Chapter Nine

Weakness

This time, he dreamed of Natalia that night. And though she too appeared as a phantom to haunt Kiritsugu for killing her, she was cold and at the same time understanding in her anger. Probably she would come the closest to being a spirit willing to forgive him his sins, which somehow made sense.

"So you found a woman, did you, kid?" she asked with a bitter laugh before she took a drag on a cigarette.

"Hm." Kiritsugu couldn't manage to speak as he hugged the rocket launcher he'd used to take down Natalia's plane.

The two of them stood together on the deck of his rental boat as the debris from that plane fell into the ocean.

Kiritsugu didn't realize until now that he was shaking. This was actually more terrifying than any of the other victims he'd dreamed about. This mocking.

Finally he managed, "Natalia, I—"

"Tell me about her, this woman you love," Natalia cut across him, blowing out a stream of smoke at the ignited sky.

Kiritisugu hesitated, unable to speak again.

"Nothing?" Natalia tapped off some ash. "Then why don't you tell me all the things you said you were burning to tell me since the day I died?"

"I was…." Kiritsugu shook his head as though he were ridding his ears of water. "None of that matters. It's just my own guilt…following me wherever I go…."

"Like with that Shirley girl?"

"Yeah…."

Natalia laughed her humorless laugh again and took another drag on her cigarette. And after she exhaled another puff, she said, "You know, when I picked you up on that godforsaken island…I had my reservations about taking you in. Yet you turned out far better than I could've imagined. And dammit if I didn't get attached to you, even when I could see you were turning out colder even than me. But you already know something of this from our last conversation, right?"

Again, Kiritsugu was left with no words to say.

"All right…so this woman, does she at least have a name?" Natalia demanded.

Finally, Kiritsugu croaked, "Irisviel. Iri."

"Oh, is that right?" Natalia's smile seemed to grow a little less bitter and a little more sad. "And you have a pet name for her too? That's pretty cute, kid."

Kiritsugu managed an outright glare at her. Up to now, he'd had more than enough of this. "Yes. And I couldn't describe her no matter how hard I tried. She's too beautiful and too genuine for that. Except that she's more than pure, and proof that I still have a soul worth saving…and that's more than even you could ever give me. I know I didn't ask for it, and I know you couldn't have given it even if you'd wanted to…but still…."

He didn't care that right now he sounded like a high-strung teenager. He knew he could only speak like this to her because of what Irisviel made him feel, and because Natalia was so much more a mother to him in his memory than ever before.

Natalia raised her eyebrows at him, and then…she burst into a laugh that was a mix between a malicious cackle and a roar of joy. "So it took me dying to get you to learn how to talk back to me? I like that after all that you've still got your own brand of guts, kid!" She finished the cigarette and then tossed it into the water as the last of the glittering debris fell into the rippling, lapping waves. "Well, you're going to need that bite, in the end. Otherwise, everything I taught you will have been pointless when you finally reach that moment in your life when everything comes together." She heaved a sigh, one hand on her hip. "And then you die."

She looked at him again, and this time there was not a trace of bitterness—nothing but overwhelming sorrow in her frosty silver eyes the likes of which Kiritsugu had never seen.

"You'll kill her too, Kiritsugu, this woman I can see in your eyes you love so dearly? I warned you about what would happen, if you only do what should do, and completely ignore what you want to do. Even with the thin hope of a child waiting for you, the emptiness of what you've done will never entirely leave you. I should know…."

Kiritsugu suddenly felt those millions of apologies and other things he'd wanted to desperately to tell her—the same things he'd wanted to tell Shirley, and his father—crowding up the top of his throat, so when he tried to speak, he couldn't seem to a get a word out except—

"Natalia—"

He opened his eyes with an intake of breath, the dream gone and he still feverish beneath the sheets of his and Irisviel's bed. But very quickly his heart rate slowed, and aside from the clammy damp he still felt all over his skin, he did notice that it no longer seemed to really be on fire.

Tentatively and slowly, he sat up, feeling his forehead. But Irisviel, curled up next to him, stirred awake anyway.

"Kiritsugu?"

