Tempered steel. Flames as hot as damnation. A battlefield where countless lay deprived of their desires. At the peak stands only one individual, forever fighting to satisfy unending hunger.

Or at least… there should only be one.

"He… he's still evolving…!"

The battle rages on, the fires he had grown accustomed to continue to flare with all their might; everything was going according to plan. There were no setbacks, this is him at his finest. The tools sang just as he wanted them to, the heat was sizzling with surgical precision. The final coup de grace was already prepared and ready to finally show his excellence and superiority once and for all.

And yet…

"Heh. Can I keep up with you? No, it's can you keep up with me."

The boy, no, the young man standing opposite him spoke to him with his gaze alone. In between the dashes of powerful, spiced laced flourishes, the young man dared to confront him with the exact same recipe for victory.

It was no longer just another Saturday Brunch.

No, in this one moment, the culmination of Emiya Shirou, all that he trained and practiced for during his time in Chaldea was being challenged. He came equipped with an unbeatable arsenal, he was ready to stare down the gatekeeper of hell itself, but he was not prepared to go toe-to-toe with who awaited him at the summit; the Apex Iron Chef.

Across his cooking station was Emiya Shirou, the Emiya Shirou from Pan Human History.

At first, Emiya was surprised to meet him here, it was just another day at the beach. Vigil finally approved of his family's request for a beach day, this time at an actual, real beach. There were only allowed to make use of the beach in Hawaii due to security reasons, a reason that no one in his family thought was really a drawback since it's, well, Hawaii.

Saber was already doing what she always did at these events, hungrily staring down the still-yet-to-be-cooked food like a scavenger who hasn't eaten in days. His sisters were merrily playing in the water while the family butler lied on a reinforced beach lounger in full Hawaii fashion, sipping away a coconut that looked like a tennis ball in his hand. Emiya could tell that underneath the sunglasses that surprisingly disguises the Berserker quite well that he was on his usual vigilant watch over the Emiya family daughters.

His dad was off with his mother, probably slowly starting to regret his nonchalant agreement to go shopping for swimsuits. He didn't ask why she needed another swimsuit when she actually arrived in Hawaii wearing one underneath her usual outfit; Emiya has enough experience to not go down paths that lead to lectures.

Or maybe Kiritsugu wasn't regretting the decision at all, but Emiya quickly dismissed the notion before it got weird. Never think about what your parent can be doing on their own.

So taking the best open position he could see, Emiya had started work on the Saturday Brunch. Everything was going smoothly and he was already enjoying the mini vacation he was gifted with and was feeling grateful once again for the opportunity to live such a fulfilling life despite past experiences.

However, that thought and all else perished when he noticed Saber actually taking her eyes off his meat, er, food and his gaze followed hers.

There, a scant 5 meters away, was Emiya Shirou. The same face he sees every day, just with a different set of expressions. Hair that is still lushly orange, and skin that has not really seen any tanning at all.

Archer froze. This wasn't supposed to happen. This shouldn't have happened at all. What was Vigil doing? Did they just simply miss the list of people in Hawaii today? Was it just happenstance that Emiya Shirou just so happened to happen upon this beach? It was unlikely that this Emiya Shirou somehow purposefully choose this beach in order to find Chaldea.

In retrospect, Archer Emiya would realise that given the Pan Human History version of himself is a renowned chef, sometimes he too would want to go on a secret trip with his family so that he won't be bothered.

Emiya Shirou caught Archer's gaze, and respectfully smiled back and nodded. To him, he had thought that a stranger simply recognised him, and the gesture was meant as a way for him to say sorry and to please try to stay quiet about him being here less a mob of fans storm them.

Archer shares a look with Saber, to which she returns with uncertainty; a million thoughts are racing through their minds. Should they be here? Should they alert the others and leave? How is this Emiya Shirou's life going, is he happy? Does he make food that tastes better than what his Chaldean self can offer?

…

Does he make better food?

Archer knew he should've been more concerned about something else. He should've gotten his act together and just respectfully leave and alert the others.

He should've just avoided looking at what Emiya Shirou was cooking.

"Oh, look, _, he's using the same sauce and spices you're using!"

