Chapter Twenty-Six

A Reason to Go On Living

Kiritsugu had seen quite a few summers in his life, but given the way he had lived, he had enjoyed very few of them, and of course he didn't count the time he spent at Einzbern castle as containing any enjoyable summers only because he saw his time there as one long winter that had entirely changed his life, for better and for worse.

So his first summer with Shirou stuck out in his memory in many ways, most notably for the riot of joy and pain that played side by side in his heart when they watched the fireflies emerge from the tall grass as the two of them walked along the edge of the forest near the obon festival Kiritsugu had taken them to. As Shirou turned to him wearing the most wondrous smile Kiritsugu had seen on him yet, he was achingly reminded of Ilya, of her own particular word for fireflies, "star bugs", of how he had been unable once again to save her after another recent attempt, and he would not be able to fulfill his promise this time around, taking her to see the fireflies, any more than he'd been able to take her to see the cherry blossoms bloom in the spring. Still, that look that Shirou gave him also gave him the strength to go on hoping every day of his life.

In the time that had passed since then, Kiritsugu had made many more attempts to rescue Ilya, all of them failing, even when he tried at one point to win Elke over to his cause by mentioning that Aloisia would've let him in, only because he knew it in his heart to be true. But as ever, Elke had remained unmoved.

Now marked his third summer since he had taken Shirou in, and Kiritsugu had long lost count of how many times he'd tried and failed to rescue his daughter. But he was bent on trying, and only death or some physical hindrance would stop him, for that was his way, the stubbornness in him that hadn't quite faded.

Having returned to Fuyuki, Shirou greeted him as usual, eager, as children are, to spend time with him now he was back.

"What do you say to a little kendo practice?" Kiritsugu suggested, eager to clandestinely work off his own frustration at having failed his daughter again. "I'm afraid I can't measure up to Taiga, but even so."

"Sure!" And Shirou shot off like a fish in water to go get on his hakama and grab his own little shinai.

Kiritsugu chuckled as he watched his retreating back, thinking the boy had grown a little and he hadn't realized it until now. Then he winced as his legs smarted, and he massaged them a bit before getting up to work out the stiffness in them that had grown more frequent of late. Hopefully a bout of kendo would help with that too.

Despite Shirou's size, when it came to kendo, he showed a spirit that far exceeded his physicality. He had developed a habit of running headlong at his opponent, heeding little of the fact that were Kiritsugu serious about it, he could easily overpower him in so many ways. Which was not to say that Kiritsugu cheated Shirou by going easy on him (Taiga certainly didn't), but he did accommodate fairly for Shirou's much smaller stature. Still, he admired that his adopted son proved to possess a great heart, a pure one undoubtedly.

After Shirou dealt the final blow, Kiritsugu just barely blocked it by the skin of his teeth. And it took him more effort than he would have believed normal for him two years ago to catch his breath. But he had his suspicions, and he was beginning lately to think that Shirou's moniker for him, "old man", grew more appropriate every day.

But he didn't let on to Shirou that anything was potentially wrong. That habit hadn't faded either.

"Jii-san?" Shirou peered at him with some concern.

However, despite everything, the racing of Kiritsugu's heart from the activity was also energizing in its way, and he looked up at Shirou with a flushed, smiling face.

"I'm fine, Shirou." Kiritsugu straightened when he was able, getting a buoyant feeling as he suddenly remembered those times he'd taught Irisviel self-defense. Shirou's spirit reminded him of his wife's in this, as had happened many times before. "You did well today." He wiped the sweat off his brow.

Shirou examined his shinai. "Hey...jii-san...do you think maybe then...someday...I could be good enough to handle a real sword?"

Kiritsugu looked at his son and then laughed. "I don't see why not, but what do you plan on doing with that?"

And the way Shirou looked at him and then looked away reminded him very much of himself, of that night when Shirley asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. Except the roles were reversed.

"Well...lately I've been thinking a lot about...the night you saved me..." Shirou finally admitted.

Kiritsugu became wary. "I see." He had a feeling now that Shirou might make another bid to see if he might reconsider his initial decision to not teach him magecraft.

"I just started thinking…maybe…if I'd been stronger…." Shirou clenched his free hand into a fist. "If I'd been stronger…would I have been able…to help…everyone…get out of…that fire…?"

"Hm." Kiritsugu felt an upsurge of affectionate empathy for his son. After all, he'd felt the same way after the disaster on Arimago Island. Considering his own shinai, he said, "Unfortunately, it isn't that simple, Shirou. What you're describing is having the power to save everyone. And that just isn't possible. That kind of power doesn't exist."

"But…if jii-san taught me…" Shirou protested.

"No, Shirou," Kiritsugu cut across him, and he went over to put his shinai away. "I'm sorry. But there's nothing of value in magecraft that I can teach you."

There's certainly nothing you can learn that would help people, Kiritsugu thought miserably to himself. It only brings pain and destruction. Mages like my father never wanted to use it to help people, like Shirley thought, just to achieve their own selfish ends to find something that probably doesn't even exist…to find their precious Root, Akasha, while people die left and right….

Even so, he could feel Shirou's severe disappointment, and he wanted to make it up to him. After all, the day after tomorrow was Shirou's eighth birthday…

…and Ilya would be…eleven….

"What would you like to do?" Kiritsugu asked Shirou as the two of them left the dojo to change from their hakama and into their kimono. "And don't forget, there's a present in it for you too."

Shirou shrugged. "Just as long as I can spend the day with you, I'm happy enough."

"Ah." "Happy enough", is it, Shirou?

Kiritsugu looked over his son with that same sense of empathy, wishing there was more he could do to inspire some greater happiness in him. There were times in between the brilliant moments of joy that Shirou seemed to take things as they were without really feeling anything like happiness or sorrow. Not as though he didn't care either way, but just as though he were merely accepting of the world around him, in the sense that he felt he had no right to feel happy or sad about anything.

