Of Swords and Redemption

by Saber is a Cutie

He had failed. The grail had been closed but at the cost of everything he held dear. Now, reborn in a new world, Emiya Shirou was left to contemplate the horrors and failures that had befallen him. He had deluded himself in believing he could escape from destiny. There was only one path left for him: to be the sword he had always been fated to be.

3. Chapter 3

The rhythmic sound of steel on wood filled the empty room. Cooking had always calmed me down and was one of the few activities I enjoyed in my previous life. It had lost most of its gratification as of late, but most things had, so it wasn't particularly surprising. Nevertheless, it brought some sense of normalcy in my life, and from Zenith and Lilia's comments, my skills were still quite sharp. Even Paul reluctantly praised my cooking.

Unfortunately, a new world meant new flora and fauna, meaning that I needed to familiarize myself with an entire world's worth of ingredients before I could reclaim my former culinary expertise. It was a daunting task, but I was nothing if not persistent.

Thankfully, there were many similarities. There were several ingredients that seemed to be largely the same but referred to in a different manner. Spices, for example, had a lot of overlap between Earth and this world. A quick dive into the kitchen's spice cabinet had yielded fruitful results. Many spices seemed to be the same and fairly indistinguishable from their Earth counterparts, and even if some ingredients did not have a proper equivalent here, there were other unique, new flavors that looked to be promising.

From what I've heard, the other food groups didn't seem far off from the ingredients I knew. With time, I could rewire my brain to use this world's naming convention. Besides, even if I was unfamiliar with the specific components, my knowledge of techniques was still applicable. Knowing how flavors mixed and changed each other, how different preparation techniques for ingredients could completely change a dish, how careful applications of heat could lead to marvelous results—the ingredients may have changed but dishes themselves could be approached in many different ways.

For example, take my current situation. At the moment, I was making a somewhat bastardized version of fried rice, a staple in Japanese cuisine. Unfortunately, garlic, soy sauce, or ginger, all vital components to the dish, didn't seem to exist. Or at least that was the case from what I could tell. It was difficult describing something to someone who had not the faintest idea what you were referring to. At the very least, they certainly weren't called the same thing here. Nevertheless, I had to make do with what I had on hand. Some liberal experimentation with Zenith's spices had yielded an approximation of the combination of seasonings used for traditional Japanese fried rice. The rice was also not quite to my preferences. Rice in this world was a staple for many areas, though the quality left much to be desired. I heard that the rice up North was superior to everywhere else, and after a passing suggestion to Zenith that my dishes would improve with better ingredients, I could attest to that rumor. It still wasn't on par with what I had back on Earth, but it would do.

At least eggs were exactly the same. They were as ubiquitous as ever, even between worlds. I grabbed four eggs, two in each hand, and firmly cracked them against the countertop. With a deft twist, the eggshells cleanly split open, depositing their golden yolk into the pan below. The rice and meat were all pushed to the edges of the pan, giving me the space to easily cook the egg into a medium scramble. I carefully monitored the egg, watching curds form inside the yellow pool. Deeming it cooked enough, I mixed it in with the rest of the fried rice and took the pan off the heat. It sounded easy enough, but with my body, it was about as graceful one of Fuji-nee's attempts at stealing my portions of food. It was elevated just high enough from the fire that I couldn't easily reach it standing up. Unfortunately, modern gas stovetops were a few hundred years in technology from now. The pan itself was fairly heavy, being built from cast iron. It did wonders for its thermal conductivity and durability, but it was quite a struggle for my small body to move without magecraft.

Grabbing a rag, I wrapped it around the handle and grabbed it with both hands. With a deep inhale, I heaved it out of the fire and began the walk to the kitchen table. The cloth helped to mitigate some of the heat, but it wouldn't help for very long. My short legs made their way to the table, trying to strike the balance between getting there as fast as possible and slowly moving to make sure none of the food spilled.

After what felt like a century, I made it to the table. Precariously balancing myself on the tips of my toes, I held the pan upwards above my head, trying to slide the pan on top of the table.

Alas, even with the additional height, it wasn't enough. The bottom edge of the pan stubbornly held against the edge of the table, refusing to budge. I let go of the handle and used my fingertips to push the pan upwards, gaining a few precious centimeters. Miraculously, I saw it move upwards, getting onto the table for the briefest of moments.

There!

Sensing an opportunity, I pushed forward with all my might—which was to say, all the strength contained within the singular finger I had balanced the pan on top of—intent on sliding the pan the rest of the way forward. The damnable cooking ware slid forward an impressive four centimeters before losing momentum. At its current position, it was not even halfway onto the table, meaning that the majority of its weight was still suspended in midair. The pan wobbled once, and in dramatic fashion, slowly fell over the edge.

Shit, the food!

I held my hands upwards, positioning myself to catch the flying heavy hunk of iron.

"Young Master Shirou."

Two long arms grasped the handle of the falling pan, quickly placing it back on top of the table. I flinched in surprise at the unexpected voice. Was I so distracted that I couldn't even notice someone sneaking up on me? It was shameful. The current situation was fairly innocuous, but that carelessness could lead to consequences far worse in the future.

