Epilogue

Even after Shirou made it a habit to better choose his battles, there were still days now and then that he would come home covered in wounds from having interfered in some fight. And Kiritsugu, though he'd lost a lot of his strength by now, had to hobble when he'd walk, had Magic Circuits that were utterly useless, and had to squint a lot to see most things anymore, he could still do the basic task of patching his son up with the First Aid Kit.

And Taiga, as usual, made her criticisms, but it was out of a mutual feeling she and Kiritsugu shared.

"What're you going to do when you have to manage all of this patching up on your own?" Taiga admonished over the tea Kiritsugu had made for the three of them as he snipped the last strip of gauze over the cuts on Shirou's left arm.

"You mean you would never patch me up, Fuji-nee?" Shirou teased. Now at age ten, he was showing the first hints of a dry, pre-teen sense of humor.

Taiga pouted. "Of course I would, don't be ridiculous. I'm just saying—"

"Don't worry about it, I can learn to patch myself up, easy," said Shirou, trying to sound casual but in the end coming off as a little grave for a ten-year old.

Kiritsugu watched as his son gauged the muscles in his upper arm and shook his head. "The idea is to avoid not having to get patched up in the first place, Shirou."

Shirou frowned. "I know, jii-san. I mean…I didn't throw a single punch. All I did was make sure Koizumi wasn't harmed."

"Ah well. I guess it can't be helped." Kiritsugu couldn't help a smile then and ruffled his son's hair, which in turn made Shirou return the grin, if a little gruffly.

Shirou ran his good arm underneath his nose, sniffing, and then said, "Okay. Well, I guess I'll go study."

"Pay particular attention to that English exercise!" Taiga called after him with a devious smile.

"Okay, okay!" Shirou called back, sounding as annoyed as ever.

Taiga sighed. "I think he's going to ignore that homework, just because he knows it'd bug me."

"Maybe he's not as big a fan of the English language as you are," Kiritsugu suggested as he packed up the First Aid Kit.

Taiga sipped the last of her tea. "Ah well, I suppose I can't fault him for that."

As it was, Shirou was a pretty fast healer and was able to take off his bandages the following morning, but Kiritsugu had a feeling that the fact that Avalon was still within his body had something to do with it. Actually, he was rather surprised that the ancient scabbard had maintained itself as it had for this long. As he considered this sometime in the evening that same day, he thought melancholically of Saber for a moment, and it took Taiga noticing the look on his face to break him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"Ah, you've been so spacey lately!" Taiga admonished, snapping her chopsticks like a pair of pincers.

"Sorry," Kiritsugu apologized.

He caught Shirou looking at him sidelong, and Shirou, meeting his gaze, quickly turned his attention back to the bowl of rice and vegetables with tofu they were having with dinner that night.

Kiritsugu considered his own hardly-touched meal, and realized he wasn't very hungry. That had been happening a lot lately, even though he was also getting more and more tired with each passing night.

He set his bowl and chopsticks aside and excused himself from the table.

"Kiritsugu-san, are you all right?" Taiga asked as he slowly got up onto his feet with those stiff legs of his.

Kiritsugu looked between her and Shirou's concerned expressions and worked up a smile for them. "It's fine. I just need some air."

He'd been saying that a lot lately too.

Outside in the moonlit garden, he went to see Irisviel's irises, and he had that sense of licking at old wounds that wouldn't entirely heal again. Even so, there was also much tender love there too.

"It's been five years, Iri," he murmured, cupping one iris petal delicately with the tip of his finger. "I've missed you so much all this time…wanted to say so many things to you…apologize for so many things…regretted so many things…and Ilya…." He swallowed. "But it's as I said, Iri…I've never stopped loving you, not once…after all, I told you I always would, didn't I?" He sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the back of his other hand.

"Nyan…."