He felt her slide her hand up his back as she sat up and touched him tenderly. Relaxing, he gave into it and slipped his arm around her, pulling her close. Just for now, he wanted to be reassured by the feel of her warmth. And thankfully, in the dark, she couldn't make out the look on his face.

"The nightmares again?"

"Well…yes and no. It's…hard to explain."

"I see." Irisviel rested her head against his shoulder.

Kiritsugu considered her a moment, and thought his wife seemed a bit forlorn that this was all she could do for him, that it didn't seem enough to raise his spirits. And then the lingering fragments of the dream he'd just had inspired something in him, as he recalled a memory and at the same time referred to his task of thinking up a name for their unborn daughter in an effort to distract Irisviel from her (frankly unfounded) feelings of inadequacy.

It was a name Natalia had mentioned to him once, when she'd done the rare thing of revealing to him a piece of her own past about a childhood friend she'd had. This had been when he'd still been a boy and not yet her apprentice, and looking back on it now, he thought it might have been her way of showing him empathy towards the tragic death of his friend Shirley.

"Ilya," he murmured.

"Hm?" Irisviel raised her head.

"I was thinking…maybe that would be a good name for our daughter?"

"Ilya?"

"Well…we'll say Ilyasviel…with Ilya being for short."

"Oh?"

"I added the 'sviel' like in your name, much in the same way Japanese parents will take a character from their names to pass on to their child." Kiritsugu felt himself grow a little sheepish. "Do you like it?"

Irisviel tried the sound of it out, and the smile that spread across her face was proof enough of what she felt. Still she affirmed, "I do. But what made you think of it?"

Kiritsugu explained to her the context of his thinking of it. "Natalia shared very little of her past with me, so that piece of her life was precious to me in that I felt close to her for knowing it. And I like the sound of the name Ilya, with or without the 'sviel' attached." He heaved a sigh. "There's a sweet ache to it when spoken aloud. That feels…fitting to me. But…you have the final say."

"I agree. A beautiful ache." Irisviel reached for his hand. "You wouldn't have preferred something Japanese instead? I'm simply curious."

Kiritsugu accepted her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I wanted her…to have a name…that came from you…so she could carry that part of her sweet and lovely mother with her." He bit his lip, his throat growing tight as he once again felt the weight of what he would one day ask of Irisviel for the sake of his ideals, Natalia's words in his dream echoing terribly in his mind, the way the words themselves had echoed their last conversation before he'd killed her.

Irisviel gave a watery chuckle before leaning up and brushing her lips against his cheek. "You're too kind. And it feels like your fever might finally be disappearing. I'm so glad."

Kiritsugu shut his eyes and held his wife closer, returning her kiss by pressing one into her soft silver hair. "Yeah. Me too."

"Ilyasviel then," Irisviel sighed. "Ilya. It couldn't be more perfect."

Kiritsugu found he could smile, happy that Irisviel was happy. Admittedly happy that he was no longer feverish either. Though he still had his doubts, and though he still didn't like that he had doubts, never having had any faith in the uncertain, he made the most of this moment with the woman he loved, tucking it away as a piece of sunshine for when the time came for the dark storm of despair to fall upon his life again.

For now, he could protect what was precious to him, rather than destroy it.

Now that Kiritsugu was feeling well again, he wanted nothing more than to stretch his legs outside. Irisviel happily joined him, and he happily looked forward to it as the two of them donned their coats and gloves, and Irisviel her fur hat. As it happened, she was eager as always to learn more Japanese. By now she was more than fluent in writing kanji and hiragana, but just as Kiritsugu had taken some time getting used to speaking in German most of the time, Irisviel was still adjusting to verbalizing in Japanese.

"I don't think pronunciation is one of my strong points," Irisviel admitted with a bashful laugh.

Kiritsugu casually dismissed it, with the Japanese particularity of waving the hand the same way a cat would paw at the air. "Don't worry about it. You're probably the only person in the world who could mispronounce a word in any language and not butcher it, because your voice sounds so sweet no matter what."

Truly, if it had been anyone else, Kiritsugu might have cringed a bit at the occasional mispronunciation of his native tongue, but in Irisviel's case, she could make anything she spoke sound beautiful, because it was her voice. And it made him consider the idea of one day getting her to sing with a voice like that.

For now, he was pleased to see Irisviel was pleased with his compliment, and it earned him a kiss on the cheek.

