After all this time, you still… this is exactly why it never worked out between us." Her mouth twisted with old hurt. "Because you put so little value on yourself. Because you can't bear to think that we love you, and we worry about you. That it hurts us when you're unhappy."
"Sakura…" he murmured, unable to look away.
A distant echo of another voice buzzed in his ears; Taiga trembling with furious relief as she loomed over the hospital bed.
"I won't let you do this again, Shirou." Her finger jabbed towards him, almost hitting him between the eyes. "Not to Neesan, and not to yourself."
She held his gaze a second more, shivering with unleashed emotion, before primly setting herself back down in her seat and picking up her cooling latte. The look she shot him over it could still have boiled water, though. Shirou found his skin prickling under it.
If even Sakura, normally a bastion of patience and controlled grace, felt this strongly about it…
Shirou didn't think he was wrong. He had lived this way for eighteen years, ever since Kiritusgu had pulled him from the fire and shown him that smile, the one Shirou still chased with all his heart. It wasn't wrong to try and save people, he was sure of it.
But maybe he could reach for other things too.
"Well, if you think it would make Tohsaka happy…" he said, not quite ready to put words to the jumbled ball of emotions in his chest.
Mitsuzuri's exasperated sigh wouldn't have been out of place in a three hour teachers' conference. "You should try being happy for your own sake, you know. But I guess this is a step in the right direction."
"I'm so glad you approve," said Shirou, letting a touch of dry sarcasm color his words before he could stop himself. Tohsaka really was a bad influence on him.
Rather than annoying Mitsuzuri, it brought a warm smile to her lips as she traced the rim of her empty cup. "Listen, Emiya… I don't know what happened to make you think you're not valuable, but you are. Don't insult us by suggesting we'd waste our time on someone that wasn't worth it, okay?"
Sakura gave an empathic nod, affection pushing out her lingering anger. "Ayako and I… we're your friends. If you ever want to talk, we're here for you."
Gratitude painted his heart in warm colors, even if he felt guilty for worrying his friends. "I know. And I appreciate it." And he really did, even if he knew he could never impose on them like that. "You've given me a lot to think about."
Checking his phone for time, he hurriedly finished the last of his coffee in one big gulp. "Sorry to cut things off. But if that's everything, I really need to get back to it."
"One last thing," grinned Mitsuzuri, recovering some of her usual cheer. "Make sure to use protection, okay? Don't be quite that selfish."
Right, thought Shirou as he left the shop, Mitsuzuri's laughter and Sakura's half-hearted admonishments still ringing in ears flushed red with embarrassment. That's the other reason I don't see them more often.
"The forest trails at the top? Well, I can't say I've ever been…" said Rin, following Shirou's gaze up the stone steps etched into the mountainside.
"Not a lot of people go there unless they're visiting the cemetery. But there's something I want to show you."
Towering pines and golden-orange ferns stood on either side like ceremonial guards, welcoming visitors up to the blue-tiled front gate just visible at the top.
Well, any other visitor, reflected Rin as the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
Approaching the temple grounds, even if she didn't actually enter them, was a violation of her unspoken accord with Ryuudou Issei. Although age had mellowed them both, she could still expect a stiff letter of complaint if the monk spotted her.
No matter. Rin would happily take the displeasure of a thousand Isseis to join Shirou today, especially when he'd shown up at her door without warning or apology. On a Wednesday afternoon no less, despite his punishing work schedule. It was all entirely out of pattern, which made it both exciting and more nerve-wracking than she cared to admit.
"Hmph. You've already dragged me out this far, so let's go up and see it," she said, then gave him a wicked smirk. "I hope for your sake it's worth the hike. If not, can you imagine what might happen?"
Not a serious threat, of course, but it didn't hurt to put him on the defensive. It would help mask the eagerness bubbling up in her veins, and a woman had her pride.
"You'll sulk like a child?" he shrugged, although there was a telltale twinkle in his eye.