Halting my internal berating, I turned, coming face to face—it was really more of her upper thigh—with Lilia. The diligent woman was already wearing her usual maid outfit consisting of a dark button-up shirt and skirt beneath a white apron. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been so surprised she was here. Her duties started early, from helping to prepare breakfast to getting started on the cleaning and laundry. I would know: I've started helping her on these chores, even if she was a bit horrified at receiving help from a four year-old.

"Lilia," I greeted amicably. "I apologize for waking you. I didn't mean to make so much noise." Unfortunately, having small arms and legs meant being somewhat clumsy since many of the kitchen supplies I needed were out of reach.

"No need to apologize, Master Shirou. This is my usual time to commence my duties. However—"she took a deliberate glance at the food on the table"—I must insist that you leave these menial tasks to myself. It is not fitting for the next head of the household to—"

"It's fine, Lilia," I dismissed her concerns with a wave of my hand. "It would be remiss of me to sit back and watch as you and Zenith take care of the house."

"But—"

"And like I've said before, I do this because I want to." Sensing her doubt, I curled my lips upwards, and Lilia seemed to deflate at the sight before sighing in defeat. "Oh, and didn't I tell you to stop referring to me as 'Master'?" Unnecessary formality aside, the term held too many connotations I preferred to avoid, both from my perspective and an outsider's.

"Very well. If that is your wish, Master." she bowed though the deferent gesture was ironically rebellious in this context. I rolled my eyes at her stubbornness and accepted that I would just have to deal with it.

Lilia looked at the freshly made food on the table, and I saw a glint of hunger in her eyes. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the breakfast I prepared.

"Of course, I made it for everyone."

"My thanks." Taking a spoon from one of the cabinets, she dipped it into the pan and took out a larger than necessary chunk of rice. Placing it reverently into her mouth, she let out a quiet moan of pleasure as she closed her eyes and took in the delightful sensations that were assaulting her senses. She placed a hand on her cheek, feeling the heat from the slight blush of her cheeks as she continued chewing. With an audible gulp, Lilia swallowed and opening her eyes once more, she returned to the polite demeanor I was used to, erasing all traces of what had happened in the past ten seconds.

"Your skills are progressing quite well, Master Shirou. Had you been born to a lower family, you would have made quite a wonderful house servant for nobility. I have no doubt should your abilities continue progressing at your current rate, you would be able to fetch a high price for your services," she remarked.

"Ah, it's nothing, I assure you. I've just had a lot of practice," I deflected while scratching the back of my head. It was true, just not the way she thought. I've had over a decade of experience cooking, mainly due to my father's and Fuji-nee's sinful performance in the kitchen, so my current skills were nothing praiseworthy. Of course, Lilia didn't know that. From her perspective, I've only been cooking for the past year, ever since I gained enough dexterity to not be a complete dunce around the house. In truth, my rapid development was less growth and more recalling previous knowledge.

"Nevertheless, such expertise must be commended."

The sound of the stairs creaking grabbed both of our attention. Apparently, our discussion was loud enough to reach the master bedroom upstairs, as Zenith made her way down. The woman seemed fairly tired; her shoulders were slumped, and her posture was poor, bordering on back-breaking with the slouch she had. Evidently, last night was not kind to her, nor any of the previous ones for the past few years, though I couldn't tell if it was my imagination or not, but she seemed less fatigued as of late.

To her credit, the jovial woman immediately bounced back. "Oh, did Shirou cook again?" All evidence of her exhaustion disappeared in an instant. She ran into the kitchen with her usual bright smile. Taking a moment to ruffle my hair, she took a similar spoonful of the fried rice as Lilia.

"Mmm, this is amazing!" she exclaimed while burying her spoon into the food again. "Your cooking is just marvelous, Shirou. Learned from the best?" she smirked as she placed yet another chunk of rice into her mouth. "I swear, it's just fried rice. I didn't even know you could make these kinds of flavors…." she wondered while looking at the dish inquisitively.

"I'm glad you enjoy it." Perhaps speaking up was a mistake. Apparently, my words must have reminded Zenith of my presence, shocking her out of her reverie. In the blink of an eye, she made her way over to me, bodily picking me up and spinning herself and me like a tornado.

"Ah, my son is the best!" she screamed for the whole world to hear. Through the distortion of my vision at being spun around at comical levels of speed, I could see Lilia sighing in resignation at her employer's antics. Leaving me to my fate, she went back to the kitchen to prepare the rest of the food for breakfast.

Seeing that I would receive no help, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Zenith, please put me down."

"Nope."

At least I tried.

"Shirou cooks. Shirou cleans. All without complaint too!" I got the feeling that the last comment was directed at someone. "I'm sure you'll make some girl very happy one day." Realizing something, Zenith abruptly stopped and buried my head into her chest. "But not if I have anything to say about it…." I couldn't quite make out what she said, primarily because I was being suffocated between two bountiful mounds. She was quite, ahem, well-endowed, so with her surprising strength, it was hard finding space to breathe.