But then she teased, "Ah…you're in need of a shave."

"Hm." Kiritsugu rubbed his growing stubble self-consciously. "Yeah, you're right. I am." He chuckled. "Anyway, since you're so concerned about pronunciation, why don't we start with something simple? Here—" He pointed to a nearby walnut tree. "The word for 'tree' is 'ki'."

"Kee," Irisviel repeated, and then giggled because she thought the Japanese word was rather cute.

"Good. And 'cute', or 'how cute' or 'he/she/it's cute' in Japanese is, 'kawaii," Kiritsugu added with a rather playful wink.

"Ka-wa-eeee," Irisviel experimented, and then snorted again with laughter.

"Excellent. And this is what kind of tree?" Kirtisugu knocked said tree with his knuckles, peeking out from the other side of it as to instigate a kind of cat-and-mouse diversion.

"Well that's easy, it's a walnut."

"Correct! And the Japanese word for 'walnut' is 'kurumi'—ah, except this one, this is a kind of walnut called a 'wingnut', which in Japanese is called 'cho natto'."

"Koo-roo-mee and chow no-toe."

"Close enough."

He let Irisviel catch up to him around the tree, and when she reached him he tugged her close and dropped a small kiss on her small nose, and she giggled again.

For now, he reveled in the fact that he could, at present, abandon the identity of the other man that inhabited his body, the man that coldly threatened with a knife, interrogated without pity, or eliminated a crowd of people—regardless of their innocence—who stood in the way of justice with the simple pull of a trigger and a rain of bullets. Being with Irisviel, he had found a way to compartmentalize that aspect of his life at last, at the very least to keep from losing his mind over it. She made it possible for him to tear away that false identity and reveal the true self he'd hidden for so long, the true self that was simply kind and wanted everyone around him to be happy.

It began to snow, and with it descended that peaceful quiet particular to such precipitation upon Kiritsugu and Irisviel's laughter. Looking up, Irisviel asked what snow was called in Japanese.

"'Yuki'," Kiritsugu explained.

"Yew-wew-kee," Irisviel pronounced with a little overemphasis, trying too hard to develop an accent.

"And the color of snow is white—or 'shirou'."

"Sheer-row…."

Irisviel tipped back her head and caught a snowflake on her tongue, like when Kiritsugu first showed her the day they found the red rose growing. The rose itself had long since withered in its crystal vase.

Kiritsugu caught a snowflake on the tip of his gloved finger, and for a moment caught the stark contrast of white on black before it melted into the leather. He caught another and managed to show Irisviel before that too melted.

"In Japanese, this snowflake would be called 'seppen'. But there's another, more poetic term for it, 'yuki no hana', which literally means 'snow flower'."

Irisviel's bright red eyes grew with wonderment at this, and caught a snowflake on her own gloved finger. She could still make it out, even with it being white against white, and watched as it melted away as well. "It is rather like a flower, isn't it? And there's something…comforting to me in the fact that no two are alike. I don't know why, I just like that fact so much."

"Hm." Kiritsugu looked up again, and breathed in deep, so glad to be out of bed and on his feet again. He'd thought he'd go insane from all of that inaction.

"You know, I wonder then," Irisviel began, "how is it that those Japanese mansions stay warm when it snows like this? Since the walls are made of paper and everything."

Kiritsugu turned his full attention back to his wife and explained about things like electric space-heaters and kotatsu, the blankets that go around the table to keep the people sitting around it warm.

"That's good then," said Irisviel. "From those pictures, those mansions had such a mystique about them, especially surrounded by all that white snow. Like Time too was frozen, along with the land."

At the dreamy look in Irisviel's eyes, Kiritsugu ventured to ask, "You admire the look of those houses?"

A soft smile touched his wife's lips, and she plucked aimlessly at the fingertips of her gloves. "I think it'd be nice to see one for real. There were so many in those Japanese ghost stories I read."

"Japan holds much fascination for you, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does. After all, it's where you were born."

"Oh, is that all?" Kiritsugu teased.

"Well, no," Irisviel admitted, playing along. "If you must know, all those pictures…. Everything there has this unique art form. It's refreshing from what you find here. Then again…I don't have much to compare it too…" she added, unable to keep out the sober tone.