He reached over and ruffled Shirou's red hair, and Shirou looked around him, blinking his bright, golden-brown eyes. Kiritsugu smiled, forgetting his own sadness in face of Shirou's own difficulties with similar emotions.

"That's okay, Shirou. I'll think of something special. Simple and special."

And that's exactly what happened. Kiritsugu invited Taiga over, and she gave him an available time given her busy schedule with her working to get her teaching license now that she was graduated from high school, and the three of them had a small dinner, where Shirou opened a gift from both of them, unaware that the two of them had colluded beforehand.

After all this time looking indecisively in that toy store window, Kiritsugu and Taiga had somewhat made a decision for him. The third option of the toy gun had been removed from the equation by Kiritsugu, and so it was that Shirou opened the gift of the toy sword and shield from Taiga, the Mistress of Kendo, and the toy bow and quiver of arrows from Kiritsugu.

It was clear when he opened them that he too had clearly discarded the gun, and had just been trying to decide between the sword and the bow this whole time.

"Want to give it a try outside?" Kiritsugu offered as Taiga giggled at Shirou's unbridled expression of excitement that had erupted impulsively in spite of his usual and recent behavior.

Shirou nodded and reached for the bow and arrows first, eyeing another one of the trees in the garden—not the one that sheltered "Irisviel's irises", as Kiritsugu referred to them in his head. Taiga was about to accompany him to help him out, but Shirou insisted he wanted to figure it out for himself.

After a few minutes of struggle, Shirou managed to knock the arrow onto the string of the bow and hold it the way he'd seen in many a TV show and movie and read in books and manga. Squeezing one eye shut as he focused with the other, he pulled back on the string, perhaps a little too amateurishly far, his untested hands trembling, and then he let the arrow fly—

Only to have it skew quite off target and fall lamely short of reaching it, landing softly and uselessly in the grass.

"Relax a bit!" Taiga called out to him, despite his protestations against assistance. "I can tell from here you're too tense!"

Shirou shot her an annoyed look but he seemed to heed her advice and tried again.

Kiritsugu smiled, shaking his head, and then watched as on Shirou's second attempt, he shot off the arrow with far greater ease, hitting the heart of the tree handily with it. He joined Taiga in clapping praise for Shirou's efforts, but Shirou, while he turned and smiled their way, he thought with a measure of concern that his smile was a bit lackluster.

As though he didn't feel anything like pride in his own accomplishment.

Oh Shirou…what am I going to do with you?

For the most part, Shirou had done very well in school so far. He hadn't caused any problems, done his best to keep his grades up, and while he didn't seem to really make any close friends, at least not ones that he ever felt the need to invite over to the Emiya residence, he seemed content enough interacting with his classmates.

At the end of the day on the first day of going back to school, Kiritsugu went to collect Shirou as usual. As he walked into the schoolyard wearing his old suit, as he usually donned his Western clothes when he went out for things like appointments and meetings (though he had kept those less and less frequently and stayed more and more within the confines of the Emiya house, or in the company of Raiga Fujimura, where he wore kimono instead), he spotted Shirou among the crowd of gathering, waiting kids, and immediately picked up on the fact that his little son had adopted a fighting stance, while a little girl on the ground behind him crouched and cried like she'd been seriously hurt.

With alarm bells going off, Kiritsugu quickened his pace, while Shirou had his hands curled into little fists, facing off with another boy who had a mean look about him, laughing even at the little girl crying on the ground. He seemed to say something, and whatever it was, it caused Shirou to snap before Kiritsugu could reach him to try and diffuse the situation, since no teachers appeared to be around at present.

Before he knew it, his son was attacking the other boy in a kind of frenzy, one that surprised all of the other kids watching, and certainly the mean-faced boy himself. He pinned him down and pummeled him with his tiny fists, and it was the mean-faced boy's surprise that had rendered him cornered and unable to retaliate. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting Shirou to come after him like that.

"It's wrong to do bad things, Matsushita!" Shirou shouted, almost crazily, in the mean-faced boy's ear. "It's wrong to hurt other people!"

Of course, being a child, he wasn't really aware of the irony of his words in this particular situation. Even so, Kiritsugu fully understood what was driving him. After all, in the time he had spent raising Shirou, he had done his best to set an example of a kind person who exhibited the simple heroisms of helping out a fellow human being when the situation presented itself. The world couldn't be saved, but at the very least, Kiritsugu could still be the sort of person who would pass on acts of kindness like small blessings to those around him. And of course, Shirou and Taiga both had counted themselves among his modest admirers, which Kiritsugu had learned to take without complaint at this point.

But then, perhaps even now, Shirou still recalled that moment in one of the public parks, when Kiritsugu had stood up for a wife being slapped by her husband by rendering him defenseless with the use of minor physical force. It was as though, underneath that quiet, unassuming boy who had emerged from the ashes of the Fuyuki Fire, there was a raging flame beneath that burned as fiercely as Kiritsugu's own flame once had, when he was a young soul who yearned only to make a world where everyone could be happy, unable to bear watching the suffering of others, for the simple fact that he was one of the few who could only be described as "ruthlessly kind".

Without having to ask for details, he could see now from the girl crying on the ground that Shirou had been standing up for her, and it was only whatever the mean-faced boy named Matsushita had said that had spurred Shirou into taking violent action.

"Shirou!"

Having reached the two grappling boys, Kiritsugu hooked Shirou underneath the arms and pried him off Matsushita, while at the same time he became aware that a teacher and a mother who had just arrived were running over to see to the trouble.

Even as Kiritsugu held him though, Shirou squirmed, clawing at the air and shouting angry words.

"Hey! Why'd you pull me off? I have to stop him!" Looking around and seeing it was Kiritsugu who had him though, Shirou quit struggling and became very contrite indeed. "Oh…jii-san..."