Kiritsugu gave a small gasp and looked up, surprised to find that of all things, a stray black cat had wandered into the Emiya compound's garden, slinking out from behind the flowering tree. The feline arched her back—for some reason Kiritsugu felt it was female—and then stretched, her rear lifting into the air, her tail forming a question mark shape, before she straightened and sat back on her haunches, whereupon she blinked up at Kiritsugu, and Kiritsugu was momentarily reminded of the way Maiya would consider him with that same indifferent expression, and for some reason, this coaxed an amused chuckle out of him.

"Ah, what do we have here? An unexpected guest?" Kiritsugu reached over and offered his hand for the cat to sniff.

The cat did so, and then recoiled with a kind of pinched expression, like she was offended that there was no food in Kiritsugu's hand. With that, she turned tail rather haughtily and sauntered away, melting into the shadows.

Kiritsugu chuckled again, and then he heard Taiga's voice softly call his name from the porch. Slowly he managed to get back onto his feet and greeted her with a smile.

Not caring that she was without shoes or socks, Taiga stepped off of the porch and joined him beside the flowering tree, on the edge of wilting with winter coming.

"Do you feel better?" Taiga asked him, trying not to sound more concerned than she probably actually was, with her hands clasped behind her back (hands she was probably secretly fidgeting with).

"A little," said Kiritsugu. "Where's Shirou?"

"Taking his bath. We've cleaned everything up already."

The late autumn breeze lifted the grass and the trees and the petals on the irises. Kiritsugu felt his aching heart rise with it.

"You love these irises, don't you?" said Taiga as she crouched down to sniff them. "There always so lovely, and you always take such good care of them."

Even if his heart was with Irsviel, the smile Kiritsugu gave Taiga now was for her. "It's taken you that long to notice?"

"Well, we're talking years of dedication at this point," Taiga pointed out. "Only then could I possibly take notice." She reflected his smile as she met his gaze.

Kiritsugu considered her a moment, and then he began to feel something press upon him from within, something that made him think of the documents he'd had prepared earlier that morning when no one else had been in the house, documents locked up in the drawer of the little writing desk in the spare bedroom, which contained a Western style bed. Another room he'd wanted to prepare for Ilya's use to be her own, but now might as well be a guest bedroom.

Maybe it was because he knew with the approaching end of autumn, these iris blossoms would soon wither as they always did with the frost of winter, with the snow as white as Irisviel's and Ilya's silver hair had been.

"Taiga-chan, could we speak seriously for a moment?"

Though Taiga lost a little of her smile at the solemnity of his words, she nodded and stood again. "Of course. What is it?"

"There are…other things you've probably noticed, much as I've tried to keep them hidden," he began. "But…well…to make a long story very, very short…it may be that…I won't…be…well…." He cleared his throat and started over, trying to lighten things back up. "You are…the only other family Shirou has…and…I won't always be here…I mean…one day, like everyone else, I'll…."

But then, Taiga reached for his hand, and only then did he realize as she held it in hers that it was trembling.

"I think I know what you're getting at, so I won't make you say it," she said, and there was a definite tremor to her voice that she was trying to hide. "I'm sensing that after that, though, there's something you want to ask me."

Kiritsugu felt a little calmer at her touch, and found it in himself to press on. "When the day comes that I'm no longer here…you'll take care of Shirou for me, won't you? You'll do your best to look after him? Make sure he's okay?"

Taiga's eyes were overbright, but she didn't cry. Even so, it was clear she was smiling through a sparkle of tears as she gave Kiritsugu's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Of course I will, Kiritsugu-san. I'll do whatever it takes…to make sure he lives a safe and happy life. After all, he's a one-of-a-kind little brother."

"Ah, you're more than right about that, Taiga-chan." And out of sincere gratitude to her, Kiritsugu drew close and wrapped his arms around Taiga, pulling her into a fierce embrace, a sum of all of the platonic affection he felt for her.

Taiga trembled for just a moment before she returned his embrace, letting out a sigh of something like relief or contentment or both. "You don't have to worry about thing, Kiritsugu-san. I promise, I'll take care of him as best I can. Grandfather will too, you know."

"Indeed." Kiritsugu gave a watery laugh and withdrew. "And speaking of your grandfather, please offer him my apologies that I haven't been able to see him for a drink in a while."

