Tabula Rasa

by Junky

In a single outlying universe, Shirou's fate takes an unexpected turn when while running to escape from the inferno that erupted around him, he is drenched in black mud falling from a slowly disappearing hole in the sky.

2. Connections

Tabula Rasa

Chapter II

Connections

•••••

DISCLAIMER Fate/stay night and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Nasu Kinoko and Type-Moon. This is FANFICTION.

SUMMARY In a single outlying universe, Shirou's fate takes an unexpected turn when while running to escape from the inferno that erupted around him, he is drenched in black mud falling from a slowly disappearing hole in the sky.

•••••

July 1998

Shirou stared at the Origin Bullet in his hands. He was standing in his workshop, which was essentially a small storeroom located to the rear of the church where visitors did not have access. There were a variety of objects—mostly weapons—scattered about the place such as knives, swords, spears, bows, handguns, shotguns, assault rifles and submachine guns.

"Trace On," he intoned as he flooded Emiya Kiritsugu's Mystic Code with prana.

The structure and design of the cartridge immediately and perspicuously appeared in his mind's eye. According to Tohsaka, this was the furthest one could reach with Structural Grasping magecraft, and only if one was really talented at it. However, Shirou knew that he was not an ordinary human. Even Gilgamesh had stated that he was "an existence infinitely closer to the original than the modern trash that populates the planet." His physical potential was far greater than any human in this period could reach and he had realized the day that he had first activated his Magic Circuits that he was definitely not an ordinary magus either.

His Magic Circuits were not extraordinary by any means. He had twenty-seven Magic Circuits, which was above average in quantity, but each circuit could barely handle ten units of prana. No, what was extraordinary was that when Shirou switched off his Magic Circuits for the first time, to anyone else, they did not exist. An invisible barrier had been activated around them, preventing detection of their activity. Not only did this allow Shirou to perform magecraft undetected and masquerade as an ordinary human, it also blocked any spiritual interference that targeted his Magic Circuits, such as Mental Manipulation, Command and Geis. The barrier itself leeched on an insignificant amount of Shirou's prana involuntarily at all times and could not be manually deactivated.

Neither Tohsaka nor Kirei knew about it, as Shirou did not want to divulge the reason that he possessed such a trait, though he strongly suspected that Gilgamesh already knew. It was undoubtedly the effect of Avalon's concepts being engraved on his soul on the day that he had been reborn. His Magic Circuits had been isolated in a realm that only he could reach; they had not actually been disconnected from his soul but blocked off on the spiritual plane. Also, much like a Thaumaturgical Crest, Avalon's irreversible influence also allowed him to regenerate from injuries simply by flowing his prana to the affected region of his body, although this was much inferior to the automated healing provided by the actual scabbard and had to be used with caution because of the prana requirement.

Additionally, Shirou's Structural Grasping magecraft was different from the conventional version. When Shirou passed his prana through an object, he not only received a three-dimensional blueprint detailing its inner workings but also its entire history. He could see the concept of its creation, its basic structure, its composition material, the skill with which it was made, the experience of its growth, its accumulated years, and every single manufacturing process. He immediately knew these particularities of the object, although they did not remain in his mind past the duration of his magecraft.

Unfortunately, Shirou's Structural Grasping magecraft specifically targeted and prioritized the weaknesses of anything he used it on. And Shirou could not abide it. In those brief moments of Structural Grasping, Shirou understood more about the object than its creator or user, and he simply could not tolerate its numerous flaws. Just as he could not tolerate the heroes who failed to save the people they swore to protect. He could neither accept them nor forgive them. He would not permit them to exist. He, who had bathed in the unfiltered sins of mankind before being purified and sublimated by the divine breath of the planet, would be a hero who saved everyone and sacrificed no one.

Emiya Kiritsugu was his inspiration, and indeed, he was a hero. However, he was heavily flawed. In the end, he would have failed to save Shirou if not for Gilgamesh's accidental assistance, and he had needlessly sacrificed his own life to do so. Shirou once believed that it would be good enough if he could sacrifice his life to protect someone else's. However, that was not right. A perfect hero should save everyone except the villain. To the villain, he would administer justice. That was the hero's prerogative. And Shirou would be a perfect hero. That was his ideal, and that was what he would achieve.

The same went for the objects he examined with Structural Grasping magecraft. If they were flawed, he would improve them. He would purify and sublimate them, just as he had been in the tsunami of ambrosia what seemed like ages ago.

During the moments that he was absorbing the details of Kiritsugu's Mystic Code, Shirou proceeded to make modifications to its history in his mind. His prana flowed continuously—he had limited time to make adjustments to his hypothesis, as the image of the .30-06 Springfield round would quickly flow out of his mind when he deactivated his magecraft. He was not altering the object itself but eliminating every flaw in its history within his mind.