Seeing that he would no longer lash out, Kiritsugu set Shirou down carefully on his feet just as the head teacher, Nakano, arrived on the scene, prepared to dole out justice where necessary. Matsushita, for his part, was crying in the arms of the mother, presumably his own then, as for her part, she turned on Shirou with a ferocious look as she held her crying son to her. "What does he think he's doing, beating on my boy like that?"

Kiritsugu was sadly reminded of how selfish parental love could be as he said, "I believe he was just trying to protect the little miss here," as the other teacher who had intervened knelt beside said crying girl and tried to get a coherent response out of her regarding what happened.

"Oh, don't worry, your mama will be here," the teacher finally resigned herself to saying, rubbing the little girl's back, as the little girl seemed to do little else but sob.

"He said he didn't care what I did, he was just gonna keep beating Koizumi," Shirou growled, turning angry again as he glared at Matsushita cowering in his mother's embrace. "So I decided I'd do something, at least to try and stop him."

Matsushita's mother gasped, looking affronted, but at the same time, it seemed that she was not entirely surprised that her precious son could be so cruel, and she bit her lip, torn between wanting to comfort her son and wanting to punish him if he had indeed been abusing a fellow classmate, but both sentiments born of love for him.

Kiritsugu sighed, quietly lamenting at how early on some people's sense of cruelty developed, for whatever reason. Though he'd eventually befriended all of the other kids on Arimago Island, when he'd first arrived there as a small boy, he'd been that little kid fidgeting with the hem of his shirt while he got picked on for something as inconsequential as having a weird name. But partly thanks to Shirley, that had quickly faded. Perhaps that had been what had first drawn him to her. It was hard to believe that he had been the same, meek child who'd wanted nothing more than to get along with everyone and make friends and play.

The head teacher, Nakano, took a moment to catch her breath when she arrived before saying, "Is everyone all right? Who's hurt?"

While Nakano might have patiently taken into account Shirou's youth and the fact that he was acting in defense of a fellow student, offering a slap on the wrist to both him and Matsushita as an equal punishment, Kiritsugu had his own piece to say as the two of them walked home.

At first, Kiritsugu let the fuming silence burn between them, allowing the dust to settle and everything to sink in, before he quietly asked, "Shirou…what were you thinking?"

"I didn't like what he was doing to her," Shirou muttered. "It made me angry. It made me angry because she was hurting because of him. But…I only hurt him back because he wouldn't stop when I asked him to. Nakano-sensei's always saying, 'Use your words', but I used them, and it still wasn't enough." He kicked at a rock in his path and sent it flying haphazardly across the road where it barreled and crashed into the curb.

"You should have brought it to the attention of a teacher though," Kiritsugu pointed out. "You're too young…."

"But what would you have done?" Shirou looked up at him, wearing an expression that was at once frustrated and about to break. "Jii-san, I know you wouldn't have let that happen without a fight! I've seen you!"

Kiritsugu heaved a sigh as he felt his legs start to cramp up on him again. Acting as if he was stopping merely out of his own mixed feelings of frustration with and urge to help his son, he stopped to give them a chance to uncramp themselves, running a hand through his dark hair as a mild headache came on. "Shirou…I've…tried to set the example that it's all well and good to stand up for those in need…but…without resorting to violence. If you think that that's the only way to solve problems like that…."

"I don't," Shirou argued, and then turned meek when Kiritsugu glanced at him with a reprimanding frown, adding, "I just…wanted to stop it…from going on…." He bowed his head and gave a small gasp.

Before Kiritsugu knew it, the boy started crying openly, even as he fought tooth and nail to hold back his tears.

"I was just trying to be…like you…" he whimpered.

Kiritsugu heaved another sigh, suddenly feeling very tired, not just over the situation itself, but a general draining of his strength, as though dealing with simple matters like this was getting to be too much for him. And then he looked at the crying Shirou and couldn't help working up a reassuring smile, and he laid a comforting hand on the boy's head.

"Shirou…."

Shirou lifted his tearful eyes up to him, sniffling, and slowly he reflected his adoptive father's smile when he saw that everything might still be okay between them.

"Promise me this won't happen again," Kiritsugu asked of him. "You can stand up for those who are weaker. I admire that in you, you know. But…be more conscientious. Please. If you keep going this way, you'll only make serious trouble for yourself, and that won't help anyone."

Shirou stared up at him a moment, his lachrymal, golden-brown eyes glittering as though they contained pure starlight. Or maybe it was just the sun. And then he swallowed hard and nodded.

"Okay. I promise…jii-san."

And when they got home, Taiga was there, eager to have a sparring match, and Shirou was already forgetting his anger and his troubles as he came at her with his shinai in the dojo. Kiritsugu watched them both, changed into his black kimono, enjoying a rare moment of happiness that even after all this time, these two particular people that he cared about…were still in his life. They hadn't left him, he hadn't been forced to lose them.

But just as his thoughts drifted inevitably to his longed-for daughter, to his precious Ilya, grown so far from him that the hope he had for her was all but spent, a sputtering candle of light—his daughter whom he had nearly destroyed himself by now trying to save (talk about giving his son rather hypocritical advice), Taiga got the drop on Shirou, as per usual, and knocked him flat.

Shirou, annoyed but not angry, propped himself up on his elbow, demanding a rematch as Taiga cried, "And the Tiger of Fuyuki is once more victorious! Bow before my awesome, mad skills!"

At this, Kiritsugu couldn't help the pure and quiet giggle that bubbled out of him as Shirou shook his little fist at his "big sister Fuji".

Later that night, once Shirou had helped with the cleanup, he hunkered down at the table again and reached for a sweetie out of the woven bowl of treats wrapped in pretty, colorful paper in the middle, while at the same time reaching for the TV remote. He had very recently gotten into the exercise known as "channel surfing", and it seemed that for the most part he could never pick one show in particular to watch.