Archer didn't recognise the name. He didn't recognise who was beside this Emiya Shirou, standing beside him like a spouse or significant other, casually pointing towards his own spice rack and sauce tray while intimately placing a hand on Emiya Shirou's shoulder.

"...ah, that's right."

The Emiya Shirou of Pan Human History is not named Emiya Shirou. The Fuyuki fire that had happened did not claim his family like in his own timeline. He did not get involved with Tohsaka and the grail wars. He has no connection to the world that EMIYA lives in.

This is not Emiya Shirou.

However.

Those flawless moves, the ease in which he manipulate his tools, the perfect control over the fire, and the sheer mastery over spices and seasoning; it was a pitch perfect replica of Emiya Shirou.

"...no, it's not."

Visions of a past timeline flash before Archer's eyes. To a time when he was the young boy gazing up towards the peak his future self stood upon.

"It's the same."

Just like how the young Emiya Shirou was able to recognise and feel familiar with Archer EMIYA's style of fighting because it was his own, only improved upon and perfected, so too can Archer now gaze upon this not-Emiya Shirou's style of cooking and recognise it.

He was ahead of him.

In an ironic twist of fate, it was now Archer's turn to gaze at the back of Emiya Shirou, no, at the opposite end of the ideal that he had chased all those years ago. No tragic battles or heart-wrenching farewells, but a warm family full of smiles and a lover who shared their two lives as one.

This is what Emiya Shirou could have been. A happy, dorky, maybe naive young man.

But Archer could tell. In those refined strokes and brushes lied the very same conviction that he followed. Suffering and sadness is the eternal constant in human experience. While this not-Emiya Shirou is certainly a lot more happier and less unfortunate with his circumstances, that does not mean he did not experience hardship.

He claimed his happiness through hard work, with skills he had no doubt laboured hours upon hours to obtain. Archer can respect that, and can be happy that this timeline's version of himself was able to achieve the happiness he deserved.

But still.

"...I don't mind losing to anyone else. But I refuse to lose to myself!"

Those words reverberated Archer to his core. They were words that were aimed at him, or was he the one who said it? Nonetheless, it still rang true for him, even now.

Who cares if this not-Emiya Shirou was a world renowned chef? Who cares if Saber is giving him worrying looks? Who cares if this might blow his cover and Vigil might have to intervene? Emiya Shirou will never allow himself to lose against himself, not without a fight.

"Yes… that is the same sauce that I use…", the not-Shirou offhandedly replies to his significant other while studying what Archer is cooking and what sauce he is cooking with.

"Yes, that's right. This is the same sauce you use, the very same one that you personally created and is unique to you, Emiya Shirou. From the smell alone, you will think that I had stole your sauce without you knowing.", Archer's thought were spot on. He is Emiya Shirou after all.

Like two peas in a pod, the two Shirous had prepared the exact same recipe for this Saturday Brunch. It was inevitable that they would, given it was the best option for a day at the beach with your family.

Not-Shirou was about to make some small talk conversation to work his way into asking Archer where he was able to get that sauce, but stopped when the two finally made eye-contact.

Archer was ready, he knew what had to be done. The conviction and challenge in his eyes told not-Shirou all he needed to hear.

This was a battlefield. And they are soldiers on different sides using the exact same weapons. Only the one who is better skilled will come out victorious.

There was ample reason for not-Shirou to shrug this off as a mere coincidence and just return to his day. He could've just focused on his own cooking and enjoy some time off with his family.

But this is can be nothing else but fate that brought these two men here in this moment.

Not-Shirou knew that this was a challenge that he must not lose. To him, this disturbingly familiar looking stranger was an imitation, just someone who dared to mock his cooking and to smear his hard work into the dirt, to deny everything that makes him a chef by saying "look, I can use the same stuff you do but make it better."

Not-Shirou was well aware of the situation he now found himself in. After all, he himself knows that there is no rule saying that an imitation cannot surpass the original. No longer was this just Saturday Brunch, this was now a fight to defend his honour as a person and as a chef.

Archer quickly returns to his cooking, now more fervent than ever before. Saber looks to him in concern, but just like in that desolated castle where two men clashed with conflicting ideology over their identity, now too can she no longer step into this fight. She looks towards not-Shirou's partner, and a silent, mutual thought and agreement come to them both:

"I want to eat both."