In this process, Shirou was not adding new abilities to the Origin Bullet but fundamentally changing its existence by reinforcing its every moment and appending any possible opportunity it possessed that could have made it stronger during its lifespan. For example, its creator once played with the thought of including runes that increased its accuracy, speed and power but had neglected to do so as it would be too expensive a feature—those runes had now been appended to the bullet.

Even as Shirou mentally recreated the Origin Bullet following through its history modifying it to correct any flaws, he knew that the real work was not being done in the material world but in the world he had seen within his soul. He could not see them, but he knew that giant gears grinded against each other as he took the steps to create his ideal version of the cartridge in his hands.

That was what Shirou imagined as its full potential, and as long as he perceived it to be possible, it was so. It was Shirou's imagination that gave birth to the new Origin Bullet. Its every component had been reinforced to the greatest possible level, vastly improving its performance with a stronger propellant, zero recoil and increased speed of operation. Compounded with its new features from the runes that had not been included previously, Shirou had created his ideal version of the Origin Bullet. Unlike that of the original version, the blueprint of the ideal remained in Shirou's mind—or more accurately, in his inner world.

Shirou fell back onto a bench behind him, mentally and physically exhausted. The number of details he had to peruse in that short period was too many to count and just about all his physical energy, life force, or od had been converted into prana. However, he could not rest yet. He had tested this method several times with non-magical objects and weapons that presently occupied much of the space in his workshop but never with a magical weapon. The less complex and newer the object he was sublimating, the shorter the time he took to create it in his mind. The shorter the time he took to create it, the lower the prana cost.

Hence, the older and more complex the object Shirou was sublimating, the more difficult and exhausting the process was. Due to the inferior quality of his Magic Circuits, Shirou could not use the skill on anything with significant history such as the more famous or powerful Noble Phantasms in Gilgamesh's vault. Even the Origin Bullet had been taxing on his prana reserves. It was, after all, a Conceptual Weapon that that rewrote natural laws to enforce the concept of Severing and Binding on its target. He had severely underestimated it, having only heard from Kirei that it could destroy Command Spells.

Shirou took a deep breath and sat up. He ordinarily did not do this at night, especially after an exhausting day. It was the last day of school, he had Bajiquan practice and training at the kendo dojo, but he had wanted to test his limits when he was tired. His goal, when he got down to it, was not limited to Kiritsugu's Mystic Code but the endless resource of weapons that existed just a room away. He could not hope to achieve that goal if he was unable to do this. Or so he had thought—the Origin Bullet had been much more than it seemed.

"Trace On," he said, focusing this time on the seven steps of creation involved in his version of Gradation Air or Projection magecraft, which he called Tracing. A replica of the cartridge appeared in his hand. Or at least, it looked like a replica. Its true nature was that of the idealized version stored within Shirou's inner world. Shirou could trace anything from his inner world at a low fixed cost, regardless of what it was. Shirou stared at the Origin Bullet for a moment before sighing. Despite all the work he had done on it, he had forgotten that this particular round was not one that he could easily test.

Deciding that it would be more suitable to experiment of a different magical item that he could actually test the next day—summer vacations were beginning after all—Shirou dissolved the traced Origin Bullet II and locked the door of his workshop. It was time he went to bed.

•••••

Seeing that nobody was in the kitchen, Shirou decided to prepare lunch. He had been forced to learn how to cook ever since he came to live with Kirei and Gilgamesh. It was not because Kirei could not cook—in fact, he was a fantastic cook that even Gilgamesh could praise. However, he could not restrain himself when it came to spice content. While Shirou could eat some of his milder dishes, just looking at some of the others could turn him away. They were aesthetically pleasing, certainly, but Shirou could almost feel the physical sensation of heat blazing through him with only slightly prolonged observation. Kirei's cooking was to the tongue what staring into the sun was to the eyes.

Shirou's own cooking had also been raised to a high grade—both due to his own determination and Gilgamesh's abuse when a meal was not up to the Golden King's quality threshold. Slowly Shirou had come to enjoy cooking and now took great pride in his home-cooked meals. He regularly prepared bentos for Gilgamesh and had secured kendo training by bribing his instructor with the same. Now that summer had started and he had daily kendo lessons, he was going to turn the leftovers from lunch into another bento.

Shirou ate silently, wondering where Gilgamesh and Kirei were. After spending a little over three years with them, he had become more tolerant of their behavior. Kirei was… someone who drove Shirou crazy with everything he said or did. Gilgamesh, despite his arrogance and abusive attitude, simply swept Shirou up in his pace, making Shirou enjoy his presence without even realizing it. Still, Shirou loathed Gilgamesh for daring to call himself a Heroic Spirit when nothing about him remotely resembled a hero. If Shirou wanted to become the perfect hero, he had to surpass Gilgamesh. That thought drove him onward and led to the development of his Tracing magecraft. Unfortunately, while Gilgamesh left plenty of his belongings around the church, none of them were weapons, which were what Shirou really wanted to get his hands on.