Damn him. All the more so because she couldn't get properly angry at him, not when he managed to be so infuriatingly charming about it. Instead she huffed and marched up the first few steps.
Only to have him catch her arm and gently pull her back. "Wait just a moment, Tohsaka."
"Haa? But the sooner we get started, the sooner we'll g—" Her mouth snapped shut when he draped something soft and warm over her shoulders.
Shirou's gaze was almost solemn as he tied the scarf at the base of her throat. "It gets cold up there, so it's best to dress warm."
Wonderingly, she rubbed the blue wool between her fingers. When she glanced over at Shirou, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He was watching her intently, his eyes smiling even more brightly than his mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks and she snapped her gaze back up the path.
"R-right," she stammered. "Thank you." She started climbing the steps again, hoping the chill in the wind would steady her. "I guess they didn't have it in red."
It was a small joke at her own expense. Even Shirou, oblivious to fashion as he was, must have noticed certain patterns in her clothing by this point.
But the redhead looked entirely serious as he stepped up beside her, his shoulder briefly brushing against hers.
"I like it in blue," he said. "It brings out your eyes."
The heat in Rin's face intensified; by now she had to be a flaming wreck. Instinctively she reached up to pull the scarf more tightly around her, and felt hard plastic scrape against her fingers. Glancing down, she discovered a black cat pinned on the fabric.
"Did you put that there?" she asked, grateful for the distraction even as she puffed out her cheeks. "What am I, twelve?"
"If you don't like it, I'll take it back," he said, entirely unruffled as he reached for the pin.
Gently she brushed his hand away. "Leave it. You put it there, after all." Her strides ate up a bit more distance before she murmured under her breath, "Even I know when to give in."
That, and the pin really was cute. It reminded her of the cheerful cat pattern on the pyjamas she used to wear for comfort as a teenager, on nights when she felt particularly stressed. Although made from cool plastic, the adornment felt like it radiated some of that same warmth.
Now if only Shirou's sigh didn't sound quite so satisfied as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets. Rin felt torn between sniping at him, or tolerating it so she could bask in the moment. Between the fresh scent of the surrounding pines and the fluttering in her stomach, she swiftly settled on the latter.
They were three quarters of the way up to the torii gate when Shirou abruptly pulled her between two cedar trees. Her cry of protest died on her lips as she took in the brown earth and leafy canopy of a forest trail. It was hard to see very far ahead, the path winding haphazardly around trees and rocks, and Rin was grateful she was wearing boots instead of her usual heels.
"Do the monks know this is here?" she asked as she followed close behind him, the trail too narrow to accommodate more than single file.
"Of course," answered Shirou with an easy shrug of shoulders, stepping over a particularly gnarled set of ancient roots. "But they don't mind. Sometimes people need space to be alone with their thoughts."
There was a weight to his words, a subtle loneliness that made Rin's heart tighten in her chest. Quite possibly Shirou wasn't even aware of it, but that didn't stop the odd mixture of guilt and gratitude she felt flowing through her. Guilt for only now realizing that the man was suffering, and for her inability to soothe that ache—for Rin could hardly give lessons on something she wasn't close to mastering herself. Gratitude that he would share this side of him with her, even if unconsciously. The trust it implied was difficult for a magus to accept, but all the more real for it.
So when Shirou eventually lapsed into silence, lost in his own thoughts, Rin didn't push for conversation. Instead, she drank in her surroundings. Sunlight filtered through rustling leaves, and every step kicked up the scent of wet loam, but it wasn't unpleasant.
It had been a long time since Rin felt this close to the land she claimed as Second Owner, felt it as sacred life running under her feet rather than a cold map of leylines and calculations. A gift even more meaningful than the cloth wrapped around her neck, and one that filled her with just as much warmth, even if its giver had no idea.
Then Shirou led her through a thicket into open sky, and the blood froze in her veins.
Why here, of all places?