"I think he'll forgive you," said Taiga, withdrawing as well.

"I suppose forgiveness is all I can ask for," said Kiritsugu, a little bittersweetly, perhaps, but he couldn't help but be happy too, to have this moment with Taiga.

And this time, he took her hand in both of his, closing it gently between his. "Thank you, Taiga-chan. For everything," he fervently offered to her.

"Ah, no thanks needed," Taiga said, waving it away, sounding very much like him.

Even as he could see that maybe she might have been hoping for more, at the same time, Kiritsugu thought she looked more adult than he had ever seen her before, and he knew without doubt that if anyone could be there for Shirou when he no longer could be, it was her.

Later that night, Kiritsugu had a bit of a troubled sleep, such that he hadn't had in many months.

At least, at first, it was troubled.

He was as he had been in his days as an assassin, cloaked in his long dark coat over his fine black suit and tie, hunting heretic mages, hugging his old Thompson Contender close to his chest as he trekked through bloody battlefields of death and despair and emptiness, battlefields that stretched for an eternity, with no glimmer of hope to be found. It was just as he had once told Saber, and his heart was breaking again for it, for all that he had lost in pursuit of a dream where a world like this was vanquished in a single stroke.

And then the crushing weight of this world grew so heavy upon his shoulders he could no longer push his way through the mire of human suffering. It was like when he could no longer push his way through the snow as Ilya had reminded him of Irisviel's fate, a fate that had been rendered so meaningless in the grand scheme of things, and then, saying goodbye to Ilya…for the last time….

Undone, Kiritsugu sank to his knees slowly and wept, letting the Contender fall from his hands. In the end, everything he had put into achieving his dream had been utterly useless. And here he would die without having accomplished anything, nothing more than a speck of dust to be swept away with eternity.

"Hey now, there's no need for that anymore," said a voice, rich and deep and calm.

Looking up, Kiritsugu found himself gazing into the kind face of a tall young man who possessed a flicker of familiarity about him. He had a shock of white hair, silvered eyes, and was garbed in a long red coat over black body armor, hefting a longbow in one hand and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder…but there was something about him…something in his face that Kiritsugu found familiar, and it could actually be any number of things that he was seeing when he thought about it.

The man offered him his free hand to help him to his feet. "There's no need for tears from you anymore. I can take care of things from here."

As if in a trance, Kiritsugu took that hand offered to him, and let that man lift him again to his feet. The two men looked at each other, and Kiritsugu managed to work up a reflective smile.

"Ah, thank you," Kiritsugu told him.

"Of course." The white-haired man inclined his head graciously.

As a light, like that of dawn, shined in brilliance behind this man, Kiritsugu was about to ask him who he was, when that light swallowed the man up. But even as it did, the man smiled, and when Kiritsugu opened his eyes to morning, he didn't feel quite as bad as he had of late.

Taiga didn't stop by that day. Even with the first breath of winter on the air, there was an abundance of exams that had to be seen to, and teachers were just as chained to their schoolwork as the students were. But given that Taiga was prone to procrastination, it was no surprise that she was "cramming it" at the last minute.

Shirou too was busy with his own schoolwork, and Kiritsugu sensed that the boy had a lot on his mind as it was. Kiritsugu felt for him. After all, he wanted his son to feel he could take a break from pressure now and then.

After Kiritsugu took his bath, Shirou went in, having finished with the clean-up from dinner, and even now, Kiritsugu felt bad that in some ways, due to his growing infirmities, it was more like Shirou was taking care of him than the other way around most days. But then, Shirou was growing up too.

"Are you still out here, jii-san?" Shirou's voice asked, finding Kiritsugu sitting out on the porch to admire the moon, which was particularly lovely in its fullness tonight.

"What do you mean 'still'?" Kiritsugu raised an eyebrow at his son. "This is the first you've seen me out here tonight."

"Yeah, but I took a long bath," Shirou said on the edge of stretching his back.