It pierced Kiritsugu's heart like a shard of glass though, but he did his best to keep it hidden. "Don't worry about it. You've done so formidably with what you've learned. But in the end I suppose I should have expected no less from you."

This brought back Irisviel's smile, and brighter than before, and that was enough for Kiritsugu.

"So you say you're proud of me?" Irisviel shook back her hair in that superior, regal fashion of hers, giving her husband a look of smugness.

"Very much so."

"Ha, ha, ha. Good answer."

Kiritsugu laughed, warm and genuine.

They passed the tree where Irisviel had discovered the nest of dead baby birds. But nothing like that could destroy Irisveil's serene joy in this moment, and Kiritsugu felt joy in his own way for that.

But then Irisviel winced in obvious pain, her hand flying to her stomach.

Kiritsugu stopped. "Iri?"

After a minute, Irisviel's face relaxed and she gave Kiritsugu her smile again. "It's all right. I think my session with Grandpapa earlier today was just a little bigger adjustment than expected. Our little girl was simply adapting to the strong new effects. She'll be quite the fighter then, won't she?"

Though Kiritsugu did his best to share in her laughing this off, it was difficult to ignore his apprehension over this business of taking measures to groom two homunculi at the same time for lives that were ultimately created for the sole purpose of being sacrificed. His growing anguish concerning Irisviel's fate and all that entailed weighed all the more heavily on his heart, and although he continued to conceal these feelings from her, he was finding that unusually difficult now. He had to look away from his wife this time as he realized they were breaking through his facade. He couldn't afford to let her see even a trace.

But Irisviel read something anyway in the way he increased the pressure of his hand on hers as he held it. "Kiritsugu? What is it?"

Kiritsugu was afraid to speak. "It's nothing." Against his will his voice came out gruffer than he would have liked.

Before Irisviel could press him further, he pulled her into his arms quite fiercely and held her as tight as he could, desperate to regain control in the solace he found in the embrace of the woman he loved. He knew then for certain that if it were up to him, if things were different, he would do what he truly wanted and do everything and anything to protect her and their unborn daughter. But here he had the audacity to love what he must one day kill. Logically, considering his ultimate goal, it was probably the stupidest thing he could have done.

And yet….

"Kiritsugu…." Irisviel was shaking nearly as much as he was. "What's wrong, my love?"

"Nothing's wrong," Kiritsugu lied, doing his utmost to keep the despair out of his voice. He hugged his wife tighter. "I just…want you to know that you should never believe for a moment that I don't love you. Can you promise me that?"

"Of course I can. After all, I have faith in you."

Kiritsugu was relieved to hear nothing but love and happiness in Irsviel's voice. He reached up and stroked her soft hair with the same reverence he would an angel of mercy—the kind of thing he could never be, but wished he could all the same.

"Good. Then I swear to you, no matter what, I won't fail you."

Yet even as he said this, Kiritsugu still felt he was lying, but it was the very best thing he could offer her in the way of protection. And once again he shut his eyes tight against the threat of tears.

Even though Acht had only had a scholar's curiosity in the results of Kiritsugu teaching Irisviel about the world, where learning the history of the Heroic Spirit they wished to summon into the powerful Saber Class, Arthur Pendragon, was concerned, he was naturally adamant as to its being requisite learning. Although Kiritsugu continued to allude to his misgivings about his compatibility with such a Spirit, Irisviel had to admit that she was developing a kind of admiration for the man, that even in the moment of his downfall he remained true to his values as a king willing to do everything and anything to serve those he led.

And Kiritsugu couldn't help but be a little annoyed by this, even though he knew Irisviel's naivety played a factor in it. Maybe he was actually jealous.

But the more Irisviel learned about the legendary King Arthur, the more her interest in people revered as martyred heroes was peaked, which also caused Kiritsugu some personal discomfiture. Though he couldn't blame her for one such as her drawing inspiration from such figures, seeing as how her path would lead her down the same road, it was precisely for that same reason that it made Kiritsugu so uncomfortable about it.

"You know, Kiritsugu, even though you carry so much anger for the Heroic Spirits, you can't deny the kind of inspiration their stories evoke," she said the next afternoon in the library.