Seeing my predicament, Zenith mercifully released me from her chest, dropping me gently onto the ground as if I were made of glass.

"Sorry, Shirou. I got a bit excited," she smiled sheepishly. It was just like her to act before thinking. In that sense, she reminded me much of my former guardian. I had no doubts that if they ever met, they would have gotten along wonderfully. "You know how I get when it comes to you."

"It's fine. I understand." I actually didn't, but she didn't need to know that.

"Still, this dish is truly wonderful," she said, pointing at it. Hesitatingly, she prodded at the food, almost as if she were afraid it was some divine mystery that defied all comprehension. It was a silly notion—my magecraft wasn't nearly at that level.

Satisfied, she shoveled another piece out—

Only to be stopped in place by a firm hand on her wrist. Eyes wide in fury at who would dare interrupt her meal, Zenith sharply flicked her head to the side, only to meet calm blue.

"Master Zenith, I advise that you restrain yourself. At this rate, we will not have enough for breakfast," Lilia warned.

Nevertheless, the hand continued its struggle, trembling against the maid's grip as she tried to bring it to her mouth. Realizing she could not bring the food to her, she tried the opposite, swinging herself forward to capture the prized delicacy within her lips—

But was stopped short by the maid's other hand on her shoulder. Zenith shot the maid a look of betrayal.

"Lilia, I'll give you some, don't worry. Just—"

she continued bending forwards

"—let—"

her eyes were wide with desperation

"—me—"

a sound of frustration between a whine and growl left her lips

"—have—"

an expression of fury and frustration graced the woman's normally gentle features

"—one—"

she resorted to chomping at empty air

"—piece!"

Alas, it was not meant to be as the dutiful woman stood her ground, though her stoicism was being thoroughly challenged judging from how her face twitched erratically.

"Ah, please wait until breakfast to eat, Zenith. The rest of the food won't take long for me to make, so you can relax until I finish," I requested amicably.

To her credit, Zenith at least looked fairly embarrassed and abashed. She dropped the spoon, letting the food fall back into the pan. Sensing her surrender, Lilia released the woman's wrist and returned to her tasks in the kitchen without a word. Now free, Zenith turned to me with a healthy flush to her face.

"Whoops, sorry about that, Shirou. Looks like I did it again. Hahaha…." she trailed off with an awkward laugh.

I wasn't really bothered at all. The woman did get a tad too excited at my cooking, definitely, but it was hardly something I wasn't accustomed to. Fuji-nee was able to consume enough food for an entire family by herself, without compensating me back, of course. And even her paled in comparison to my dear Servant.

During the climax of the Holy Grail War, eating food was necessary to supplement Saber's magical energy reserves for our outings, though she ate with far more zeal than required, and the petite woman was able to put away enough food for me to mentally dub her as a human black hole, continuously swallowing everything in her path without fail. Her habits were gluttonous enough that I had to go to the shopping district every other day to appease her appetite.

Compared to those two, Zenith was far more manageable, nothing more than a minor additional factor I had to account for. Lilia too. In fact, I was fairly sure I could see her discretely intermittently picking at the food out of the corner of my eye.

"It's okay. I can always cook more, but please be sure to save some for Paul. He requires the most energy out of all of us." It was true. Of everyone in the household, Paul was by far the most active due to his daily patrols and training. While I exercised as well, my body was so small that my energy usage was not comparable.

"Well, it's his fault if he's not here in time," she huffed and crossed her arms.

"I imagine he can't sleep very well. Please be more considerate," I hinted.

A look of guilt flashed across her face. However, her eyes glanced towards me, and the expression of guilt vanished. Instead, blue eyes hardened with cold fury, only to disappear just as quickly.

I mentally sighed. It seemed progress in that area was still slow. I never did have the strongest understanding of other people. I was woefully unsuited for this. Nevertheless, I caused this problem. Zenith and Paul were a perfectly normal couple before my birth here. Had I been another child, I doubt something like this would have happened. This drift between them occurred because of me, so it stands to reason that I had to fix it.

Still, it wasn't going to be easy.

Zenith didn't bother hiding her frustrations, releasing a sigh far too lethargic for a woman of her age. She smiled at me, though I could tell it was strained, like a parent trying not to scoff at a child's naivete, which wasn't too far off the mark, I supposed.

"It's something between us, sweetie. You're too young to be worrying about this. Let Mama handle it." She bent down and kissed me on the forehead, giving me another smile—genuine, this time. "Speaking of handling things, you got one thing wrong earlier."

I raised an eyebrow.

She smirked.

"You said I could sit back and relax while you handle the rest of the food. I came down here to put a stop to that." She smiled and put her hands on her hips. "You are not 'helping' today, Shirou. Lilia and I will handle things."

I furrowed my eyebrows in irritation. First Lilia, and now Zenith.

"But you don't have to. I want to," I insisted.

"Nope."

"But you've done so much. At least give me the opportunity to pay you back—"

"Nope."

Perhaps some logic?

"But I won't be a child forever. I'll need to learn to cook and clean eventually. It's better to learn now than—"

"Definitely nope!"