"Very well, Shirou, say what you wish." But his smile was affectionate just the same. "Why don't you come sit with me a bit? You've been so frazzled lately."

Shirou considered the moon a moment, and then his father. And the he too smiled. "Okay. It's been a while since we've just sat on the porch. And soon it'll be too cold."

Kiritsugu had long since noticed that by now, Shirou's feet touched the ground when he put his legs over the edge of the porch to sit down on the edge of it. Even so, he couldn't help thinking how strange it was, the way it marked the passage of time.

So much had happened. He had experienced so many things in his life, so many gut-wrenching things, so many euphoric things…really, despite the pain, it had been a rather remarkable life.

But what did he have left that he could leave behind? Of the many regrets—greatest of which was his poor, beloved Ilya, his being unable to save her—that he wrestled with in his heart, this took prominence alongside the fact that he would die without ever seeing or speaking to his first-born child again.

"Jii-san…with all of these exams and things…I've been thinking a lot…about what I want to be when I grow up," Kiritsugu heard Shirou say beside him as a wave of exhaustion overtook him. Though the pain of Angra Mainyu's curse still flared up within him now and then, really it was just the sense of being drained that he felt most keenly anymore.

Still, he gave Shirou an answer that proved he was paying attention. "Ah. Is that so?"

"Yeah." Shirou ground a toe into the grass.

"Hmmm. What are your thoughts, then?"

"Well…it's something I think only you'd understand, so I don't feel weird telling you."

"Oh?"

Genuinely he was interested, but another wave of exhaustion hit him, and he found himself closing his eyes as he sat there, each breath he breathed strangely weaker than the last.

Or maybe it wasn't so strange.

Shirou gave a sigh and then said in a kind of teasing tone, "Hey…jii-san…if you're so tired you're gonna fall asleep, go to bed."

"Huh?" Kiritsugu blinked open his eyes, and then laughed, if just as weakly as he was breathing. There he was, spacing out again, just like Taiga said. He managed a shaky deep breath and said, "Right. It's nothing. I'm fine," he lied. Blinking open his eyes a little wider, he said, "Ah…you know…when I was little…I really wanted…to be a hero."

Shirou's ears pricked up indeed at this, as they were still on the subject of what he wanted to be when he grew up. "What do you mean? You don't want to anymore? Did you just give up?"

"Yeah," Kiritsugu sighed, hiding his sorrowful memories behind a bitter smile. "Seems when you grow up…it's hard to call yourself one. I wish I had realized that sooner…."

"I see," said Shirou, a little sadly. "Well, I guess there's not much you can do about it."

"Yeah…I guess not…."

Sighing heavily again, Kiritsugu looked back up at the sky.

"Ah…what a beautiful moon it is tonight…."

And he was reminded of that night he and Irisviel had looked up at the moon out of the window of the bedroom they had shared for nine years in that otherwise gloomy old castle in the German mountains, how he had told her what he had been unable to tell Shirley, what he had just confessed to Shirou.

But then he saw that Shirou had something of a content, almost dreamy grin on his face, like he was about to unveil something wonderful to his father.

What he wanted to be when he grew up? Now Kiritsugu had to know, not just as the boy's adoptive father…but for himself too.

"All right," said Shirou. "Then I'll be a hero for you."

Kiritsugu blinked again, more awake now than he'd felt in a while. "Huh?"

"You're an adult now, so you can't do it anymore. But I still can." And Shirou turned that grin on his father, his golden-brown eyes shining like the sun. "Just leave it to me."

Kiritsugu stared at his son a moment, and his first instinct was to tell him more of what he'd already insinuated before, that he would be foolish to tread a path that Kiritsugu already knew for himself would lead to nothing but emptiness. But then, for a moment, he saw himself as in a mirror, saw himself as Shirley had seen him, as Irisviel and Ilya had seen him…as Shirou saw him.

That this boy's heart beat with strength and purity, such that Kiritsugu's had once done.