"That's precisely the problem," Kiritsugu grumbled, suddenly itching for a cigarette for the first time in a while.

Irisviel frowned. "How can inspiring hope be a problem?"

After considering her and her question a moment, Kiritsugu was forced to admit that, "As smart and sharp and full of Einzbern wisdom as you are, this is something you just wouldn't understand."

"Because of my lack of experience?"

"Yes."

"Try me anyway."

Kiritsugu heaved a very beleaguered sigh. "No, Iri. Because I don't want to try to make you understand. It's enough that you are aware that the world can be at once cruel and beautiful. Just let me keep these particular thoughts to myself."

"Is it because you really don't have enough faith in me after all?" Irisviel challenged.

Kiritsugu didn't answer. He could only think:

No, it's because something that causes me such anger causes you such happiness. Because I envy your ability to believe in such fairytales. Because I don't want to see you suffer the same disappointment and loss of faith that I did when I realized that a "white knight" kind of justice alone can never prevail in a world like this.

Still, the glare Irisviel was giving him now was nothing short of impressive.

"Is it because you think so little of my opinion?" she pressed.

And before he could stop himself, Kiritsugu retorted with, "Of course I value your opinion very much. In marrying you, I trusted you with my life, just as you've trusted me with yours—putting aside the unfortunate fact that I'll have to kill you one day. Then you can be counted among those martyrs you admire so much."

As soon as he spoke these words, Kiritsugu immediately regretted them.

The look Irisviel gave him was worse than any physical blow. Actually he would have much preferred that she get up from her chair and smack him.

But she didn't. She just stared at him with a mixture of anger, hurt, and...guilt.

That last one hit Kiritsugu the hardest. Irisviel had nothing for which she should feel guilty. The only one at fault here was he.

After she recovered from her initial shock, Irisviel asked, very slowly and carefully, "Why is it...that there are so many things I want to say to you, but all I can do is just barely hold back the urge to throw something at you?" Her hands clutching the book she was examining was shaking, the knuckles actually whiter than the rest of her skin.

"That...is anger," Kiritsugu told her solemnly.

"I see. And what do I do if I don't want to hurt you even when my body is shrieking at me to?"

"Walk away. Scream into a pillow. Go outside and wreck something. I can write you a list."

"No, that will do."

Just as Irisviel took him up on his first suggestion, rose up, and stalked with resplendent fury out of the library, Kititsugu felt the separation cleave his heart, and with a groan he massaged the flat of his forehead with the heel of his head.

In the old days he would have never spoken so, simply out of a fit of frustration. Now however, he was inspired to act on emotional impulses as if making up for lost time. Or something like that.

Unable to sit still either, he got up and paced the room, feeling much as he did the day he wrestled with giving Irisviel a choice in her fate. And even after, she had chosen him.

With an attempt at trying to see people like the great and noble King Arthur the way Irisviel was able to, he picked up the abandoned book on the man and flicked through a few pages of the text, much of which consisted of scholarly studies of the various works translated from Old English that served now as nothing more than dusty epitaphs to a man who had thrown away everything in the name of saving his people and had gained nothing for it. But all it did was give further strength to his belief that the man had been nothing but another shining fool to whom even his wife and most trusted friend couldn't be faithful.

He tossed the book back onto Irisviel's chair. Then he kicked the leg of his own chair, giving a snarl of fury.

"Shut up," he muttered under his breath. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up…bastard."

This was the life he had chosen. He'd had no choice in the matter because the feelings that beat deep inside his heart drove him inexorably, and in those moments when he'd toyed with the idea of abandoning his goals, he'd made himself so sick to his stomach with self-loathing he'd scarcely been able to breathe. He knew no other way, even now, when he'd fallen in love with the very last life he would one day sacrifice for his ideals. And she was such a pure life too, and here he was, screwing up his efforts to at least give her as much happiness as he could. It could never match the debt he owed her, but still, it was enough that for all of that, his heart would forever remain true to her, regardless of what his mind and body did.

After so long of being driven by a single impulse, he was, for the first time, split by an opposing impulse that was equally strong. Still, he would overcome it. He had promised her he wouldn't fail her. She would make not only the last pure sacrifice this world would need to make when he succeeded in obtaining the Grail, but also the first that would succeed where other sacrifices had failed, and truly bring peace upon the Earth, forever break the cycle of hate, rage, and sorrow.