"Nope to me cooking and cleaning or to me growing up?"

"Nope!"

"I…." Words failed me as I could do nothing but gawk at the woman. Or maybe woman was giving her too much credit. It was hard to believe she was a fully matured adult. I knew she was quite playful, but this display was pushing it. As lovely as her antics were, there was a certain something about it that felt…. off? It was almost like it was forced, exaggerating her personality as if she were comic relief in a TV show. The idea was preposterous since Zenith had no need to be so blatantly cheerful, but the notion seemed more plausible than I cared to admit.

Zenith took my silence as a sign of acquiescence.

"I appreciate the help, I really do. Lilia will never admit it, but she enjoys your help as well," she started. "However, you need to leave this stuff to the adults."

"But I just want to help."

"See that? That's what's wrong," she pointed out.

"There's nothing wrong with helping others," I denied. I've had this conversation before. I didn't change my answer then, and I surely wouldn't do it now.

"There isn't," she conceded, "but you take it too far. You're four, Shirou. You don't need to 'pay me back'." She grasped my shoulders, looking me squarely in the eyes. Her ocean blue orbs shimmered with anxiety and worry, almost to the point of shedding tears. Her features were sternly set, sharply contrasting with the spirited show earlier. "I gave birth to you not so you could do something for me. I had you, so I could do something for you."

I didn't know how to reply to that. Her words sucked the air out of my lungs, taking all the fight out of me. I could do nothing but gape at the woman in front of me. And then Zenith smiled, and I involuntarily gasped as my heart skipped a beat. It was as if the angels themselves blessed her existence at that very moment. There was no shred of disingenuity I could find, not a single iota of falsehood on her face. It was the smile of someone with no regrets, made with every ounce of feeling within herself, not of love for herself, but for the person she was looking at.

It was confusing. I had done nothing to warrant her affection. She had nothing to be grateful for.

I knew that smile. I had seen it before on a husk of a man. I inadvertently closed my eyes, and before I could stop it, my mind flashed back all those years ago to that fateful night.

Fire as far as the eye could see. A sky of blood red blanketing the area. Corpses littering the ground, bent in gruesome positions as their last moments approached.

It was hell.

There was no salvation to be had.

And yet, despite it all, there was a singular ray of hope. A shining light amidst the sea of despair. A star sparkling in the darkness, as golden as the light he held in his hands. It was the smile of a man above me, clutching onto my raised arm as if his very life depended on it. Rivers of tears ran down his face as he breathlessly thanked me over and over for merely existing.

It was the gratitude of a man who had nothing, pursuing an ambition that betrayed him time and again. He had lost everything, his ideal turning to ashes in the very fire he had created and coming apart in his grasp. In the end, the only thing he could save was the broken boy he had found amidst the ruins of his dream.

"I'm guessing you're mulling over it?"

The sudden words snapped me out of my reverie. Fire and blood faded away to reveal the familiar kitchen I was standing in, as well as the source of my musing.

Kiritsugu's smile had been one born out of salvation from tragedy. Zenith's felt…. similar, yet not quite the same. Not in a bad way, just ever so slightly different.

Even looking at it right now, it was hard to decipher. Her smile made something in my chest stir that while unknown, I didn't particularly mind. Still, it was hard to deny the memories they invoked. Every time I looked at her, her image would be buried under flashes of Kiritsugu's face and promises of heroism, the very promise I had failed to uphold.

"I don't promise anything."

Perhaps, in another time, in another life, in another world, with them. Redemption had been possible for me once, but it had slipped away. These hands were destined to never hold anything.

"Well, I suppose that's all I could ever ask of you." Zenith seemed to accept my answer and walked to the kitchen. I moved forward to follow her, but before I could complete a single step, she swiftly pivoted, fixing me with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I was serious, by the way. You're not setting foot in the kitchen. Or anywhere in this house, for that matter."

I looked to the side where Lilia was busy measuring ingredients. Hearing the pause in our exchange, she instinctively turned her head towards us. I took the chance to meet her eyes with my own, trying to convey my need for assistance.

Without a second thought, Lilia turned back to what she was doing.

Abandoned again, I see.

"Well, is there anything you want me to do?" I asked.

Zenith sighed. "I don't know. Go have fun and explore or whatever it is kids do. As long as it's not here. Now—"she pointed at the door—"out with you."

Unable to find it within myself to argue further, I followed her demands and made my way to the door, thinking about what to do for the day.

"Oh, and don't even think about helping the other villagers! I already told them not to accept your help!" Zenith warned just before I closed the door. I inwardly rolled my eyes. Leave it to her to put so much attention on something unimportant. And judging by her parting comment, my behavior had been affecting her for quite some time now. I wasn't really surprised. Fuji-nee had criticized my heroic tendencies multiple times in the past. What Zenith was saying was nothing new to me. In time, Fuji-nee had given up on trying to change me, so I could only assume that Zenith eventually would be the same.

In the meantime, however….

"Alright, fine. I'll just go explore," I said.

"Take care!" she replied, waving goodbye as I shut the door.