Was that it, then? Though he had fought many battles and come through them covered in scars and feeling nothing but pain for those he couldn't save, he had, in the end, saved this boy's life…and this boy…Shirou Emiya…would carry on what little he had managed to teach him in his stead…creating a dream that could never truly die…because the torch that bore its flame could always be passed on, hand to hand, always burning brightly, always shining in the eyes of those who looked on in wonder….

In the back of his mind, he could almost feel Saber, as if she could hear Shirou's words, as if she might lift up her head from her own sorrows and gain hope for herself at what this boy proclaimed he would become in his father's stead….

And there was that white-haired man from the dream he had had the night before….

Kiritsugu felt such paternal affection in this beautiful moment that it hurt, but again…in that way that reminded him that he was alive…at least…for a moment or two longer…as the memory of Shirley's question echoed in his ears….

"Tell me, Kerry: what kind of man do you want to grow up to be?"

And broken as he was, he had found love again after losing it so many times, and even when he had lost that love too, there was more love to be had in the people who had been in his life for the last five years.

A love sprung from winter.

"Just leave it to me," Shirou told him, smiling unashamedly. "I'll make your dream happen."

And just like that, everything lifted, and true peace settled in Kiritsugu's slowing heart at long last. He closed his eyes again, letting out another sigh, this one of the truest relief he had felt in a very long time indeed.

"Ah…I see. Very well…I can rest easy now…."

Shirou gave a rather surprised expression as Kiritsugu looked back up at the moon.

Iri….

Kiritsugu….

As Kiritsugu succumbed to the sense of falling asleep, a final breath left his body, and then he felt warm, soft arms wrap around his neck from above, and a soft cheek press against his rough one as a sweet, longed-for voice whispered in his ear, "There you are…my love…."

"Iri…."

Kiritsugu hardly dared believe it. Yet even as he opened his eyes, he felt himself lift up, and found himself wrapped in the gentle arms of his wife, looking up into her face, just as lovely as the day he had last seen her alive, telling her goodbye as she smiled bravely for him, lying on that cold, stone, storehouse floor. Her bright red eyes full of tears of joy and sorrow both…

…joy to see him here again…sorrow for the daughter they had been unable to save…yet even now hoped that perhaps with what Kiritsugu had managed, there was still a slim chance…it was just as it had been in the dream that Kiritsugu had had lying in the snow trying to freeze to death….

Trembling, Kiritsugu reached up.

"Iri…."

He touched the side of her smiling, sweet face, surrounded by her soft, silver hair, carrying that scent of irises he remembered. She felt so incredibly real he began to cry, as he saw the small life they had once shared together reflected in her lovely eyes, those eyes that had haunted him all these years…everything that had passed between them, that he had taught her about being human…that she had taught him about being human….

"Iri…."

"Oh Kiritsugu…."

Kiritsugu dared look back only once as he felt his spirit float away towards whatever awaited him next, and he felt his soul grieve now for Shirou, who would be left with the loss of his father. "Shirou…."

But Irisviel gently turned his face toward her again as they rose up into the breathtakingly starry sky. "He'll be all right…I promise…you have to let him go…."

She was right of course. He wouldn't be all right at first, naturally, but…Taiga would be there….

Ah Taiga…will you yourself…be able to bear it?

He hated to think of the two of them crying over him, but at least they would have each other.

Kiritsugu swallowed the lump in his throat, and drank in the look of his wife, relishing in the feel of her softness again, and with a surge of painful, aching love he leaned up and slid his arms around her, and she slid her arms around him in turn, and before he knew it, he was sobbing in her gentle embrace again, as he had done so many times…

…when he'd been alive.

Even so, he was beyond happy he could have this again with his wife, even if it only lasted for a moment or two.

"Iri…Iri…."

And Irisviel stroked his back, hugging him fiercely, weeping with him. "I'm here, Kiritsugu…it's you and me together…from now on…."

The two of them clasped each other even more tightly, naked spirits close together, entwined and never to be separated again.

Looking ahead, Kiritsugu thought he could see a world that was full of nothing but sunlight, and fields of irises far as the eye could see. And Irisviel would be with him, always, just like she'd promised. At long last, he was no longer drowning beneath the crushing weight of water, but soaring high above.