A painful need filled him now, and a very simple one too, just one to atone for speaking so cruelly as he did. Heaving another heavy sigh, he left the library.

But he didn't find Irisviel in their bedroom, as he'd assumed that's where she'd have gone. Nor did she appear to have gone out, as her coat, hat, and gloves were still hanging with the outdoor wear of the other members of the Einzbern family. He only found her when he retreated to his office. She was curled up on the sofa perpendicular to the desk, leafing through one of the books off his private shelf.

Before he could assess what it was though, she had already closed it, acknowledging his entrance into the room. And of all things, when she looked around at him, her silver hair spilling softly down her back, she gave him a smile, if a fragile one.

"I thought you'd come here eventually, but I didn't want you to find me right away." Irisviel became very demure. "Now that you're here though, I feel happy again. All the anger in me's gone."

Even though Kiritsugu was full of guilt, he also had to admit that he too was glad, glad that he could see her smile again, that she no longer bore any anger towards him. He himself forgot all of his frustration from before, and wanted nothing more than to keep her happy as before.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, closing the door behind him and sitting beside her on the sofa at her invitation. "I didn't mean what I said. Or rather, I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I just…."

Irisviel studied him a moment, and seemed to be forming a conclusion after quite some time thinking on something. His gaze flicked to the book she'd been reading, and got a good look at last at the cover. It was a tome comprised of the letters from soldiers to loved ones collected over time from various different wars—a personal collection of just a pocketful of the world's despair that he could carry with him in physical form.

As if….

"Kiritsugu."

Kiritsugu looked up from the book, meeting her affectionate gaze. "Yes?"

Irisviel tucked a few strands of silver hair behind her ear. "Even if you didn't say as much, I feel like…well, it's just a feeling but…."

"Iri?"

His wife met his dark eyes with her red ones more directly, leaning toward him. "I see now that…for you…well you…you couldn't believe in the kindness of this world…."

"Ah…."

"…so you…you were kinder than anyone else…."

Kiritsugu blinked, taken aback a moment. But her words quickly sunk in, and he had no choice but to push them away, because—

"That isn't true."

"Oh yes it is," his wife insisted, casting the book aside on the little table next to the sofa. "Even when you said what you said, it's only because your heart suffers for my fate, that even though you love me, your ideals force you to place my life beneath that of the salvation of the rest of the world."

"Iri—"

"But you didn't want to tell me that, did you? Because at the same time you want to spare me pain."

Kiritsugu looked away. "Well, you…."

"When I first met you," Irisviel told him, "I could form no real opinion of you. But we've come a long way from that first meeting, we both have. And despite what you call your many sins, what you describe as the crushing weight of all the lives you have taken in the name of your justice, you still have it in you to express and feel things like human love. True, it took your having to teach me such things to remember that you yourself still had those things inside you, from what I can tell, but just the same…they're there. What could be more real than the unconscious impulses beneath our actions? Things we can't voluntarily control because they're so deeply buried within us, forming the essence of who we really are. You can be anything you want on the outside, but it doesn't change the fact that you gave me something immensely precious from deep within yourself. The kindness of a man who is kind for no other reason than to see others smile."

"I…."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kiritsugu saw his wife pass her hand over the subtle swell of her stomach, as if trying already to cradle the life growing inside her, a strong life that he could live for when all of this was over. It was a small gesture, but it moved him greatly.

He reached over and touched Irisviel's face, admiring just how cute and lovely it was, how sweet. "Iri…" he whispered.

At this, the enthusiastic color rose in Irisviel's cheeks, her eyes shining, leaning into his hand. He responded by tracing the curve of her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

"Do you have any more Japanese words for me today?" she asked him, turning back into her old playful self.

"Hmmm…well…." Kiritsugu stroked her face a moment longer, then drew closer, threading strands of her hair between his fingers as he brushed it back. "Well…there's 'otoko' which means 'man'…."

"Oh-toe-ko…."

"And 'onna' for 'woman'…."

"Oh-na…."