Footsteps echoed outside the kitchen. They were too light to be Kirei's and too fast to be Gilgamesh's. Shirou stood up and walked to the doorway, hoping that it was just a curious churchgoer. Few people attended on Saturday as church service was the next day but there were exceptions.

The footsteps halted. Shirou leaned forward, attempting to peek into the corridor.

"SHIIIIROUUU!"

"Gah!"

A mass of weight pushed Shirou to the ground, crashing his back against the stone floor. Instinctively, Shirou channeled prana through his body, activating his healing factor. He looked up only to see the brown hair and eyes of his kendo instructor, Fujimura Taiga. She had a wide smile on her face and obviously did not care that she had slammed him onto the ground.

"It can't be—Fuji-nee!"

"I came to pick you up for kendo practice, Shirou-chan!"

"There's no need for you to do that! Haven't I told you not to come to the church for stupid reasons?"

"But Shirou-chan lives in the church! How else will I meet him?"

"Wait for me to come outside like a normal person! Do you just walk into people's houses without warning? On top of that, you're not even a Christian, and this is a place of worship!"

"Huh. Then you're a Christian, Shirou-chan? And I never knew that you needed to be a Christian to enter the church."

"Well…"

"AAH! You're trying to fool me! You can't fool your elders, Shirou-chan! And I'm a teacher, you know? I can easily see through children's lies! You're just embarrassed that I came to pick you up! You don't want your guardians to know a beautiful woman is teaching you! That's the real reason, right?"

No, that was not the reason at all. For that matter, Shirou did not even see the violent Fuji-nee, who beat him up constantly in her attempts to "teach" him, as a woman. No, before that, he was only ten-years-old! He really did not need to rehash the traumatic memories of Kirei educating him about the particulars of sexual attraction and reproduction. Kirei had even brought videos as source material—sometimes Shirou wondered what the man was doing as a Father.

Speaking of which, Fuji-nee was still straddling him on the floor and Gilgamesh and Kirei had undoubtedly heard the commotion the two had caused. They needed to leave. Quickly. Shirou had no desire to introduce any of the church's other occupants, and the thought of Gilgamesh's eyes on Fuji-nee made him rage violently from the inside. She was pure and innocent unlike him, despite being double his age.

Shirou slowly dragged himself to his feet supporting a reluctant Fuji-nee. She was as clingy as ever.

"Fuji-nee, if you don't let go of me, I won't make your bento."

"NO! How could you even say such a thing! Shirouuuuu," Fuji-nee trailed off into sobs.

Ignoring her, Shirou hastily put together a lunch box and threw his own used dishes in the sink. He would wash them later when he got back. He turned; only to stumble backwards as Fuji-nee was right in his face.

"Bento…" she said pleadingly in a small voice. Her eyes were big and watery and Shirou couldn't help but cave to her request.

"Here, take it. But I'll only allow you to eat it when we reach your dojo."

Fuji-nee's expression cleared so fast that Shirou briefly considered that she knew some persuasive illusion magecraft. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room.

"Then what are we waiting for!" she shouted.

They managed to make it to the main hall without encountering anyone. Shirou wondered why he became so loud in the presence of Fuji-nee. This was not an isolated incident, although it was the first time Fuji-nee had actually come to the church. He often got caught up in her enthusiasm and excitement and started shouting back. Hopefully that habit would minimize as he got more used to Fuji-nee.

"Leaving for your training, Shirou?" Kirei said, suddenly appearing from one of the rooms on the side of the church.

"Umm… yes," Shirou said uncomfortably. He wondered whether he should introduce Fuji-nee but he really did not feel like doing so.

"So this is your trainer, Shirou? You did not tell me you found her attractive—I see, this must be why you are always so enthusiastic about going for training."

"Oh, I was right, Shirou-chan! Even your father thinks the same way. Don't worry, your Fuji-nee will take good care of you!"

Wrong, completely wrong. Why could Fuji-nee not see that Kirei was plainly baiting Shirou using her? He could not even deny it now because she would not believe him. Shirou could not understand how Kirei so skillfully managed to get under his skin.

Wait.

"He's not my father!" Shirou said vehemently.

"Oh my," Kirei said, a frown on his face. "It hurts me when you say such things, Shirou. I did not raise you to be like this."

"Shirou! How could you be so rude to your father! Apologize!" Fuji-nee demanded, before kicking the back of Shirou's knees and pushing his head to the ground in a forced bow.

"…"

"I'm sorry, Shirou-otousan, but do not worry. I, Fujimura Taiga, Shirou's most awesome teacher, will definitely teach him proper manners!"

His face crushed to the ground, Shirou could only imagine Fuji-nee pumping her arm to show her enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Fujimura-san. Please do whatever you want with Shirou," Kirei said, and Shirou could almost hear the glee in his voice.

"Fuji-nee…" he sighed, pushing her hand off him and getting to his feet. Turning to Kirei, he scowled and said, "I'll see you later."