The small cliff and the view of the city below were achingly familiar, even after close to a decade. Because although Rin hadn't been lying when she told Shirou she had never climbed the mountain paths, she had definitely been here before.
Strong arms wrapped around her as he bounded up the cliffside with inhuman agility, his red mantle whipping wildly in the biting wind of a winter night.
This had been one of Archer's favoured vantage points during the War. The Servant had insisted it offered a better view of the city than her own suggestion of Center Tower, while being less exposed to enemies. At the time, with the pressures of the War hanging over them, she had easily accepted what seemed like pragmatism. Looking back on it, he'd seemed almost wistful...
Gritting her teeth, Rin fiercely pushed away the memories and the tangled web of emotions that came with them. This was about the present (future, she briefly thought before correcting herself), not the past. And after Shirou brought her all the way up here, she could at least give him her full attention.
The large rock by the edge was surprisingly comfortable when they sat down on it, worn smooth by wind and rain. It really was a beautiful view by daylight, Fuyuki at peace among the green pines and the patchwork of old and new roofs.
"Kiritsugu used to take me up here on hikes, sometimes," said Shirou, gaze lost somewhere in the distance. "He said the mountain air would force the last of the smoke out from my lungs. Honestly, I think he wanted to show me the plants and the animals, life moving on even after disaster. So I would move on too, even if he wouldn't let himself do the same."
Questions flooded Rin's mouth, and it was only with considerable effort that she managed to swallow them back down. This was about what Shirou wanted to share, not what she wanted to know, even if she burned with curiosity.
"I haven't mentioned him before, have I?" Idly the redhead picked up a loose pebble and turned it over in his hands. "He was my adoptive father, even if I didn't know him very long."
Didn't know him very long… does that mean he died?
Rin's stomach roiled. She already knew Shirou was an orphan, Sakura had said as much, but to lose a second father on top of that… a real father, from the affection in his voice, nothing like that empty shell of a priest…
"What happened?" she whispered, unable to stop herself.
"He had to leave," said Shirou, his mouth trembling. He looked smaller as he drew his shoulders in, a lonely boy rather than the confident man she had come to know. "I wanted to go with him, but Kiritsugu forbade it. He said it was too dangerous."
She pinched her lips. "How old…?"
"Eight." He gave a shaky laugh. "The way Kiritsugu's face twisted up… I know he wanted to stay with me longer, and felt guilty that he couldn't. It was only nine months after the fire, and I was starting to walk again. Not just physically, I mean. In life too, I guess. I didn't really want to, most days, but he'd take a drag on his cigarette and look at me so expectantly that I found myself walking anyway."
The fire. Here in Fuyuki, that was all too likely to mean the blaze that ended the Fourth War. Another price paid for failed magecraft, this time by ordinary people. Another spike of guilt stabbed at her heart.
"But whatever it was Kiritsugu had to do, he was running out of time," continued Shirou, his grip tightening on the pebble. "He said he would likely fail, but he'd regret it forever if he didn't try."
A sigh drifted through the air, weighed down with sympathy. It took Rin a moment to realize it was her own. Fortunately Shirou didn't seem to mind, only giving her a small smile before looking back towards the landscape below.
"His sleeve. I remember reaching for it then, when he turned away. When he wouldn't meet my eyes."
A snap of his arm, and the pebble went sailing far into the air before disappearing somewhere in the pine branches far below.
"Then I let my hand drop away," said Shirou, his smile taking on shades of a grimace. "He didn't talk much about his old life, no matter how much I begged him. But even without that, I knew. Everything about Kiritsugu screamed that he was a man who knew all about regrets. How could I selfishly ask him to take on more for me?"
"Shirou…"
"Kiritsugu saved me, and now he was going to save someone else. And maybe he'd smile again, the one he showed me that day through the smoke and ashes." Shirou's fingers traced his lips before falling away. "I wanted him to be happy, Tohsaka. I owed him so much."