Kiritsugu slid his fingers out of her hair and then touched the soft line of her lips, bringing to mind things that were beautiful and red. "And 'ichigo' means 'strawberry'…and 'benibara' for 'red rose'…."

"I still think my favorite," Irisviel admitted, "is 'anata'…'my love'…."

She spoke this word quite perfectly, and it was enough that Kiritsugu could no longer speak. Unable to hold back any longer, he took her lips in his, softly and kindly. As kind as he could possibly be.

After recovering from illness, Kiritsugu not only went back to work as far as monitoring information that came in daily concerning all that was cropping up in preparation for the Fourth Holy Grail War, but he also returned to his usual vigil outside the alchemy workshop while Irisviel went in for her usual session with Acht. And brooding out of the window, he contemplated the dual sense of joy and pain that loving Irisviel brought him.

Not the smartest moment to provoke him.

"Ah, waiting for our lady love, are we?" came the sneer of Malte von Einzbern, who held a deeper grudge against Kiritsugu since that day in the foyer.

Kiritsugu turned a glare on him that spoke volumes. But since Malte's return from abroad, this was inevitable. And Malte was nursing too much anger towards Kiritsugu to heed the warning signs.

"Well it's no business of mine what possessed you to marry and impregnate a pretty puppet like Irisviel, but then maybe you did it out of shame that you were lusting after an empty little doll. You Japanese and your fetish—"

Before Malte knew what hit him in time to scream for help, Kiritsugu had him pressed against the opposite wall with a knife to his throat.

Kiritsugu couldn't help a bitter and derisive smile at the look of terror on Malte's face. "No, continue, please. I'm dying to hear more about what you think of my wife and me."

Malte could only choke out an incoherent sound of fear, and Kiritsugu pressed the blade harder against his skin, just underneath his Adam's apple.

But then the door to the alchemy workshop opened and Irisviel and Acht both appeared.

"Kiritsugu!" Irisviel exclaimed, her hand flying to her throat.

"What's this?" Jubstacheit rumbled.

Kiritsugu withdrew, turning from the gasping, whimpering Malte in disgust. "He insulted Irisviel."

Malte, who had sunk to the floor, clutched his neck and rasped out, "Bastard," to which Kiritsugu turned his knife on him again.

"Emiya!" barked Jubstacheit.

Kiritsugu's dark eyes flashed fire in Jubstacheit's direction now, which was enough to convince the family head not to punish him for threatening his grandson. And for Kiritsugu, it was enough to convince him to put his knife away and leave the situation concluded at that point. But he wasn't calm until Irisviel's ever-soothing presence was beside him, taking his hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured him, and this quelled his anger.

He nodded a curt dismissal to Jubstacheit and the still-whimpering Malte, and then he and Irisviel left for the library.

"Kiritsugu, I know you were sticking up for me and only acted out of anger on my behalf, but you really shouldn't have attacked Cousin Malte like that," Irisviel admonished later that night.

They had spent the rest of the day in the library as usual, but had passed the time in trembling silence, save for a few murmured exchanges here and there. But now they were once again returned to the warmth of their own bedroom, yet the atmosphere was like that of the eternal winter outside. Irisviel was forced to break through it as she slid into her nightgown.

At her words, Kiritsugu, who was sat in a chair by the fire, chin resting on his meditatively folded hands, heaved a sigh as beleaguered as the one he heaved the day Irisviel had experienced her first sense of anger, and with him no less then too. "Iri…as your husband, I am sworn to defend your honor. Let me at least do that, since there's so little else I can do for you."

Irisviel paused in shaking her hair out of her face after letting the hem of her gown drop. "Eh?"

"It's nothing," Kiritsugu dismissed, ironing his knuckles across his forehead.

Yet he felt Irisviel watch him with concerned curiosity. And then, rather meekly, she asked, "Kiritsugu…is this…more of what you were feeling the other day?"

Kiritsugu looked up at his wife, only to quickly look away. But he felt her draw near and became afraid. Though he continued to avoid eye contact, he sneaked another glance at her expression, unable to help himself. "Even if it is, I still can't…there's nothing you can do…."

"Why not?" Irisviel demanded, though gently.

Yet already, making himself so vulnerable made it difficult for Kiritsugu to breathe, feeling as cornered as he did the day Irisviel first approached him about love. "I…can't…."