Actually, despite his youth, he usually ended up settling on one newscast or another, which Kiritsugu found a little worrisome, but that was only because he had the natural instinct of a parent to protect his son from the horrors of reality beyond the comfort of their home. It was no different than when Kiritsugu and Irisviel had tried their best to hide the whole truth of why their daughter had been born from her, and as he sat with Shirou, he again thought melancholically of his poor child stuck in Einzbern Castle, knowing nothing but hate for her father, grief for her mother, and who knew how she was comprehending her being groomed for a Fifth War, seeing as how he'd failed even in the simple task of destroying a cup. But then…he supposed it made sense…if it had only been the Lesser Grail that had been taken out by Saber's Excalibur….

He was worrying on this particular thought when Shirou's reaction to something on tonight's news report pulled him from his reverie.

"I don't understand what they're talking about…I just know it's too sad that they're killing each other," Shirou observed with a sagacity and perception rather beyond his years.

But then, that was understandable. For Shirou himself now knew what it was to be trapped in Hell, staggering through it and choking on smoke, near death and without hope, like the people dying left and right on that screen did. He had experienced that for the first time in that terrible fire, and though he had survived, that scar would never leave his heart and mind entirely. Kiritsugu could sadly see that by now. He bit his lip as it threatened to tremble, and as he watched Shirou, he recalled that first time he himself walked through Hell…that night when Arimago Island was up in flames, swarming with all the villagers dead and turned to ghouls…and Shirley…

…and suddenly he very vividly remembered how he'd crouched behind a door in the church, hiding from those ghouls...sobbing in his fear and grief, shaking and thinking that that night…he would die before his life had even begun….

He hadn't forgotten that, to a point…but still…he'd forgotten that shining feeling to have been shown mercy…for even when Natalia had burst through that fence and saved him from death…and fixed him with such a cold look as she held her gun and he'd cried out in fear of it, holding up his hands and praying she wouldn't shoot him…even so…he had known salvation in her that night. Despite everything, she had taken him in…and in the end….

But though Shirou, while watching this newest report that in its way wasn't really new at all, was pensive and solemn, he seemed to be thinking hard about something, or perhaps…trying to ingrain all of this in his mind, so that he wouldn't forget….

And then he turned to Kiritsugu and asked, "You know, jii-san, I still can't believe that at least with magic…all of those people might have a chance…."

Yet when he said this, it all became too much for Kiritsugu. Part of it was because he already knew better than most that magic had done little for how much he had wanted to save people like those poor helpless souls on that screen, and part of it too was that even on a smaller scale, his magic had done nothing but cause him grief, abandoning him when now all he wanted to do was save his beloved daughter…he couldn't even do that….

Unable to bear it, he stood and left the room, escaping for air on the garden porch. However, expectedly, Shirou wasn't far behind in following him.

"Jii-san…jii-san…I'm…I'm sorry…" Shirou muttered, carefully and cautiously approaching as Kiritsugu sat on the edge of the porch, looking forlornly up at the moon.

Without turning to him, Kiritsugu knew Shirou was fidgeting with the sash of his kimono as he spoke. He tried to offer the boy a smile, but his sadness was threatening to swallow him up from within as it hadn't in a very long time. "It's all right…Shirou…."

Even so, Shirou plowed on with his theory, with that same indomitable spirit that Irisviel and Ilya had had, that Saber had had…that Kiritsugu wished he'd had….

"But…you were able to use your magic to save me…I just can't believe that with the right…kind…of magic…somebody could…."

He'd barely got the words out though when Kirtsugu was already cutting across him again, dropping his smile and lowering his eyes to the ground, the weight of his sorrow pressing further upon him, his heart aching sharply again for his wife and daughter, for the people he had been unable to save in that fire, and he spoke from the sadness born from all of that.

"Shirou…saving one person means…being unable to save another...in the end…it isn't possible to save everyone…only those who are on your side…they can only be saved…if you abandon those you fight against…."

Shirou gave a little growl. "Like Matsushita?" He looked at his little fists. "Because I had to hurt him…to save Koizumi?"

"Yes."

"That…when you put it like that…it isn't fair…."

Kiritsugu gave a mirthless laugh. "That's an understatement…that life is unfair…." Unable to avoid it, his voice cracked on the word, "unfair".

"Jii-san…."

Even as he could sense the boy glaring through a threat of tears, there was nothing more he could say that could comfort him. He knew the truth of things now.

There was the pitter-patter of small feet on wood as Shirou turned back into the house, as if trying to run away from Kiritsugu's words.

With an effort, Kiritsugu looked up at the moon again, and just when he thought he would utterly break, a sharp pain rose up from within him, like someone had taken a hold of his heart and dug knives into it. He held back the cry of pain that threatened to burst out of him, even as he succumbed to sliding off the edge of the porch and onto his knees as he clutched his painfully throbbing chest, breaking out into a clammy sweat, panting as he struggled through what he already knew was full-on attacking his body.

Angra Mainyu…damn it….

And then the pain passed, and Kiritsugu gulped air in relief. Even so, he looked up at the moon again, and its light reminded him so much of Irisviel that he thought that pain would come back again. Its beauty and the memory of hers hurt him so much in this moment, when he began to think….

Iri…I think…I'm…running out of time….

And then the pain came back again, and Kiritsugu doubled over, clutching his chest and panting again.

Ilya…Shirou…I can't….

His free hand curled into a fist in the dirt, as he waited out the second bout of pain, thinking he would vomit from it when it passed, same as he did those times he kept trying to break through the Einzbern Barrier….

And then he suddenly laughed mirthlessly again, covering his face with his hand, remembering how when he'd been a child, death had once been such a faraway concept for him. Then his life had been filled with practically nothing but death…and now…now he was dying….

"You are a withering plant…Kiritsugu Emiya…."

That was what Elke had whispered into his ear.

He looked up at the moon again, finding it himself to sit back up on his knees, catching his breath again.

No…I'll hold out…for as long as I can…Iri…remember…I asked you…to wait for me….

And in the soft, silver light of the moon, outshined only by the beauty of his wife's hair, he suddenly thought he could recall the feel of that hair when he'd thread it between his fingers, when he'd stroke it back behind her ear.