Rin shifted uncomfortably on the rock as she listened. Debts were dangerous things in the world of magi, liable to be cashed in secrets, blood, or worse. To hear Shirou speak of owning someone with gratitude in his voice, instead of cold obligation… it was a passage in a foreign book, written in a language indecipherable to her mind. But somehow, it spoke loud and clear to her heart.
"So I told him to stay safe, and that I'd have dinner for him when he got home," continued Shirou, and his smile edged back into warmth. "That made Kiritsugu laugh. I'd tried to make my first stirfry the evening before, and… well, let's just say we had brand new pans."
"Catastrophic failure, hmm?" Rin gave a playful shrug."Well, I suppose even Master Chef Emiya had to start somewhere."
Shirou shot her a look. "Eight years old, remember?"
"Sure, sure," she said, pleased by the reluctant amusement she saw in the arch of his brows.
Not that she could fault him too much for some destroyed cookware — Rin's first attempt at cooking in her empty kitchen had nearly burned down the manor. The disappointment in Kirei's eyes when he brought her a new fire extinguisher still made her teeth grind in bitter rage. The man had known exactly what he was doing when he oh-so-innocently suggested a favourite meal might help jog her mother's damaged mind.
No. She unclenched her fists in favour of focusing on Shirou's steady voice as he resumed his story. Listening to him talk about a beloved father was far better than dwelling on a man that couldn't even manage the distorted image of one.
"I made him laugh. I remember thinking that." Shirou shook his head, a touch of wonder in his eyes. "Seeing his brows lift, and the lines on his face relax, even a little… it was nice. It wasn't that smile, but it was something. "
There was a distant crackling in the pines down below, followed by the hoarse caws of angry crows. When the birds had settled down again, Shirou closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.
"He never came back. You probably already guessed as much."
Rin's hands twisted in the hem of her coat. "I'm sorry," she said. Wholly inadequate, but that was the thing about grief. All the well-meaning wishes in the world didn't make breathing any easier when the tide overwhelmed you.
"I had a dream, you know," said Shirou, his voice a whisper on the wind. "A sheathe, gold and blue. Heavy with light. It was so beautiful that it made my heart burn."
Absently his hand strayed to his chest and rested there.
"I went through Kiritsugu's suitcase while he was taking his shower. Just to make sure he didn't forget anything. The old man never forgot a date, but he was really bad about socks and toothpaste and things like that."
"The little necessities," murmured Rin.
"Yeah. The stuff that Fuji-nee says makes people human."
Another riot of irate cries and beating wings erupted below, but Shirou didn't seem to notice. A look of awe spread on his face as his eyes fluttered open.
"That's when I saw it," he breathed. "The sheathe from my dreams, wrapped up in cloth and tucked under his jacket. I guess Kiritsugu wanted to make sure he wouldn't forget it, but I don't know how you ever could." His fingers curled and twitched. "It was beautiful and sad, like a requiem, but holding it… it felt right."
Shirou looked at her pleadingly.
"I know it sounds stupid, but… as soon as my hand closed on it, I felt less empty. Like liquid light was being poured into me, into a hollow part I didn't even know about."
A shuddering sigh shook his entire frame.
"I wanted to keep it so badly. I've never wanted anything so much, before or after. But even then, I knew."
"Knew what?" asked Rin quietly.
"This sheathe belongs to a true hero." His words jittered and trembled, but he forced them out anyway. "A hero who saves everyone. This sheathe isn't for me."
"That doesn't—"
Shirou cut her off. "And the old man needed it. That made it better, actually. It felt like a part of me was going with him."
Rin's mouth twisted in protest. "You just said you didn't think the sheathe was for you."
"I know," he said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. "It doesn't make sense, does it? But that's how it felt, all the same. Like a part of me was tied to that sheathe, somehow. And that part went with Kiritsugu on his journey."
Then all the energy seemed to drain out of Shirou at once, his shoulders hunching.