Shirou then grabbed the bento from Fuji-nee's hands and rushed outside, knowing that she would follow him in a hurry. It seemed that the summer vacation had gotten off to a bad start.

"Shirou-chan, give me my bento! I won't let you have it!"

Fuji-nee pulled the bento away from him.

"Fuji-nee, please don't come to the church again unless it's really urgent."

She made a sound of discontent. "Why, Shirou-chan? Do you really not like being around me?"

"That's not it at all. I wouldn't come to your kendo lessons or make you bentos if that were so."

Fuji-nee considered what Shirou said and nodded her head frantically. "That's right, Shirou-chan loves his Fuji-nee!"

"So you won't come to see me at the church again?"

"I definitely will!"

"Are you listening to what I'm saying at all?" Shirou almost shouted.

Fuji-nee ignored him, seemingly in a world of her own. She hummed a tune while nuzzling the bento and Shirou shuddered.

Did all heroes have to deal with this kind of thing in their youth?

•••••

"Kotomine," Gilgamesh said, appearing beside Kirei as Kirei watched Shirou leave with his kendo teacher.

"Yes, do you need something, Gilgamesh?" Kirei said in response.

Kirei wondered why Gilgamesh had come before him at this time, risking detection by Shirou's teacher. If he was honest with himself, the last three years since the Holy Grail War had been the best of his life. Now that he understood what it meant to live and how he should live, life was a never-ending rollercoaster of pleasure and entertainment. He was still faithful to God though he knew he would never gain salvation continuing on this path. He could not be saved but he could not feel guilty about his sins either, considering that he was only traveling on this path as all other paths had been closed to him. If God viewed all men as equals, then he deserved to have happiness as much as anyone else.

So Kirei was extremely thankful to Gilgamesh, the one who revealed the truth to him. Still, he had not expected Gilgamesh to be so quiet all these three years. He had done nothing inappropriate other than his abuse of Shirou, at least nothing that Kirei had heard of. Kirei honestly had not expected that, though it made no difference to him as long as it provided entertainment. Nevertheless, he had his plans in place for the ultimate pleasure. He had little hope that Gilgamesh would not ruin everything in an uncontrolled rampage but surprisingly everything was proceeding satisfactorily at the moment.

"I will be leaving for some time," the King of Heroes said.

There it was. A sentence he did not want to hear. Had Gilgamesh known what he was thinking? What did the Gilgamesh intend to do? Kirei watched as Gilgamesh poured something into a small goblet.

"Why?" Kirei asked.

"Do not fear, Kotomine," Gilgamesh said as he idly swished the contents of the golden goblet in his hand. "I will grant you permission to summon me using the Command Spell, although you will have to think of more creative words this time. I had initially planned to do this soon after the Holy Grail War to conserve my prana consumption but I found something that caught my interest. Unfortunately it does not seem receptive to me, and is not yet, or may not ever be, worthy of being among my treasures. I trust that you will take care of him."

Kirei wondered what Gilgamesh's cryptic words meant. Obviously the interesting thing he had found was Shirou. However, what did he mean when he said that Kirei would have to "think of more creative words" when summoning him with the Command Spell?

"I do not understand," Kirei said plainly.

"It seems you worry that I might disrupt your plans. You are wrong, Kotomine. I definitely want to see your plans come to fruition." Gilgamesh tipped the goblet, emptying its contents down his gullet. "I will give you one warning, however: do not underestimate me no matter how I look."

Even as Gilgamesh spoke those words, his form blurred and gold light scattered from it. Kirei turned away to shield himself from the blinding light. When he turned back, he wondered if he was still sleeping.

"Is this what people call a dream?" Kirei asked to no one in particular.

Standing in front of him was a short blond boy with the same red eyes as Gilgamesh. He looked to be about Shirou's age but from his presence, Kirei could tell that it was none other than Gilgamesh himself. The only thing distinguishing them was the childish appearance—and that innocent-looking smile that almost made Kirei believe the boy was someone else.

"It's not a dream, Kotomine-san!" the child version of Gilgamesh said. "You can call me Gil if you want to differentiate me from my adult self. And when he was talking about using different words, he meant that you should ask me to release this form. I can forcefully overcome the Potion of Youth and the Command Spell won't be required unless I don't want to let go of this form. So ask first, please?"

If Kirei had not been in complete control over his emotions, he would definitely have been staring openmouthed at Gil's well-mannered and polite behavior. Had the King of Heroes truly been this kind of person in his youth? It was implausible and frankly unbelievable.

"I presume that you have been reverted to your child self? Why is your personality so different if you retain all Gilgamesh's memories?" Kirei asked bluntly.

"I don't understand how I became that sort of person," Gil said, putting a finger to his lip. "As for my personality, I'm myself, you know? I have his memories but it's more like knowing things without understanding the reason why you know them."