Truth be told, this circumstance was a blessing in disguise. I had all day to go outside and do whatever I wanted. No one to worry about, no suspicions to arouse, no sneaking around.

In other words, it was a perfect time to go training. All I needed was to put some distance between myself and the house.

With my mind made up, I started walking down the dirt path in front of the house and headed deeper into the village.

---

"Are you sure it was wise of you to send him out?"

The casual question cut through the silence between the two women, who had previously been content to wordlessly continue with their duties.

Zenith gave the woman a sideways glance. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she gave the conversation a half-hearted effort as she continued chopping various ingredients.

"You've never sent him out like that before," Lilia said. She took a spoonful of the stew she was making, placing it into her mouth. Giving it an appraising hum, she dropped a few more pinches of salt into the pot before resuming her stirring. "In fact, you've always made sure to keep him around you at all times. Why the sudden change?"

"Change is good, no?"

Lilia suppressed a groan. If Zenith would not be entirely forthcoming with her, then it seemed that she would have to cut directly to the heart of the matter. Leaving the stew to simmer, she fully turned around to look her employer and friend—though that last title was still a bit new for Lilia to comfortably use—but Zenith had not bothered to face her in turn.

"Before now, you've made sure to always keep him at your side. Whenever you go visit the other villagers, you dragged him along with you, even for the most menial reasons. Every interesting fact you point out turns into a lengthy lecture that you know he is too polite to ignore. Even with these mundane household chores"—Lilia vaguely gestured around the room—" you've made it a point to have Shirou nearby, either at your immediate side or in your vision. While you dislike his insistence on helping, surely some part of you is relieved that he stays put and helps around the house," she explained.

At this point, the sound of the knife cutting into vegetables had stopped, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Sensing she had gotten somewhere, Lilia pressed forwards.

"You coddle him to an unnatural degree. Some people would call you overbearing and suffocating," she said. "I would not disagree with that assessment."

Her words caused Zenith's body to tense, and the woman slowly turned around to face her, two pairs of ocean blue silently meeting. However, one side was blank and unfeeling whereas the other wavered and shook with uncertainty and indecision. Compared to Lilia's stoic bearing, Zenith's expression was a storm of emotions, though the most prominent of them seemed to be the doubt Lilia had seen appear more and more frequently nowadays.

Lilia couldn't blame Zenith for her anxiety. She knew the cause of her worries, and the circumstances surrounding the Greyrat household were a minefield anyone would be hard pressed to traverse.

"Sorry, Lilia. I've just been thinking more and more lately," Zenith explained.

"About Paul?"

"About Shirou, though it goes without saying Paul is part of those thoughts as well," she clarified.

"I see." She really did. The topic of Zenith's child was a complicated one. Truth be told, Shirou was a peculiar child. Strange, even. Perhaps bordering on anomalous, one could say. Her somewhat harsh judgement couldn't be entirely attributed to one specific factor, but they all fell under one overarching reason: simply put, Shirou did not act like a child.

Often times, Lilia had to remind herself that he was four years old. At his tender age, most children were blabbering and incoherent piles of flesh held together by the vaguest links of sentience. However, it was more apparent each passing day that no one had bothered to tell Shirou that.

The boy was remarkable. He showed physical and mental capabilities far beyond his age. He was largely self-sufficient, learning all the steps to growing up as if he were reading thems straight out of a textbook.

As someone who had experienced in helping raising children, Lilia was used to the laborious process of fostering that instinctual urge to walk. She had helped them remain upright and balance their top-heavy bodies as unused legs muscles acclimated to bearing the load of a human body. It was a lengthy affair, and one she was prepared to undertake once again when she was hired as a maid for the Greyrats.

In the end, it was largely unnecessary. Shirou had taken to walking like a fish to water, displaying coordination and balance more in line with a teenager than a toddler. He wasn't infallible; he didn't immediately start running and jumping out of his crib. In fact, he was clumsy in the beginning, trying to stand and walk when his body simply wasn't ready for it. However, the sheer rate of his progression was astounding. It only took perhaps a week or two for him to adapt and overcome his physical deficiencies. And if her eyes were not deceiving her, even his body would not be his limiting factor in the future because the boy was slowly losing his baby fat in exchange for muscle—not much, he was still a toddler, but he was a better physical specimen than his age would indicate.

His sudden dexterity translated to other areas as well. His skills in the kitchen were commendable. Originally, Zenith had been reluctant to let Shirou handle any cooking, expecting him to chop off a finger or two, but the boy had shown her that her concerns were trivial. Frankly, in terms of pure mechanical expertise with a blade, Shirou was superior to her and Zenith.

That was not to say that he was their superior in overall cooking talent—she needed to have some pride in her skills as a maid, though she loathed to admit that he was very quickly catching up—but Shirou made his knifework an art. His speed was impressive, almost bordering on recklessly dangerous if not for the fact that he tempered it with almost inhuman accuracy and precision, resulting in exact cuts at large volume. And if he could learn and experience the various cuisines of the regions of the world and combine them with his eye-popping efficiency? He would truly be a culinary master.