"But Kiritsugu never came back," he muttered. " So I guess if I did go with him, I wasn't able to save him."
His smile was white foam over a sea of sorrow, so fragile that Rin thought she might fall through it and drown too. She tried to think of various platitudes, of all the things that one was supposed to say in a situation like this. About how she was sure Kiritsugu would have been happy to know his son was thinking about him, how it must have been a comfort no matter what happened.
Instead Rin sighed and took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his larger, rougher ones. "You were a child."
"Maybe," said Shirou after a moment, though his voice shattered like glass on concrete. "I tell myself I'll do better now. My clients, my friends… but it never feels like enough."
"No," she said, some of the bitter taste in her mouth seeping into her words. "It never does."
Uncomfortably she watched him curl in deeper on himself. The hollow look in his eyes was all too familiar. She had seen it in the mirror on her worst nights, when even brandy wasn't enough to soothe her back to sleep.
RIn could handle that emptiness when it haunted her own face, with the same grit she handled everything else in her life. But seeing it on Shirou's was intolerable.
So she leaned towards him and flicked his forehead.
"Ow!" His gaze was first reproachful, then confused as he took in the confident tilt of her chin.
"Fine! If you won't forgive yourself, I'll do it for you," she said, pointing a finger imperiously between his eyes. "Emiya Shirou, I hereby absolve you of your sins."
He gaped at her for a moment. "That's not—"
" —how it works. I know," she said, giving him a sad smile. "Only you can forgive yourself, and I don't know if you ever will. You're such a stubborn guy."
"You're one to talk," he grumbled, though his eyes never left hers.
While Rin normally wouldn't let that kind of snark go unanswered, she was glad to hear it now. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand.
"But just so you know… I'm glad you stayed behind, even if you aren't." The words were heavy on her tongue, too close to an admission of weakness, but she needed them said. "Because of that, I was able to meet you."
She felt rather than saw the shudder that ran through Shirou's body, his fingers tightening around hers to the point of pain. Biting her lip, she waited until the little jerks in his breathing evened out.
"Is that so," Shirou murmured at last, the tension slowly draining from his frame.
His eyes were still clouded, but in fleeting gray instead of stormcover black. The sight let Rin finally relax, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
When Shirou's free hand scrabbled for another stone, seemingly unconsciously, Rin reached down and placed a fist sized one in his palm. She met his questioning look with a grin and a pebble of her own.
"Bet I can throw it further than you!" she said, pulling him to his feet and tugging him towards the cliff edge.
"Are you going to let go of my hand?" he asked in a dry tone, though he followed along willingly enough. "Because I can't help but notice that while we're both right handed, only yours is free."
Rin hid a smirk as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "And here I thought Emiya Shirou wouldn't give up so easily, even through a handicap… ah, what a disappointment."
"I know exactly what you're up to, demon."
"Yeah?" Blue eyes met sherry brown, flashing merrily. "Then won't you play along?"
"Haa, I guess it can't be helped." But for all the carelessness of his step, his jaw tightened in a way she recognized all too well from that day in the batting cages.
They had a few competitive rounds of rock throwing, all aimed far away from the forest trails that Shirou pointed out below, with accuracy born of long familiarity. Throughout it all, he never once let go of her hand, even when she told him she had been joking about the handicap. In the face of that sportsmanship (and certainly not the flutter of her heart), she fought back the temptation to funnel a little extra power via her circuits, even if that restraint meant his victory.
And as maddening as she found the touch of smugness in the corner of his mouth, it was absolutely worth it to see the accompanying cheerful lift of his brow. It was a good feeling, knowing she could help soothe the emotional wound he had torn open for her benefit (even if he probably thought of it as selfishly burdening her with his feelings, the impossible idiot).