"… I see," Kirei said. Only, he did not see. It was rare that something threw him of balance but he had honestly considered the King of Heroes to be a fixed presence. However, he could not deny that this was an interesting development. It gave him hope for humanity. If such a personality could grow into that Gilgamesh, then perhaps the world could become a better place. Or a more entertaining place, at least.

"Kotomine-san?" Gil said questioningly.

"I apologize. I was thinking of the future of humanity and felt for a moment that it was very bright indeed."

"Is that so? I too think that mankind's future is very bright! I only wish there were more people like Shirou-san who wished to help people! Maybe I should become a hero of justice too?"

Gil tilted his head and put his hand to his cheek in a thinking pose. Kirei wondered if he was seeing something that should not be seen. Was this the mysterious phenomenon that young Japanese adolescents were calling moe? If so, Kirei could certainly understand the attraction. Indeed, the attraction to crush Gil's face into a bloody pulp was rising within him. No, that was not what the trope was about, was it? Oh well, he could not do anything anyway.

"Shirou might become jealous if you infringe on his territory," Kirei said.

"Oh, you're right!" Gil replied. "I'll help him achieve his goal then!"

Kirei wondered what the boy was talking about but then remembered the last words Gilgamesh had spoken to him. Very well, he would not underestimate this preteen version of his Servant.

"You do that. In fact, why don't you go over to see Shirou now? I'm sure he'd be delighted. Perhaps you can even practice the sword with him. You do know how to handle one?"

"Of course!" Gil said, before surprising Kirei by opening the Gate of Babylon to remove a reddish-pink wooden pole.

"A wooden pole?" Kirei asked, trying not to sound incredulous.

"This… it's called a waster in these times, isn't it? It can change its shape into any weapon but since it was designed for practice, it never gains a sharp edge."

As he spoke, the wooden pole morphed into an elegant long sword with a V-shaped crossguard.

"I hope you will take care not to show that transformative ability in front of ordinary humans."

"I won't, don't worry, Kotomine-san." He stared at the waster for a moment. "I can't really go the dojo, can I?"

"It would be best if you did not, that is correct. You have no identification or origin in this world after all. While I can prepare false documentation for you, it would mean that you have to go to school and live somewhere else, as it would be too suspicious if I housed two orphans at the church that came out of nowhere. Additionally, I would have to tell Rin about you and she would know something was wrong the moment the two of you met."

"Hmm…" Gil made a sound of dissatisfaction. "Guess I'll have to wait for Shirou-san to come back then… ah!"

"What is it?" Kirei asked, asking himself if Gil could have found away to evade his imprisonment. Kirei had already formulated more than a few ways that it could be done but he did not particularly want to give any form of Gilgamesh more freedom.

"I'll go in spirit form!"

Yes, that was one way. It was also impossible because Gilgamesh had been submerged in the black mud from the corrupted Grail and attained a physical body. It seemed that the child form of Gilgamesh was a little slow-witted.

"I am afraid that would be impossible now that you have gained a physical form," Kirei said.

"Oh, you're right… well, I'll become invisible then."

"Invisible?"

"I have many items that can turn my form invisible…" Gil paused as if he were choosing the item in his head. "Ah!"

He thrust his arm into the Gate of Babylon, penetrating the space around him and making it ripple irregularly. A thin gold bracelet inlaid with red gems was wrapped around his wrist as he drew his arm out.

"This one is thought activated and it uses the surrounding mana so it will not affect my reserves," he said cheerfully.

Kirei sighed, wondering why he did not think of the Gate of Babylon. It seemed to be the universal solution after all.

"Remember not to let anyone but Shirou hear you when you greet him," Kirei said, imagining Shirou's reaction when an invisible person whom he could not recognize greeted him. There was no way that he would believe this child was Gilgamesh if he could not see him. Kirei hoped that a lot of people were around him at the time.

It was truly entertainment at its best.

•••••

"Kirei! A spirit or ghost or something knows about Gilgamesh! I heard its voice during my kendo practice and got scared out of my wits. Fuji-nee thought I was sick and asked me to go home. What should we do? Can you exorcise it? You're an Executor, aren't you?"

Kirei listened to Shirou's rapid-fire speech with amusement.

"I am afraid you are wrong, Shirou," he said. "That voice you heard was indeed Gilgamesh."

"That's impossible because Gilgamesh cannot take spirit form. The voice was too young and didn't sound anything like Gilgamesh. And Gilgamesh would never greet me or even speak to me that politely."

"Is that so?" Kirei asked, before spotting something that heightened his mirth. "Please go on, Shirou. Tell me exactly how different this 'spirit' or 'ghost' was from Gilgamesh. Apparently he was not rude like Gilgamesh and even greeted you, is that really so?"