"What is it that Malte said that was such an insult to me?" Irisviel asked instead, switching tactics.

Her husband massaged his hands back and forth in his increasing agitation, his fury with himself for letting his weaknesses get the better of him. Indeed, she had gained more insight into his heart than he would have ever dreamed possible when they'd first met, but still, she mustn't see this very last shred of him, the part of him that was given true voice only once in his life, when he'd roared in anguish at the indifferent heavens in the aftermath of sinking Natalia. Unbidden, he thought of that last dream he'd had of her, and then immediately regretted it when it only seemed to make things worse.

Swallowing, he tried to speak and hide the tremor creeping in. "He…made it clear that there was no logical reason for me to love a doll like you. And he's right."

"I see."

Kiritsugu did not miss the despondency in her tone, and before he could stop himself, he looked up at her straight on again. "But you've become so much more than that. I did that, but then in the end I'll just…."

Irisviel's eyes widened as she watched him desperately fight the threatening inner collapse of his soul, and at the same time he grew apprehensive of frightening her.

He clenched and unclenched his hands. "No…I don't…I can't…."

But it was already too late. The tears betrayed him then as they began to fall. Control was steadily slipping further away from him, even as he desperately tried to hang onto it. Until—

"I can't…kill you…" he choked out. "There must be…another way…why can't there be…another way…?"

Unable to stem the flow of fresh blood from the wounds in his heart, he became dizzy with emotions he hadn't allowed himself the luxury of fully feeling unchecked since the day he killed Natalia. And much as he did on that day, as he bent beneath the weight of his grief, spearing his fingers through his hair, his shoulders shaking, he let out a howl of pain as he lost himself entirely in it.

And the tears went on falling, breaking free, so cold against his skin as he let out sob after gasping sob.

Before he could have a chance to resist her, Irisviel, standing awestruck as a witness to such open anguish from him, was suddenly there, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He tried pushing her away, but she held fast to him.

"You'd deny me this?" she scolded him. "When you did the same for me when I cried over the dead baby birds? I won't allow you to suffer alone this way."

Kiritsugu gulped enough of his tears that at least he could speak again. "But Iri…I love you too much…this was a mistake…."

"No, regret none of it, my love, it must be done, you said so yourself."

"I was speaking with the idiocy of a dreaming child!"

"That doesn't matter! A dream so pure is more than worthy of my life, if it will not only save the world, but you too! That's why I must be the one to do it, to die and fulfill my role as the Grail Vessel…."

"Iri, no…."

Irisviel buried her face in his dark hair. "Yes. Because I love you, I will do whatever it takes, gladly give up my life for your dream, for a world that no longer holds all the suffering that you have seen and endured yourself. Do you hear that, Kiritsugu? I have pride in my function now, just like you asked of me. I'm proud that I can fulfill this role as your wife. Proud."

Catching his breath even as the tears went on flowing, Kiritsugu at last reached up and took hold of Irisviel by her forearm, gripping her sweet softness desperately. "But I love you such that were you to ask it of me, I would die for you, without hesitation, that I would protect you with my very life. I shouldn't be…."

"But you mustn't waver!" Irisviel hugged him tighter, enveloping him in her iris scent. "You must succeed. For the sake of saving this world. And because I can help you make it happen. I can save you, just as you saved me. Remember?"

Kiritsugu nodded, even as his heart went on hurting terribly. It was enough for him to regain his resolve, because she had reminded him that no matter what, she would always be with him in spirit, and in the moments of despair that were yet to come, he could at least think of that, give his and Irisviel's love to their child, and have a future of his own worth living on for in the new world the two of them would fight together to create.

"Very well. As usual, I'm no match for you." He managed a watery laugh in spite of himself.

Irisviel laughed too, and he felt her tears fall like a soft, cleansing rain. "Just believe in me, as I believe in you, and all will be well. Even if it is with a child's heart."

Though it didn't need to be said, Kiritsugu knew then that he could trust Irisviel with his weaknesses as much as he could his strengths. She would take care of them both, and for that, he swore to himself all the more fiercely that he would do all he could to take care of hers in turn and make her the happiest woman in the world.

For now…for now, he was allowed to be that kind of selfish.