It almost made her want to spill herself in turn. Even if she wasn't ready to blurt out all the dark secrets locked away in her mental vaults where she didn't have to look at them, the ones that Shirou's gentle eyes silently asked her about when she slipped up and let them show on her face—
— the jagged ambivalence she felt for her own father, the emotional poison she had drip-fed herself for years to drown out guilt and loneliness, the withering away of her magus' conviction in herself and her work—
— maybe it wouldn't hurt to let Shirou get a little bit closer. So when he told her about the wilder people he'd met during his legal misadventures, she opened up about her time in London, her successes and (very occasional) mishaps. And if she applied a veneer of deceit to cover the supernatural elements of the Clocktower and its pompous inhabitants, it was a very thin coat.
Before she had quite realized it, the sky was darkening, fingers of dusk stretching across the blue expanse.
"Look," said Shirou, pointing down towards the city. "Here's what I wanted to show you."
With the sun setting at their backs, they could easily spot pinpricks of yellow light as they came on in the buildings below. More and more of them, until Fuyuki was clad in her own scarf of glittering artificial stars, warding off the chill of the autumn night.
"Each of those lights is a person," said Shirou softly. "Kiritsugu said that when he had doubts about whether he was doing the right thing, whether his sacrifices were worth it… he'd come up here to remind himself."
"So he wanted you to do the same," she said.
The upward twitch of Shirou's lips were just visible in the darkness. "No, actually. He always made me pick out the lights from our house."
His finger pointed towards central Miyama, though Rin couldn't tell which individual light he meant.
"Said it would bring me home, even when everything went dark."
Rin forced herself to return his squeeze of the hand even as nausea cramped her stomach. Standing on this cliffside under cover of night, a silent but strong presence at her side as she looked down upon an oblivious Fuyuki… it reminded her too much of Archer, of the War.
She glanced at Shirou again, and felt her breath catch in her lungs. The furrow in his brow, the set of his jaw, even the easy grace of his stance, all held an eerie familiarity that curdled her thoughts. The threads of a connection began to spin in her mind, the pieces of a maddening puzzle clicking into place.
Then Shirou smiled, his eyes shining as he took in the city below, and she knew he wasn't thinking of enemies, but of all the people settling in for the evening, or heading out to restaurants and smoky bars and theatres. It was impossible to imagine such a gentle smile on Archer's austere face, not even at his most relaxed in her kitchens. The forming mists of connection instantly dissolved in the face of that smile. For the first time since they'd reached this cliff, Rin felt herself truly relax.
Before she could think better of it, she found herself leaning against Shirou's shoulder. Pushed away the chiding of her inner magus to entrust herself to someone, knowing he wouldn't let her fall. It should have felt wrong, should have tasted of vulnerability and weakness. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
As natural as the hands that gently cupped her face and turned her to look at him, broad palms and strong fingers on her skin. As natural as drifting closer, until they met in a kiss.
His lips were rough and a bit chapped, but he made up for it by kissing tenderly and carefully, as if she was made of spun glass. Too carefully, and Rin found herself tugging insistently on his collar. Thankfully he got the hint, deepening the kiss in a way that made her toes curl in delight and set her heart hammering.
When they pulled apart, they were both panting and a little flushed. Okay, more than a little flushed in Rin's case, and she hastily reached for her trademark smirk. A defense against the silent affection in his amber eyes as he regarded her.
"Not bad," she conceded, affecting an airy tone despite how that affection made her stomach flip in a way that was both pleasant and a little unnerving. "I give it a sev—"
She gave a little gasp when Shirou pressed his forehead against hers. Warm, it was every bit as warm against her as the kiss had been, and equally sucked the breath out of her.
"Thanks for listening, Tohsaka." His words were quiet, but lingered in the evening air. "And… for what you said after, too."
Mental gears ground to a halt, leaving Rin to stare helplessly at him as he pulled away, returning his gaze to the city below. Eventually she huffed and tugged her scarf in closer. Just to keep her hands busy, certainly not for the scent of him that still permeated the material.