Iri….

And then he found himself smiling as he looked up at that moon again, with half a mind to crawl across the lawn as if that might carry him up to it, back to his wife. For suddenly, he began to believe more than ever…that maybe…just maybe…he'd be able to find her again…when his own end finally came.

In the darkness of Kiritsugu's dreams that night, he watched as Shirou lifted the gun he had used to kill his father, Norikata, in his small hands.

And then the gun was in Kiritsugu's hands, and he was once more that boy, raising that barrel to his father's chest as Norikata stared at him in pleading shock.

You did this…to Shirley…to everyone…I have to stop you…before you do it again….

But then the gun was no longer in his hands, but now in Ilya's, and Kiritsugu was standing in his father's place.

"Ilya…" Kiritsugu gasped.

And Ilya looked up at him with pure anger and hatred, her tiny hands shaking as she struggled to hold up a gun that was far too big for her. She was looking at him the same way that the Grail posing as Irisviel had looked at him as he'd choked the life out of her.

"Kiritsugu…you left me…you abandoned me…you promised you'd come back…and instead you abandoned me…."

The strain in her voice reflected her effort to hold back her tears as she aimed the weapon at her father's heart.

But Kiritsugu felt no fear. He felt only sorrow, and a calm….

He smiled, that same smile he knew he'd smiled for her when he told her goodbye after their last time playing the walnut game. "I understand, Ilya. It's all right."

Unlike his own father, he understood how he had wronged his child, how he had betrayed her.

He offered no resistance, and went on smiling with great affection for his daughter as the tears fell from her eyes, her tiny hands still shaking as she held the gun as if hanging onto it for dear life.

"This is all I have left…if I kill you…" Ilya croaked, her once sweet red eyes so full of hate and grief.

"Go on," Kiritsugu encouraged her, the same way he had encouraged her when she'd been learning to walk, when he'd taught her how to ice-skate. "It's okay. Do what you must. Daddy understands. I broke a promise to you…I'm prepared…to accept my punishment from you…Ilya…."

Ilya's expression turned more grief-stricken as the hate melted away from it, hearing him say such things. "Daddy…." But then she mustered her nerves, and squeezed the trigger.

Yet when they were left in the ringing silence, no wound appeared on Kiritsugu's chest, there was no blood. He wasn't even knocked off his feet. Then he looked at Ilya, and entirely forgot to breathe.

The little dress—the last one—that Kiritsugu had bought for her to match the one that Irisviel had worn as street clothes to Fuyuki…was soaked in blood, her tiny chest heaving as the gun fell from her slackened grip, and she stared in disbelief at having somehow shot herself instead of him. And just like in those nightmares he'd have of her getting run through with a sword, or her heart ripped out of her, she glanced up at her father with eyes that pleaded with him, that were full of nothing but a despair that no child should ever have to know.

"Ilya…!" Kiritsugu's cry came out hoarse and rough, and he fell to his knees and caught Ilya in his arms as she collapsed, clutching her bleeding chest. He held her close, thinking she had suddenly become so much tinier than she'd been a moment ago, and as the tears fell he could only think mournfully of when he had first held her as a newborn baby, and now….

Ilya coughed, and there appeared a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. And then somehow she smiled up at her father as he held her, like she'd been relieved, like she'd been freed. "I'm sorry…Daddy…" she rasped. "But it's okay now…all I really wanted…was to have this again…." She made a small sound of contentment. "I missed you…I missed you scooping me up in your arms like this…." She gave a harsh cough and more blood came up, and Kiritsugu vividly felt her blood soak through his clothes as he clutched her to him.

"No, no, sweet, don't try to talk," Kiritsugu told her, speaking to her in the same soft voice he'd used so many times when she'd been hurt or had a fever. "Just lay quiet and everything will be okay…."

But Ilya shook her head, still smiling…smiling like her mother had when she'd been facing the edge of her own death. "You don't have to try so hard anymore…Daddy…there's nothing left for me but this…but at least…I could see you again…one last time…."

"No…Ilya…I'm so sorry…please…Daddy loves you…Daddy will always love you…."

"Hm…yes…and Ilya…loves Daddy…."

As Ilya peacefully closed her eyes and breathed her last, Kiritsugu broke entirely, beyond any kind of breakage he'd suffered before, pressing his daughter's body as close and tight to him as he could as he let sob after sob tear out of him, sobs that turned into utter keening wails that echoed in his ears, until he was drowning in the sound of his own grief and despair at his own powerlessness to save and protect the first and only child he and Irisviel had had together—

Awaking in the dark with a gasp, Kiritsugu felt again that stab of pain with every breath he took, the events of his nightmare having been terrible past words to describe them. He felt the cold tears, and he desperately wiped them away, even as he wept Ilya's name and lamented her fate, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

"No…not that…anything but that…" he begged, even as the silence of the walls told him that no one at all was listening to his last desperate prayer.

Kiritsugu might as well have met his death on that frozen mountain. Because he was finally forced to recognize in his heart what his logical mind was already trying to accept...that he could not save his daughter.

This time, he had climbed this mountain, only to get completely lost, beyond not even being able to find the start of the Einzberns' barrier anymore. More than that though, but his increasingly failing eyesight, and his stiffening limbs, combined with how lackluster and useless his Magic Circuits had become, barely capable of the simplest magic, apart from the medicine he still had to make for Shirou, all worked against him as much as Elke and the Einzberns had. In fact, even if he was shuffling like a lame dog on the edge of the cold, snowy mountain without a clue as to where Einzbern Castle was, he could still feel as though Jubstacheit and Elke were probably watching him with mild, icy satisfaction.

And Ilya...

Kiritsugu collapsed to his knees, letting out one heaving sob after another, shivering violently, hugging himself against the sharp, bitter wind.

"I didn't...want this...my daughter...my child...why...?"