Shirou nodded swiftly and continued. "Obviously that ghost has no idea how horrible Gilgamesh's personality really is. I can't imagine Gilgamesh coming to the dojo—he believes such things to be unworthy of him after all. If he did come to meet me, there is no way that he would have talked to me in spirit form even if he could take it. He would have definitely have barged into the place liked he owned it and destroyed anyone and anything that stopped him from getting to me. It's Gilgamesh after all—the most arrogant, tactless, ill-mannered, presumptuous, abusive and disparaging person ever to be born since the creation of the world."

"And so he says," Kirei said, nodding to the boy standing in the doorway.

Gil had been there since the beginning of Shirou's first complaint and Kirei could not believe how easily Shirou had fallen into his trap when he encouraged him to compare Gil with Gilgamesh. He should have known better—if the elder Gilgamesh had been behind him instead of his child form, Shirou would most certainly have been grievously maimed, and that too only because Gilgamesh did not want to kill him.

Gil's reaction to Shirou's words was extremely entertaining in itself. With every sentence Shirou spoke, Gil became more dejected and stooped, as if he were being hammered with a giant mallet with each sentence being a blow. The last sentence looked like it had crippled him and judging by his depressed countenance, he was obviously neither used to people referring to him in such a fashion nor happy with the rather accurate description of the person he was going to become.

Shirou had turned around on Kirei's words to Gil and was staring at the now materialized blond in shock and amazement. To Kirei's surprise and delight, Shirou had walked over to Gil and was poking him in curiosity.

"You're the ghost? How come you have a physical form? And you do know that Gilgamesh is an adult right? Though you do seem to have got his features right… I wonder if this is what he looked like when he was a child? No, there is no way Gilgamesh looked so innocent and nice as you do. He was obviously born dressed in gold with an evil smirk on his face as he tormented the doctors and threatened to kill them."

Shirou nodded to his own words and Gil seemed to be confused as to whether he should take Shirou's separation of his two forms as praise toward him or not.

"I… I am Gilgamesh… my adult self drank the Potion of Youth and reverted to me, who was I when he was younger. Also, I was not dematerialized, just invisible."

Shirou just looked at Gil in bewilderment. "That sounds really confusing and I don't understand it at all, but you simply cannot be Gilgamesh. I already said that Gilgamesh is—"

"That is Gilgamesh," Kirei interrupted. "I saw him drink the Potion of Youth myself. He will be apparently staying with us for the conceivable future. His energy consumption is lower so he does not have to stay dematerialized to conserve mana. Additionally, he will not cause trouble when he is bored, which was the primary reason Gilgamesh decided to drink the potion."

Shirou just stared at Kirei before turning to Gil with openmouthed surprise. "You're really Gilgamesh?"

"Please call me Gil, Shirou-san," Gil said.

"Umm… please call me Shirou. I'll be in your care," Shirou said, before realizing how all the statements he made before could be construed. He immediately bowed in seiza position with his head touching the floor. "And I'm really sorry about everything I said earlier! I didn't mean anything by it! Gilgamesh was the greatest king ever and his personality is so amazing that it made me jealous! That's why I spoke that way—it was a joke, a joke I say! Ahahahaha…"

Shirou's laughter trailed off into silence. He looked up at Gil nervously, obviously expecting a barrage from the Gate of Babylon. Not that it came, of course. Gil was nothing like Gilgamesh. Kirei wondered if he should have asked Gilgamesh the true story of his past since all his knowledge of the King of Heroes came from the few remnants of his epic that had survived until this age. There must have been something that turned this boy into that man, and Kirei wanted to know how it had happened.

"Please stand up, Shirou," Gil said, his lips drawn into a wide smile that Gilgamesh would never, never use. "As much as it hurts me to admit it, I became a bad person when I grew older. I can't do anything to prevent it, so there's no point of agonizing over it either. However… the 'me' here now will definitely help you in your goal to become a hero of justice! With me by your side, there is absolutely no way you will not succeed."

"…"

Shirou was in such awe that he could not speak a word in reply. Kirei could understand his feelings. Even barely a decade old, Gilgamesh was clearly a man born to become the greatest king. His words exuded charisma like a succubus exuded sex appeal. His charisma was tantamount to a curse that affected anyone in his presence; it made anything he said sound like an unquestionable truth. He simply could not be denied. Shirou had been able to resist the elder Gilgamesh because their personalities and ideals clashed too strongly, but he actually wanted to hear someone speak the words Gil just spoke. He had been defenseless—it would be an almost insurmountable task to bring him out from under Gil's spell now.

"I… thank you," Shirou said, finally realizing that he was still in seated in seiza in a half bow looking up at Gil. He stood up and fiddled with his hands, obviously at a loss. Basking in Gil's air of unmitigated confidence, Shirou regained his own. "Needless to say, I will become a hero of justice! I will surpass your future self and make him realize what a mistake he made to have changed so much!"

Gil smiled brightly.

"I would certainly like to get my revenge for everyone's wrong impression of me," he said. "You can count on me, Shirou!"