In Lilia's eyes, there was no doubt he would achieve that in the future. Because while Shirou's physical development was astounding, it was still second to his most remarkable trait: his mind.

Shirou's mind was perhaps the true reason for his sudden development. While his body was impressive, his mental capabilities were the engine behind the boy's extraordinary development. For example, his skills with a knife at first glance could be attributed to some innate talent. However, Lilia had seen him barely able to raise the blade and lower it in a smooth motion. His speed then was pedestrian—of course it was, he was four—taking all the time in the world to chop each piece as carefully and safely as possible. And then he had tried again the next dats, and there was a substantial improvement in his technique. There was less hesitation, less wasted movements. The day after that saw the same results as well.

Before Lilia knew it, the boy handling a knife with the finesse of a professional, as if he had been using one for a decade. It was obviously impossible, but then again, she had seen it happen before her very eyes, so she wasn't quite sure about the boundaries of what was possible or not anymore.

Maybe his growth couldn't be entirely pinned onto him. She had noticed, on occasion, that he was observing everything around him. He wasn't particularly discrete about it either. And when she said everything, she meant everything. Even something as mundane as the walls of the house. From the way he peered at them, it was like he was seeing no one else could. She had initially chalked it up to typical toddler eccentricities, but as his intelligence became more noticeable, that particular theory became harder and harder to believe.

Something that frequently held his interest was Paul's training regimen. She often found him in the upstairs storage room watching him intently in the yard. As a former guard and an acquaintance of his, she knew first-hand that Paul was very skilled, enough so that his movements could be seen as mesmerizing. It was no surprise that it held a child's attention. And yet, when Shirou watched him, she didn't get the sense of wonder and admiration that she would have expected. His gaze was far more…. analytical, silently judging and critiquing the forms and motions of someone who, for all intents and purposes, should have been beyond his ability to comprehend. Still, she could feel those eyes follow his father flawlessly and then that hidden intellect that always lingered just below the surface of his gaze processing every minute detail, dissecting each iota of information down to its most basic level and then absorbing it.

Most people who have called her ridiculous for complaining about a child learning, but they did not see what she saw. How, despite only seeing his father go through the motions once, Shirou had, with stick in hand, mimicked his movements almost flawlessly with the same blank look he always had.

And perhaps that was the crux of the matter. She should've been happy that her employer's—friend's?—child was so special. However, whenever she looked into those golden eyes, ones that should have full of life and joy, she saw…nothing. His gaze, instead of vibrant gold, were a dull amber that held the same emptiness she had sensed from the very beginning. His apathy extended to his demeanor as well, though he did well to hide it. He was always polite and soft-spoken, seldomly deviating from the same dull tone of voice. He occasionally did express emotions, but it was only superficial. He would smile occasionally to keep up appearances of a typical child, but it never did quite reach his eyes.

He was born like this, she knew. She had been there for his birth. When Zenith first held Shirou in her arms, they were all concerned. His eyes were shut, and he was silent. Just before Lilia made to go over and spank him to induce stimulation and make him breath, Shirou had woken up. Not with wailing as she had expected, but with a cry of something. It sounded like a name, but Lilia couldn't be sure because his vocal cords weren't developed enough to create refined sounds yet. Nevertheless, he had said it once, looked around the room, said what vaguely sounded like another name, and then silently observed them for the rest of the evening. And for the years afterwards, he had maintained that disposition. That moment was the most emotion she has ever seen out of him.

There was one time where she had tried to peer past the surface, to search for a sign of something—anything —to assuage her fears.

Lilia had found something, though she had sorely regretted it.

Fire and death.

It clung him to like a parasite, unwilling to release him. A miasma of death and grief so nauseating she had almost vomited on the spot permeated his existence.

That was the last time she dared to try and find it again.

It was unnatural. No one should have been like that, never mind a four year-old that Lilia had watched over since birth. She had seen soldiers fresh from battle, victims of ambushes as the sole survivors, and even watched over the dying as their last moments approached.

What did it say then that they were in far better condition than Shirou? That their wide-eyed terror attacks were preferable to his inhuman emptiness. That their mental states were healthier in comparison to a boy whose blank and broken mind might as well have been nailed back together and then covered by a blanket called humanity.

Lilia was a woman of superstition. Every fiber in her being told her that she should not associate herself with him. Every instinct she had told her to run away without a second thought.

And yet, she remained in the very household he resided in.

The reason: Shirou was not a bad person.

Despite his frightening adaptability and unnerving emptiness, there was no sense of maliciousness. That glimmer of intelligence in his eyes lacked the evil glint of a boy who desired to use his abilities to do harm. He did not manipulate the people around him—blatant attempts to appease Zenith aside though perhaps that only helped his case.

He was a model child, always speaking with respect and never making trouble for anyone. He constantly offered his hand for anything, even somewhat excessively. Lilia could not recall a child who would do laundry or cooking before Shirou, who would gladly suggest his assistance with a—fake—smile on his face.

So, she would put up with his behavior for now.

It had taken her all this time to make up her mind, and she had only decided a few months ago to stop with her icy attitude and try to treat the boy as the child he should be, even if he blatantly wasn't.