He was beyond despair. He could only think how terribly fitting that nightmare had been, with Ilya dying in his arms. She would be sacrificed, like her mother had been, and at this point, even if he could, by some miracle, live long enough see the next War, even if he extracted her then, her death had been assured for roughly a year following the events of the War, because his not having brought back the Grail had sealed that fate for her.

It was pathetic, and far too sad for words. He was her father, and he couldn't protect her. She would suffer...so much...and he had fought...so hard...

Even with Shirou...what reason was there...to go on...? All of his and Irisviel's precious prayers for their daughter were rendered meaningless.

If Saber had been here, perhaps...but he had this sense that even if she brought down Excalibur, it would do nothing to break through that accursed castle...that accursed castle where he had found the joy of loving a woman...and she loving him back...of having a family who had grown more beloved to him with each passing day, to the point of a happy pain...as it all was taken away from him...just as he'd feared...taken away from all three of them...

We've all been separated, Iri...we're all alone...I'm so sorry...

The tears and cries came back, as he shook with chest-chokes.

"Saber...you fool..."

He didn't know why he thought of that. He only knew he was furious with Saber again, as furious as the night Lancer committed suicide. And he punched a nearby rock poking out of the snow. Punched it over and over, until his knuckles bled, punched it like he'd punched the ambulance he'd been driving when he realized he'd have to kill Natalia.

And then he sank to the ground, curling into himself, clutching his bleeding hand, howling with sobs that he was certain could never possibly stop, because such a yawning abyss of pain inside him would never disappear. Meanwhile he felt the curse of Angra Mainyu rise up from within and claw at his insides as though to tear him apart from the inside. But he couldn't even bear screaming over it, for that pain couldn't compare to the pain of losing his daughter.

"Forgive me...Ilya...please forgive me...Ilya...Iri...IRI...! Oh God...no..."

In a breath of weakness, he did indeed consider throwing it all away. He had given up so much for a higher cause and it had caused him nothing but suffering. He had only wanted the world to be happy and safe, why did such a dream have to be so foolish in the grand scheme of reality? Why did it have to come at a price beyond anything even someone like he could afford to pay?

His eyes grew heavy and they fell closed, and by then he was more than happy to submit his will to oblivion without resistance, enveloped in the cold that somehow became warm instead.

And then a soft, beautiful white light fell upon him, and he opened his eyes to find himself as he had the morning after he'd killed Malte von Einzbern, surrounded by hanging white curtains and curled up on the bed he and Irisviel had shared for almost nine years.

Then he heard the rustle of pages.

And there was Irisviel, on the side of the bed facing him this time, reading one of the many books she had enjoyed.

Kiritsugu's heart thudded...it was too good to be true...too good to bear it...

"Iri..." he croaked.

Irisviel looked up, and she smiled, a smile full of love and sadness for him, as she laid the book aside and leaned forward, reaching for him.

"Oh Kiritsugu..."

He managed to reach up his own hand, and grasped hold of hers, wanting this to be real, wanting to believe in that softness of her skin he realized he still remembered. It had only been a little over three years, but it felt like thirty.

Before he could stop, tears sprang to his eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

Irisviel shook her head. "My love...there's a son still waiting for you..."

"But Ilya..." A sob escaped him. "We should've run away...when we had the chance..." Desperately he appealed to his wife. "We could've done it. We could've hidden away, and I'd have taken care of you and Ilya..."

But just as when he'd suggested it before, Irisviel again told him that not in a million years, not in any universe, could he have lived with that decision.

"And that's all right," Irisviel was telling him now, smiling through tears of her own. "That's who you are. You've remained true to yourself, right to the very end. How can I be angry with you for that, when that's part of why I fell in love with you in the first place?"

"But our daughter..." Kiritsugu whimpered. "Our precious baby girl...she'll be..."

Irisviel's smile fell away, as she withdrew into her maternal feelings in all of this. "Ilya...yes...she'll be...taken by the Grail…." A sob of her own escaped her, and she drew that back of her free hand across her face, giving several sharp gasps, as though she were being knifed in the chest—for Kiritsugu the sense was mutual. "It more than breaks my heart...but...she'll be free...in the end...I know it...because...I am…when you destroyed the Lesser Grail…remember? So you and I...we can see her again...together..."

Kiritsugu gaped at her, tears still rolling thick down his cheeks. "Iri...what do you...?"

"But for now, you must endure." Irisviel's smile turned utterly affectionate, as though now there were so many things for her to love all at once. "For little Shirou." She leaned over, and Kiritsugu stopped breathing altogether as he felt her soft lips brush his rough cheek. "You know, he reminds me a little of you."

"Iri...you mean you can—?"

But before he could finish, Irisviel's spirit broke apart into rays of pure light and was gone. And the next breath Kiritsugu sucked in was deathly cold, followed by one that was warm, gentle, and healing. Again he awoke, and again he awoke surrounded by white—only this time it was in another bed of another sterile hospital room. Even so, Kiritsugu's mind reeled at the implications of the visions he had just had.

The German nurse who came in and told him how close he'd come to dying of hypothermia was naturally brusque about it, and Kiritsugu profusely apologized for having been "such an inconvenience". Actually, despite his having this feeling like he was suffering a massive hangover, this was the first time in a very long time where he was actually relieved to still be alive. Burying his face in his hand, he mustered a laugh that he could tell without looking gave the German nurse the impression that he had quite possibly gone mad.

Once he got himself rested properly and better oriented, he was released from the hospital, and from there, he rendez-voused with his German contact, Randolph Eckstein (who, according to his background, was very distantly related to the esteemed Edelfeldt family, but though was aware of the existence of magecraft, did not inherit any abilities to perform it himself). From him, Kiritsugu learned that he had in fact been laid up in the hospital for so long he'd missed his scheduled return flight to Japan.

"A Fujimura woman called several times...sounded like she was ready to tear over here...I ran out of things to tell her..." Eckstein knocked back another tumbler of whiskey.