As Kirei watched the two children interact, he wondered just what kind of partnership this was. A heroic spirit who wished for payback against his future self. An ordinary boy who aspired to be a hero of justice. Was it a match made in heaven? Or would their hypocritical desires lead them to hell? Either way, it would be entertaining to see. Not that he believed that Shirou could ever come close to Gilgamesh in power—at the end of the day, it was impossible for the earth to touch the sky.

•••••

Nine-year-old Matou Sakura watched as a red haired boy enthusiastically haggled over the vegetables on sale. They were already at a reduced price yet the boy would not take no for an answer, arguing vehemently with the grocer. Sakura wondered what made him so determined—was he very poor? His clothes did not seem to indicate that was the case. Perhaps he was saving up for something? For that matter, why was someone about her age buying vegetables at the market anyway? She was only here because her grandfather did not cook and she doubted that he even needed to eat, her father had lost his hand during the Holy Grail War and had given her the role of cook in the house, and her brother did not know how to cook or care to learn.

The redhead boy tapped her on the shoulder, rudely bringing her out from her silent musings.

"Hey, hey. You want to buy something right?" he asked. "You seem tired, do you have a list or something?"

"Eh?"

Sakura felt annoyed by her own ineloquence but she simply could not understand what was happening. The boy once again violated her personal space, grasping her hand and pulling the list from it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into a chair meant for the store assistant. "Just wait here. I'll get you your things. And at a super-good price too!"

Sakura watched listlessly as the redhead turned back to the grocer with her shopping list in his hand. What had just happened? Had she been thinking so hard that someone thought she was unwell? This had never happened before. Most people just ignored her or became impatient and rude. She looked toward the boy again, this time observing his face more closely. He had light honey-colored eyes that contrasted beautifully with his scarlet hair and his determined and enthusiastic expressions filled her with amazement.

Sakura would be the first to admit that she hated her family, except perhaps Shinji, whom she only felt pity for. None of them expressed any positive emotions and her life had become a living hell ever since she was adopted four years ago at the age of five. And even outside her home, she was alone. No one wanted to befriend the gloomy depressed-looking girl and strangers certainly did not help her out of nowhere. So why was she in this situation? Who was that boy and why was he so intent on helping a stranger?

"I got them," the redhead said, suddenly appearing in front of her again. He held several bags in his hands.

"The-the bill?" Sakura asked.

"Hmm…" the boy searched through the bags, finally pulling a paper out of one. "Here you go."

Sakura read the bill, a little surprised at the low sum. The boy had managed to achieve a bargain on goods on sale!

"Hey, why don't you let me carry your bags home for you. You don't look like you're up to it today. It's too bad that you're unwell at the start of the summer vacation though."

"I'm not…" Sakura whispered.

"Huh?" The boy looked confused. He had not heard her.

"I'm not unwell!" she said loudly.

The redhead laughed. "I'm sure you're not. But it doesn't matter. I'm going to help you whether you like it or not. After all, that's what a hero would do!"

"A hero?" Sakura asked skeptically.

"Yes, me! I'm a hero of justice! And today, I will be yours. So tell me where to go."

Sakura stared at the redhead, wondering if he was real. Here was a boy, whom she had never met before and did not know the name of, claiming to be a hero of justice. And not just that, he also said that she was hers for the day.

Sakura blushed.

For the first time in four years, Matou Sakura felt a surge of happiness in her heart. How had she forgotten this feeling? It filled her and consumed her like the crest worms never could, like a burst of sunlight within the darkness.

But wait, why was she not responding to his question? She had only spoken a few words, stuttering and jumbling up what she wanted to say. He would think she was stupid. Then he would abandon her just like her father had. Like her mother had. Like her sister had.

"Hmm… I think you're right. You're not unwell at all."

There it was! He was denying what he said earlier. He was going to leave her here despite his declaration that he would be her hero.

"You're just thinking too much instead of talking. Don't you speak to anyone? Well, it doesn't matter. From this day onward, this Emiya Shirou will speak to you so much that you will also start speaking as if it were a contagious disease!"

What? Sakura could honestly not believe what she was hearing.

"But even if I say that, I can't read minds… so please will you tell me your address at least?"

And then Sakura smiled. She could not help it. Her smile was a little awkward because she had not contorted her face in that manner for years and could not remember how to do it properly, but it was a genuine smile. It was an instinctive smile brought about by her hero for the day, Emiya Shirou.

"I'm… Matou Sakura," Sakura said. "If you want to carry the bags to my house… I'll take you."

"Wow, that's the most I've heard you say today. Your voice is really nice, Matou-san, you should definitely use it more."

Sakura blushed again. She was being complimented. And on her voice! Not about her aptitude to bear the crest worms and not about her talent at magecraft compared to the rest of the Matou family. Not by a deformed old cripple that was more monster than man but by a cute boy with a simply amazing smile.

"Your smile is cute too," Shirou said, throwing her off balance yet again. Had she spoken out loud? No, he had simply made the comment while she had been thinking. He shifted all the bags to his right side, sliding them over his arm to secure them. Then he held out his left hand to her. "The Matou house is in the upper-class western area, right? Then until we reach it, I will be at your service, ojou-sama."