And so, it began. The battle to decide who is superior, a battle of wills.

"I… I don't believe it…!"

Saber's words were echoed with his own.

After a fierce and intensive fight that lasted a mere 30 minutes but felt like an eternity, the two Shirous wordlessly handed their plate of food to each other.

It was the exact same dish, prepared and cooked in the exact same way, and even presented in the exact same way. The two already knew how their own food tasted. It was simply a matter of seeing where the other stood.

Of course, since this is still actually just a Saturday Brunch with family, there had to be enough food for both sides. Although Archer and not-Shirou both thought that their significant other could at least have the decency to not so hungrily stare at the competition's dish instead of their own.

The two sides ate at the same time, eager to see who is the better chef.

However, when Archer and Saber bit down and tasted not-Shirou's food, the victor was imminently clear.

On not-Shirou's side, once the food entered their mouths, they were utterly taken aback and stunned. They could hardly believe what they had ate and tasted; thoughts of victory faded from their minds.

"...well done, stranger. You truly are a chef worthy of utmost respect and prestige."

The words spoken caused Saber to double take and look towards Archer in concern.

"…who are you?", were not-Shirou's first words since this whole episode began. He gazed upon Archer's figure, and formed a sad frown upon meeting his eyes. For a split second, he could see himself in Archer's place.

Truly, not-Shirou's food was true to everything Archer had heard about him, and then some. The realm of culinary he had strove towards during his time in Chaldea was reached by this young man.

"You are the winner.", Archer continued with a pleased, satisfied smile.

True, not-Shirou's technique and skill were ever so slightly above Archer's due to specialised training, but any gaps in skill can be covered by Archer's own experience. No, the deciding factor was something else.

There was no denying that both their dishes tasted almost exactly the same; albeit with the ever small slice of difference that determined the winner. However, that is not why not-Shirou's face contorts with mild discomfort that's matched by his partner.

Archer cooks for Saber, for his family, for those he can now protect and cherish. To see them smile warmly at his efforts and enjoy their company has been much more than he could have ever hoped to dream of.

The Emiya Shirou of Pan Human History cooks for his family. He cooks for his clients. He cooks for the homeless stranger who he happens to come across in his travels around the world perfecting his skills. But most importantly, the defining factor that separates the two Shirous' cooking is this: He cooks for a world he is happy and grateful to live in, and for all the people he wishes to share this happiness with.

Archer is laced with cynicism that has admitted gotten much better over the course of his career at Chaldea, however this side of him translates into his cooking with a hint of the deep despair he went through. Ultimately, Archer is limited by his own worldviews and cynicism while not-Shirou is boundless with his acceptance of such cynicism and desire to turn it into hope.

Yet, this is not the reason why not-Shirou and his partner are now taking comfort in each others' arms.

"...it's the same.", not-Shirou repeats to himself. "It's the same kind of cooking that I had done in the past."

All the memories only privy to not-Shirou and his lover are called to the forefront, and the two cannot help but to feel bittersweet in reminiscence. The times of hardships that they had gone through, the struggles they overcame to get to where they are standing now; that's what Archer's cooking reminded them of.

Archer is not angry or sad. Instead, he is smiling in satisfaction and contentment. At first, Saber considered trying to comfort him, but once she sees how pleased he is with himself and at not-Shirou, she too begins to smile wholeheartedly.

"That's right, you are not Emiya Shirou. You are you. But that form, that technique; you are not Emiya Shirou but at the same time, you are Emiya Shirou. Your origin may be different, your name may be completely foreign, but your ideals in cooking are still the same.", it is not in despair or sadness that Archer greets his defeat; it is in blossomed hope. "So this is what hard earned happiness devoid of despair and cynicism tastes like."

An impossible what-if was finally answered, and Archer could not be any happier with the result. Everything he ever needed to know about this Emiya Shirou had been answered in this single plate of food, and he can now look forward without ever looking back in concern for this young man's happiness.

Archer reaches forward with his hand out and the smile still upon his face.

"I am Emiya Shirou, it is my pleasure to meet you. And you are?"

"I am…"