He buried his face in Irisviel's shoulder a moment, feeling the softness of her lovely silver hair, before he pulled back and took her tearful face in his hands, his bittersweet smile reflecting hers.

"I'm so sorry…Iri…Ilya…."

"I know…Kiritsugu…I know…I…I…."

And this time, it was Irisviel who succumbed to wracking sobs, and Kiritsugu held her again, held her so tight he was certain they had truly become fused together. They both cried openly and cathartically for their child, their child who was meant to be a hopeful future and instead would know a life of nothing but pain, because everything had gone so wrong, and there was nothing either of them could do about it…and for the sacrifice Irisviel had made that had come to nothing in the end….

When they looked at each other again, Kiritsugu told her again how sorry he was that he couldn't save Ilya like he'd promised.

"I swore to you I'd protect her…that I'd save her…I'm sorry…."

"Don't be," Irisviel wept. "Please don't be…even if there's nothing we can do…don't blame yourself…."

"And all those people who died…I never meant for any of it to happen…I only wanted…."

"Oh Kiritsugu…ever since that day…I could do nothing but weep for what you had lost…what you would be forced to lose…."

Kiritsugu looked mournfully up at her. "How can I even think to be happy to see you again…? Knowing what our daughter suffers…?"

Irisviel's expression turned inward as it seemed she was trying to think of a way how to best give her husband an explanation. And then she said: "In death…there's simply nothing we can do for her. It tears at my spirit to think not just of what she'll suffer physically…but her heart…it will know nothing but agonizing hatred for you…and you…who did nothing but fight so hard to free her…." She began weep openly again.

As she did, Kiritsugu hugged her to him once more.

"But even so…" she pressed on, "we can't wallow in sorrow over it. What would that accomplish?"

"No, you're right, we can't," Kiritsugu had to agree. "After all, look at this…it seems you have a soul…after all…."

"Yes…." Irisviel managed a watery laugh. "And I'm the one who found you…and you were so worried about that…."

Kiritsugu reflected her laugh, and the two of them pulled back to look at each other. And then he had a sudden thought as he reached up and stroked the side of her face.

"Even if Ilya's fate is sealed…somehow…I have faith in the last thing Shirou told me…that he would carry my dreams in my place…it sounded like something you'd say…maybe that's why I have faith in it…."

"Ah…that's true, I suppose…."

Irisviel leaned up and touched her forehead to her husband's, and the two of them blended again, like strings of bright lights interwoven.

"Then I shall have faith in Shirou too…he's so very kind after all…like his father…."

As Irisviel wiped away Kiritsugu's tears, he did the same for her, before the two of them drew close and their lips touched, a gentle kiss that reaffirmed the bond of love between them that would last beyond even this death, as their souls—one formed through the passage of time of many eons of reincarnation, the other formed simply from all she had learned and taken to heart about being human and becoming more like one—ascended into the greater plane that lay beyond, that mysterious phenomenon from which all consciousness springs, Akasha…whatever it might really be…they both knew that even as they had reached a freedom that their daughter had yet to, they could still make peace with the fact that their time had come to an end. People who could still carry on what they had left behind could take the helm, and perhaps, this time, a miracle really would come to pass.

Yet even so, for Kiritsugu, he realized more than ever what the true miracle for himself was, though he couldn't have put that into words, much more than he could that miracle for all people in the world. Still, as he and Irisviel looked at each other again, he could be certain of one thing: he had known a very beautiful happiness in his life, made more beautiful against the stark ugliness of what pain he had suffered, and after so long despairing that it must have been so meaningless, he was never more pleased to realize now that he was actually very wrong about that.

"Where do we go from here then, Iri?" he asked his wife as he slid his hand in hers.

And Irisviel squeezed that hand, beaming up at him, positively as radiant as an angel. "To eternity, my love," and in the colorful aurora that broke over them then, she kissed him again, and he kissed her back, both with the brilliance of the hope that always came with the rising dawn.

THE END