"Thank you," Sakura said, taking his hand.

She wondered if the blush on her face would become permanent if it stayed too long. His hand was warm and his grip was firm but gentle. The last person who had touched her gently was Uncle Kariya but he had died in the Holy Grail War trying desperately to save her. Sakura felt a rush of desperation. Would Shirou suffer the same fate if he tried to become her hero? She did not want that, she did not want to see the kind and welcoming smile on Shirou's face fade. She did not want to be the cause of his suffering.

Sakura's hand was squeezed tightly. She looked at Shirou, who was staring down at her with a concerned expression.

"You're thinking about bad things, Matou-san," he said. "Please don't do that, especially when your hero is by your side. I promise that nothing will happen to you as long as you have me."

How could someone deliver such a cheesy line with a straight face? And why was she falling for it? Her every vulnerability was suddenly exposed and a profound relief came about her. Shirou was right. He was her hero. But he was also wrong. He had already saved her. Not by holding her bags or by escorting her home. He had shown her that it did not matter if her life was like hell. As long as people like Shirou existed, just by being with them she would be satisfied with her life. She could even be happy.

Shirou let go of her hand, and she stopped walking. He then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed the area around her eyes. Was she crying? But she was not sad. Were they tears of happiness? She had thought those only existed in fiction. She stood as still as a statue while Shirou gently wiped away her tears. He then took her left hand and wrapped her fingers around the handkerchief. It was made of silk in a light cream color, and it surprisingly had his initials monogrammed on the corners. She looked up at him curiously and he blushed, scratching his chin with a finger and looking away.

"It was a gift from someone. He can't do anything without overdoing it. And something ordinary for him is luxurious for anyone else. So I have a quite a few of them. You can keep it."

Sakura knew she should refuse it. The handkerchief was obviously expensive. It was stained with her tears but he could wash it or dry clean it. But she could not give it back. It was a personalized handkerchief with the initials of her savior. Something of his that would remind her of him. She could not possibly refuse it.

"Thank you," Sakura said, and then grabbed his left hand by herself. She almost gasped at her own boldness. Had she really proactively taken his hand? She forced herself under control, thinking that if she worried too much, her hand would start sweating. That would be extremely unattractive. "Let's go, Emiya-san."

"Call me Shirou," Shirou said easily as they continued on their way.

Sakura strangely did not find it odd that he had asked her to call him by his first name less than an hour after their first meeting. Too many odd things had happened in succession and there was truthfully nothing that Shirou could do that would surprise her anymore today.

"Then please call me Sakura, Shirou-kun," she said, daringly attaching the more affectionate "-kun" to his name rather than "-san." It was normally used only between people who were emotionally attached or had known each other for a long period of time. But she strongly suspected that Shirou would not mind it.

"Sure, Sakura-chan!" Shirou replied, immediately justifying her thoughts and even reciprocating the gesture. "Ah, we're nearing your neighborhood. You'll have to take the lead from here."

Sakura let go of Shirou's hand, not because she wanted to but because she did not want any of her family to see it. They approached the looming Matou mansion, and Sakura felt a piercing sadness when she saw it come into view. If only her house was thousands of miles away. If only she could have walked forever with Shirou's hand in hers. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and this was no different.

"Don't look so sad, Sakura-chan," Shirou said. "Didn't I tell you earlier? I will be seeing you to talk to you again and again until you start talking back to me too."

"Then if I never talk to you, you'll never stop coming to see me?" Sakura asked.

"No, that's not true at all. After that, we'll both talk to each other! We're friends, right?"

"Yes," Sakura said, her permanent blush deepening further.

"Just remember that I'm a hero of justice. Whenever you have problems, you have to tell me about them. If not, I won't be able to save you and I'll be a failure as hero."

Trying to ignore his words, Sakura asked a question. "Where do you live, Shirou-kun?"

"At the church!" Shirou said. "But… perhaps you shouldn't come there unless it's an emergency. Hmm… maybe we should fix a time and place. Do you have any club activities or hobbies during the summer?"

"No…"

"Then come to the Fujimura kendo club! You don't have to join if you don't want to but I'll be there every morning this summer."

"Alright," Sakura said, nodding happily. "Then… I'll see you tomorrow, Shirou-kun."

"Definitely!" Saying that, he pulled her into a hug that filled her with an intense sensation of warmth that blew away the shock from its suddenness. Shirou blushed and looked away as they separated. "Sorry about that… you just… looked like you needed one. A hug, that is."

Sakura smiled. "Thank you, Shirou-kun."

"Yeah, umm. Bye!"

He rushed off still blushing from his own spontaneous action. Sakura waited until his shape vanished into the distance before reigning in her emotions and adopting her usual impassive expression.

She was a magus of the Matou family after all.

•••••