"That's fine. After all, it means you owe me a favour now," said Rin, lifting her chin.
Shirou only smiled. "Of course. Anytime you want to talk, I'm here."
Not the kind of favour she meant, but it felt impossible to correct him when the amber of his eyes shone that brightly. Guilt twisted her stomach as she looked away from them.
Because the temptation to tell him everything, to spill her shadows at his feet, had returned with a vengeance. The urge was so strong it made her shiver. Yet she already knew she wouldn't, and not just for noble-sounding reasons like protecting him from the Moonlit World, but for myriad selfish ones.
Hypocrite, she reprimanded herself. Here you are demanding that Shirou open himself up to you, to know he's serious about you. All while you keep him at arms-length from the worst secrets of all.
"Hey." Shirou nudged her arm. "It's getting a bit cold up here, and there's somewhere else I want to take you."
"Oh?" drawled Rin, only too grateful to be pulled from her thoughts. "After dragging me all the way up a mountain, you're still making demands of me? How very bold of you, Shirou."
"Ahh, and here I thought Tohsaka was made of tougher stuff," he shrugged. "Well, if you're tired from just this, I'll take you home."
If his earlier smile would have been foreign on Archer's face, the infuriating smirk he wore now would have been right at home. It prickled Rin's temper even as it warmed her.
"Hmph! We'll just see about that." She stood up and brushed the dust from her skirt, then gave him a grin brimming with playful malice. "Think carefully about where we're going. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, right?"
"I'll take my chances," he said in an unimpressed tone, even as he offered her his hand.
Rin took it without a moment's hesitation, and together they started down the trails back towards the city below. And if it was embarrassing that he had remembered to bring a flashlight when she had none of her own, she could comfort herself that surely it was entirely his fault they had stayed out here so long in the first place.
It turned out that Shirou was an excellent singer.
Rin has halfway through her second glass of wine, pleasantly buzzed and giggling while the man crooned out an enka song. His controlled vibrato gave resonance to the nostalgia of a man returning to his childhood village and the girl he left behind, turning hoary sentiment into raw emotion that moved even Rin's stony heart a little.
Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking, or the soulful look on his handsome face as he ended the song with a flourish. Either way, she smiled when he put the microphone back on the table in front of them.
"You missed your calling, Shirou," she said. "Forget law. You should be up on stage in a kimono and eyepatch, belting out classics for all the old folks."
"I'll take that to mean I'm distinguished and suave."
His return smile was a little crooked, even after a single beer. But Rin had already discovered that for all his strong frame, he was a surprising lightweight when it came to alcohol.
"Sure, we'll go with that," she laughed, then shook her head wonderingly. "Suave enough to sucker me here, anyway." Her shoulders rose in an exaggerated shrug. "Here I am singing karaoke on a Wednesday night like a desperate salaryman. And the worst part is that for once, I'm actually having fun."
"Really?" Shirou looked at her quizzically. "Didn't you used to go out singing with Mitsuzuri and Makidera and the rest?"
"As little as I could get away with," Rin confessed, tapping the side of her glass. "The school idol can't afford to look too aloof, so I came a few times for the sake of image." She airily waved a hand. "Singing isn't my forte, but an idol can't be anything but perfect. Which meant I had to always be on my guard. Find excuses to avoid any song I couldn't handle."
Rin knew she was talking far too much, admitting things she would definitely regret once sober. But right now, she was enjoying herself far too much to care.
"But it's different with me," he observed with a small smile.
"Of course," she said loftily. "You're my boyfriend. You're obliged to compliment me no matter how badly I sing."
To her glee, his ears reddened a bit at her use of the term. If embarrassment didn't take anything away from the bright amber of his eyes or his glorious mouth, it did make the man more approachable.
Rin really wanted to kiss him again.
"Tch. I refuse to be held to that," he grumbled good-humouredly as he scrolled through the song selections on the tablet.