Kiritsugu shook his head. Oh Taiga-chan. "I'll call her."

"Please do."

After Kiritsugu had suffered Taiga's hailstorm of threats and shouts over the phone, with a final sigh and admission that she was glad he was okay and on his way home, he asked permission of Eckstein if he might build a small bonfire of sorts behind his house secluded in the woods on the edge of the village close to the Einzbern mountain. Eckstein shrugged his shoulders by way of granting that permission, digging out a cigar, as if he already knew what Kiritsugu was going to do.

He offered a cigar to Kiritsugu.

Kiritsugu shook his head. "I've quit smoking. I told you that. And anyway, cigars never would've been my style."

Eckstein shrugged again. "Suit yourself." He lit up his own cigar and took a pull on it, looking out of the window in the direction of the Einzbern mountain, free hand deep in the pocket of his smoking jacket. "That cursed mountain. Einzberns. What a pack of idiots."

"Indeed," Kiritsugu agreed, and to himself, added, Save for one. And she wasn't even human. Actually, she was more human than any of the rest were….

Outside, Kiritsugu had all of his weapons gathered out from the storage trunk where Eckstein had been keeping them—all such that the Einzberns' wealth had purchased, and older ones from his days as an assassin financing his own arsenal. The Contender was the last thing he threw on the pile, before he tossed on the gas and lit the match.

As he watched the old tools of his old trade burn away, no longer needing them as his efforts to rescue Ilya were now null and void, he observed the sparks of the fire rise up to join the stars of the night sky above, and he was reminded of the sparks of hopeful light that had risen up like stardust as Saber had powered up Excalibur before obliviating Caster's monster with it. He thought back again to that moment when he'd paused on the riverbank to watch her, feeling again like that boy captivated by the concept of "hero", of having the power to bring people happiness, to shield them from suffering, to save them.

Irisviel had been right. He was the sort of person who felt too much. He probably felt more love, and insanely so, for humans than most, and seeing them suffer would never be something he would be able to bear. In the end, he was far too compassionate, to the point that he was willing to sacrifice his soul if need be to make a simple dream come true.

He had also dreamed too big, of course.

But perhaps with Shirou, his heart could find peace in a simpler existence. Maybe he could've gone further, but as his attacks of pain, his worsening eyesight, and the constant stiffening of his limbs and diminishing power of his Magic Circuits told him, there wasn't much more that he, Kiritsugu Emiya, could do.

Even so, he was vowing to do what he could, limited as he'd become. After all, he knew no other way.

When he finally got back to Fuyuki, his flight arrived in the dead of night, and it was all dark and quiet at the Emiya house, save for the light on in the main room where Taiga was eating away her anxiety through a package of cookies, her schoolwork abandoned in favor of mindlessly watching TV to distract her from everything. Kiritsugu, for his part, could feel his limbs already stiffening and screaming in protest from his travels and heaving his one piece of carry-on back into the house, but he knew he was in for another beating of sorts, so he prepared himself.

He dropped his bag in the door, managing a smile and trying not to let his overwhelming exhaustion show, thinking in the back of his mind that at this rate, he was going to need a cane soon to get around.

"Hello there, Taiga-chan…."

Taiga, having turned wide eyes to him, a cookie lodged halfway into her mouth, furiously inhaled the rest of it, chewing it with a kind of frenzy, as she got to her feet with a kind of growl and raised a hand to him.

Kiritsugu let it fall, and he could tell how she really felt with how hard she struck his chest with a kind of karate chop.

"Finally, you drag yourself back here, idiot," she growled, hitting him again, as her glaring eyes shined with oncoming tears. "You know, you're a real jerk, Kiritsugu-san. Shirou was…and I was…I mean…you could've been dead or worse for all we knew…." She sniffed, but it was an angry sniff, and then she hit him again.

Though Kiritsugu did his best to flinch at her blows, it was hard. She was very good. "I suppose saying sorry wouldn't—"

"Just shut up!" Taiga snapped, letting out a kind of sharp sob. And then, as if she'd been holding it back this whole time, she threw her arms around Kiritsugu and hugged him close, burying her face in his collared shirt.

Kiritsugu impulsively blushed, a physical reaction to her closeness, but at the same time, all he could think was how much he missed his wife's embrace. Even so, his soft, affectionate smile was for Taiga, and he petted her hair, smoothing it back with a kind of avuncular affection, though he knew Taiga might want to see it as something more, distraught as she was.

"I'm sorry…Taiga-chan…."

Taiga shook her head, doing her best to reel back her tears as she hugged him even tighter. "Have you woken up, yet? We're right here, Kiritsugu-san! Shirou and Grandfather…and me…."

Kiritsugu chuckled, a little amused that Taiga was saying so much that he needed to hear, without being privy to the details of his struggles. Like Irisviel was channeling her spirit through the girl or something, which given the vision he'd had of her when he'd nearly died in the snow, might not have been entirely implausible.

And though now he could definitively say that there would be no more trips abroad for him, given the pattern of his gradually deteriorating physical condition, he did feel bad about it only because he wouldn't be able to fulfill Taiga's wish of him at least bringing her along with him once, as, again, she hadn't known what his trips abroad had really been about.

"I think it's safe to say that I won't be traveling like this again," he told her, and Taiga lifted her face to look up at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Though…I'm just sad I couldn't have taken you with me…but…I don't think…I'll be up for traveling like that anymore…." Kiritsugu averted his eyes sadly.

Taiga peered at him, before she wiped away her tears at last and waved it away, as though she had seen the truth of what he himself had realized, but still tried to be happy for him in the face of it.

"That's okay, don't worry about it! As long as you won't go away again…."

Kiritsugu sighed, not sure whether to be relieved or not. He placed his palm fondly on Taiga's head. "Thank you, though…for everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Taiga stared at him, and the color rose in her cheeks until she playfully knocked his hand away. "Don't look at me like that. It makes me so nervous…."