But that was only her perspective. The one that really mattered was the one from the person in front of her.

Zenith spent the most time around him and while the woman could be a bit ditzy at times, she was not an idiot. She definitely had noticed her son's behavior by now, and Lilia guessed that her indecision towards the matter contributed to her recently growing stress.

As merely an observer and occasion caretaker, Lilia was very distressed by Shirou's mannerisms to say the least.

As his mother, his own flesh and blood, she couldn't imagine what she was feeling.

She had some insight, of course. Recently, Zenith had confided some of her feelings towards various matters, Shirou included though that discussion never delved particularly deeply, only mentioning certain oddities in his behavior. However, words themselves could not properly carry the entirety of something as complex as human emotion, so understanding Zenith completely was impossible.

Still, she had to try.

"He's four years-old, you know?"

"I do."

"It's strange. I've been his mother all these years," she said, glancing towards the front door where the subject of the conversation had left from just a few minutes ago, "and yet I never did quite feel like one."

Lilia did not like where this was going.

"Zenith, you—"

"I feel like a skipped a few steps. I never got to do the things any parent would be expected to do."

She needed this, Lilia thought. All this time, she had kept all these feelings inside, never letting anyone, even her, know of them. And yet, Lilia was afraid of what conclusions Zenith might reach.

"I didn't have to teach him how to walk. One day he was crawling and before I knew it, he might as well have been a horse running around! I didn't have to teach him how to talk either. He's already more well-spoken than most people I know. Hell, he can even cook for himself now. I don't even have to feed him anymore. Just another thing to cross off the list, I guess," she mirthlessly chuckled, helplessly shrugging her shoulders as the maid.

Lilia kept silent, letting Zenith finish venting her frustrations. When the woman trailed off into silence, she opened her mouth to speak but found the words stuck in her throat.

What would she know? She was not a mother, someone who had given birth to another human being. She had no experience in this field. The most she could offer Zenith was her ear and her sympathy. Any advice she could offer might fall on deaf ears due to her inexperience, and even if Zenith did take her words to heart, there was no guarantee that it would be of any use. Lilia herself could barely sort out her own feelings on the matter.

"I hate to admit it, but perhaps Paul did have a point."

"Zenith, surely you must be joking!"

The rift between the married pair was…vast, to say the least. It was another topic that had come up in their conversations, though thankfully her tongue was looser talking about Paul than Shirou.

"I've always held it against him. The accusations hurt—I would never dare forsake our vows—but I couldn't blame him. It made sense after all. Our own son doesn't even look anything like us," she chuckled bitterly.

"But he's your son," she countered, using Zenith's own words during her arguments with Paul.

An uncomfortable pause, one far too long for her liking, followed.

"He is," she finally said, though how much of those words were true, neither of them knew. Still, Lilia released a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Then…."

Zenith's expression turned unreadable, twisting into an ugly mix of emotions. She turned away, closing her eyes and carefully pondering her next words. In turn, Lilia kept her silence, unwilling to interrupt.

When Zenith finally opened her eyes, they trembled with doubt and insecurity.

"Lilia, I don't think I'm fit to be Shirou's mother anymore."

---

Considering the time period and my location, I wasn't surprised that Buena Village was fairly agricultural. In fact, it was almost entirely farmland. The land around me was a veritable sea of green dotted by a few modest houses. Fields of wheat and other vegetation dominated the landscape as they gentle swayed with the morning wind. Whatever areas wasn't used for farming was undeveloped land covered by golden grass and tall trees.

It had its charm, he supposed. As a native of Fuyuki, the rural setting I was born in was a definite change of pace. Fuyuki was comprised of two developed halves. Despite Miyama Town being the older and less modern of the two, it was still fairly urban with buildings packed together like sardines in a can and having no problems populating them with people. As for Shinto, well, one look at the towering skyscrapers and crowded mall and other amenities and one could definitely draw some differences between my previous residence and Buena Village.

Here, due to how spread out the residences were, people were far less common. Not to say there were rare—they could commonly be found attending to the crops or other chores in the fields—but there weren't large groups of people clustering together like in Fuyuki.

I certainly didn't mind the time alone. I was no recluse, but neither was I a social butterfly.

"Ah, Shirou, good morning!"

For example, the villager in front of me was the first person I've seen traversing this path since I've left the house. He was riding a horse-drawn cart filled with bales of hay, no doubt freshly harvested from the fields.

"Good morning, Mister Taguchi," I greeted. He stopped his cart and curiously peered down at me.

"Oh, Zenith isn't with you today?"

"She is not," I shook my head. "I was told to go 'have fun and explore'." I explained.

"Strange. Usually, she's circling you like a mother hen. Well, I suppose Zenith is pretty impulsive. Once she gets an idea stuck in her head, there's not much you can do," he laughed.

I nodded in confirmation. Zenith seemed like someone with a one-track mind, changing on a whim and pursuing whatever ideas filled her head. Not that was a bad thing. The comparison to Fuji-nee was fairly apt, and despite her questionable competence as an adult, I did hold her character in high regard.