Laughing, she draped herself over his shoulder to look down at the screen with him. "But really, Shirou, you seem at home here."
"Oh, this place has been around for years. I used to bring my bind dates here."
Rin grinned. "And did they all enjoy enka?"
"Hah, no." Shirou shook his head. "They usually laughed through the first song or two, but then they insisted on singing something cooler. Western rock, or the latest Orange Range." His fingers curled absently around his beer. "Especially if we were on a double date."
"And yet here we are, on your fifth enka solo of the night," she said, playfully prodding his cheek.
"Yeah. I felt like it tonight," he said, without a trace of apology.
He glanced up at her, golden-brown eyes sparking against blue. They grinned at each other.
"Good," said Rin, reaching towards the screen. "Then let's put another one on for you."
Shirou easily intercepted her finger, punching in his own selection. "For us, you mean. Next one's a duet."
"Shirou, no!" But she was laughing even as he pulled her up and pressed a microphone on her.
Tripping over the lyrics of a song she'd never heard before should have been mortifying, even in a private room. But Shirou's quiet cheer was infectious. So much that instead of suffering through the tune for his sake, she found herself enthusiastically joining in.
It was close to midnight by the time they settled the bill and tumbled out into the cold autumn night, smiling and humming bits of music at each other despite the chill. Rin barely noticed the taxi ride back to her manor, too caught up in the pleasant bubble of his company. It almost came as a shock when he stopped in front of the gates, ready to wish her goodnight.
Her hands twisted in her coat, and in the scarf he had given her. She really didn't want to let him go.
Invite him in, then. Simple.
But it really wasn't, not for Tohsaka Rin. Other than the weekly cleaning service, nobody had set foot in her house since the night Archer died. Kirei was long gone (good riddance), Professor Waver preferred his own accommodations, and Sakura still couldn't bring herself to step inside.
For eight years the house stood empty but for Rin, and the books and tools and inscriptions with which she defined her life. Inviting someone inside felt uncomfortably like letting them inside Rin herself.
Surprised that Shirou had not yet interrupted her tortured silence, she turned to him. His brow was deeply furrowed, his chin tucked in as he gazed silently at the gates. It seemed she wasn't the only one wishing tonight might last a little longer.
That galvanized her, pushed her into accepting what she so badly wanted. A few murmured words adjusted the Bounded Field, then she was tugging him by the sleeve.
"It's freezing out here. Come on, let's head in."
Shirou stumbled a few steps under the unintentional force of her pulling, then dug in his heels at the threshold of the gates. "Are you sure, Tohsaka?"
Yes, even though Rin knew it was wrong. Because she was still hiding from him, even though things were getting serious now. She didn't have a right to his company, not when her true identity as a magus hung as an unseen but iron barrier between them.
But even if she couldn't bring herself to be honest with him, she still wanted to open her doors to him. More than anything she'd wanted in a while. And unlike Shirou, Rin embraced her greed.
"Of course I'm sure. I can't have you walking your idiot self home in this cold," she said as she yanked his arm again.
"Then please excuse me." Shirou relented with an amused chuckle that should have irritated her, but instead stoked the heat that had been building inside her all evening.
It was ridiculous, the way Rin's fingers trembled as she unlocked her front door. Even more the breath she held while Shirou took in the russet carpet and the carved arabesques of the furnishings.
"Wow," he said as he hung up his coat. "Alright, yeah. A place like this definitely has a guest bedroom."
Rin groaned and massaged her temples. "Seriously, Shirou. Read a mood—"
Then she noticed the smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, you jerk!" She hit his arm, failing to suppress a smile of her own. "I'm going to make you pay for that tonight."
"As the lady wishes," he said, hazel eyes glinting before he pulled her in for a kiss. Rin was more than happy to reciprocate, moving her mouth hungrily against his, locked in his embrace as they stumbled into the hallway.
(The Tohsaka manor had several guest bedrooms, actually. But none of them were used that night).