Kiritsugu laughed again, even if he was still feeling a bit sad for her. "Is Shirou asleep?"

"Yeah, finally." Taiga sighed herself and bent to start cleaning up before grabbing her bag and heading out. "But I don't think he'd mind if you woke him."

"No, I don't think so at all." Kiritsugu left the room and sought out Shirou asleep in his own room, knowing Taiga would wait for him to walk her to the gate of the house. Knocking softly, he really wasn't surprised at how quickly Shirou's little voice called out, "Jii-san?" as though that was the hope he'd been living on for himself all this time.

And it was, really.

Kiritsugu slid open the door. "Hello there, Shirou."

Shirou sat up in his futon, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he took in the vision of his adoptive father finally coming home at last, after hours upon hours that had probably crawled painfully by, where he'd probably cried, and Taiga had done her best to console him, assure him that Kiritsugu would surely be back.

"Hello…jii-san," he croaked in the dark.

Kiritsugu suddenly felt even more exhausted, but he smiled for Shirou's sake. "I'm back. For good now. I won't…go away again. Okay?"

Shirou blinked at him in the dark, and then said, "Okay."

"We can talk more in the morning. For now, get some sleep."

"Okay."

Kiritsugu started to slide the door closed, when Shirou's voice piped up again as he laid back down in his futon: "Um…I'm glad you're back…jii-san…."

"Hm. Me too…Shirou."

When Kiritsugu awoke later at dawn however, the pain came back, and he had to bite his thumb to keep from crying out, curling into himself. By the time it passed, he felt so drained already, and the day hadn't even begun. And the stiffness of his limbs didn't help matters.

So it was that he heard Shirou actually get up before he did, because he hadn't yet managed to get up himself. Normally, he always rose much earlier than Shirou…after all, to pay his respects and tend to Irisviel's irises, the only thing he had that could serve as a kind of shrine to his wife.

This time though…he couldn't muster it in himself to get up…after all the encouragement he'd been getting to learn to overcome his weaknesses and truly be stronger….

"Jii-san?"

Shirou was calling for him. Kiritsugu could hear his voice carry throughout the big house, could hear it growing more and more anxious as he undoubtedly began to expect the worst.

"Jii-san!"

Now he was outright panicked, and coming in close proximity to Kiritsugu's room. Kiritsugu could no longer fight it. He couldn't let on that anything was wrong…suffer in silence….

"Shirou! I'm here…!" Kiritsugu called, trying not to sound pained as he tried to prop himself up on his elbow.

But Shirou had already thrown open the sliding paper door, no doubt having the need to see for himself that Kiritsugu was still alive and well. Or that he hadn't left again.

"Jii-san…." Shirou padded over to him, but with caution, kneeling down beside him in his kimono, looking rather helplessly on as Kiritsugu was clearly struggling with just propping himself up.

Catching his breath, Kiritsugu swallowed and said, working up a smile, "It's okay, Shirou. I don't think…I feel quite myself…at the moment. But it's nothing to worry about…."

Shirou bit his lip, clearly not convinced.

Kiritsugu could have kicked himself for his own foolishness, but it wouldn't have been the first time. After all, how could he have expected Shirou not to notice the subtle beginnings of the decay of his strength? Ilya certainly hadn't failed to pick up on his sadness when he'd tried to hide it from her.

"Jii-san...isn't there…anything I can do?"

Kiritsugu couldn't really think of a suitable reply, so he mustered a weak chuckle instead, in the hopes that at least putting the boy at ease.

But Shirou wrung his hands together, and in his face Kiritsugu could see that he was highly suspicious of the possibility that the only parent he had left wouldn't be with him for very much longer.

"Shirou…."

Shirou lowered his eyes to his hands, looking oddly ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry…jii-san."

Kiritsugu frowned. "What do you have to be sorry for?" he asked, struggling to keep the weakness out of his voice, even so.

"I can never do anything for you…and you've done so much for me…." Shirou's hands shook.

"Shirou…there's nothing you need do for me," Kiritsugu told him truthfully, sensing the frustration in the boy's voice.

"But I want to! After all, you seem so tired and sad…especially now…." Shirou wrung his hands faster.

Kiritsugu caught his breath, as Shirou's words again echoed something Irisviel had once observed in him. As he thought this, he had again that strange feeling of Irisviel being with him.

After all, she had tried to tell him that she would always be a part of him….

He looked up at Shirou, and more of the weight of his grief caused by the loss of Ilya lifted from his tired, heavy heart. And quite suddenly, some of his old strength came flooding back.

No…I won't be lying down and dying like this anytime soon. With another effort, he at last managed to push himself up into a sitting position, the blankets sliding off of him.

"Jii-san?" Shirou sounded both apprehensive and in awe.

"It's all right, Shirou." Kiritsugu was able to smile for the boy, and he gripped him by the shoulder, giving it a sincere, reassuring squeeze. "You do more for me than you could ever know. Believe me…when I say that."

And, driven by a mixture of how much he grieved his daughter and his wife with his affection for the boy, seized by the impulsive nature that taken root in and bloomed beautifully in his wife, Kiritsugu pulled Shirou to him, wrapping his arms around him like he did when he told Ilya goodbye in the snow.

"Jii-san," Shirou mumbled into his kimono, but Kiritsugu thought that for now, he heard an actual smile in the boy's voice, as well as the croak of tears. And then he put his little arms around Kiritsugu and returned the embrace tightly. "Jii-san…."

The Japanese bush warbler was singing in full voice then, its hypnotically lilting song, and Kiritsugu looked up, looked towards the sunlight filtering in through the window and the paper walls. And for the first time, since the end of the Grail War, Kiritsugu truly felt a peace inside of him, one that was actually unwavering.

I think I understand now, he thought, as he held the quivering Shirou to him, rubbing his back, letting him know that he wasn't alone and he could cry all he wanted. I think I understand now, Iri…what it really means, to truly be stronger.