"Oh, that remind me! Thank you for the other day, Shirou." He gestured downwards towards the front axle of the cart. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me repair the cart. It's all thanks to you I can haul all this around," he jerked his thumb to the bundles of hay in the back.

"It was no issue. If there's anything else I can help with…."

A flash of fear flickered the man's face. "Ah, thank you for the offer, but I can't. Zenith explicitly told me to stop relying on children for tasks a man should be able to do." The man sighed in exhaustion at recalling the conversation with the woman. "As helpful as you are, I don't need Zenith busting down my door and yelling at me. No doubt my wife would join in." He grimaced at the thought.

"I see. Looks like Zenith was serious after all," I said. It was unfortunate, but there wasn't much I could do. Looks like my original plan of training was the best way to make use of this weird day. "Mister Taguchi, do you know any places nearby where I can play? Preferably quiet and isolated."

"Quiet and isolated?" The man stroked his chin in thought. "Not off the top of my head, but if you head there—"he pointed at a hill in the distance near the forest surrounding the village"—you might be able to see something from up there."

"That makes sense. Thank you."

"Though quiet and isolated? I'm not too surprised, I guess. You did ask for Zenith and I to go away when you were fixing the cart."

Hiding my magecraft was a bit tricky, though thankfully I did some experience from before.

"I perform better with no one looking."

He heartily laughed. "Hah, you're nothing like your parents. Paul would've taken the chance to brag about his skills in front of people, and Zenith might shrivel up and die if she had no one to talk to. I guess the apple fell far from the tree, huh." He chuckled a bit more to himself. "Well, I gotta get going. I need to drop off this hay. Take care, Shirou." He gave me a friendly wave before spurring the horse forward.

"You as well, Mister Taguchi." I waved back before looking at the hill he pointed out. True to his word, it looked like a good vantage point to scout from. As a bonus, I could learn more about the lay of the land. It looked to be a few kilometers from my current position, so the walk would take a while. No matter, it gave me time to sort out my thoughts anyway.

It was a rare opportunity to let my mind wander without Zenith's antics or Paul's attitude. With each passing day, the difference between them and I grew larger and larger. As I became more independent, it became all the more obvious that I didn't belong here as part of their family. The earlier conversation with Taguchi served only to prove my point. Not only did I look like some bastard child, but my demeanor didn't match either of my parents. The lie of being their son was quickly become harder and harder to keep up. At this rate, running away was looking like a more tempting option.

"I gave birth to you not so you can do something for me. I had you so I could do something for you."

I swore to stop the people around me from crying. If I did abandon this life, Paul probably wouldn't mind, but Zenith definitely would break down.

But what if it was for their own good? That my presence was clearly only causing them pain?

Kiritsugu would have left. Archer too. Those two were pragmatic and logical. Neither of them would have been keen on playing house when they could be so much more.

A memory flashed across my mind, of a smile of a woman filled with love for her child. The same smile I had seen just this morning.

The thought of that smile twisting with sadness, of those azure blue eyes filled with tears of grief brought an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, as if I would be betraying my ideal despite it being beneficial in the end.

Decisions, decisions.

Once again, the thought of the women in my previous life filled my head. They would've provided some insight on this dilemma. They were smart like that, far more than I. But alas, just like the past few years, I would need to navigate this issue on my own, for better or worse. Whatever the consequences might be, there were solely mine to bear.

"You really can see a lot from up here." In the midst of my musing, I had arrived at the hill Taguchi had pointed. It was an excellent vantage point, providing an excellent view of the entirety of Buena Village as well as the surrounding area. From up here, it was easy to see the how the land was divided into areas for different crops. Some squares of land were entirely exposed soil as the crops previously grown there were harvested for the season. Hmm, I should tell them that planting a cover crop would be beneficial for preserving the topsoil from weathering.

Regardless, it didn't detract much from the beauty of the view. It reminded me a lot of the agricultural provinces in Japan. Though unlike on Earth, the lack of mechanization and human exploitation added a certain element of mystique that I didn't mind.

I turned to the side to look at the vegetation around the path. The flora was certainly beautiful, coming in a plethora of vibrant colors that could only be matched by the most exotic of locations in Earth. They contrasted nicely with the golden canopy of the forest. The wildlife was quite exquisite as well. Butterflies of equally vivid colors congregated towards flowers while birds chirped their morning songs to greet the coming day.

The forest felt alive, teeming with all sorts of life that I knew no idea about. It certainly was far livelier than the forest around the Einzbern manor, which felt stagnant and deathly, not to mention the many horrific memories made there.

I continued walking. The scenery was almost hypnotic, letting me forget Zenith's earlier actions.

Of course, where one door closed, another opened. Letting my wander was perhaps a mistake, as I couldn't help but feel a longing in my heart. Despite the years that have passed, the memories were as fresh as ever. How could I forget? The Holy Grail War is something that engraves itself into the mind, forever a parasite. I looked to my side, and if I squinted just right, the colors of the scenery morphed into a familiar shape: the blonde King of Knights, garbed in her signature silver armor over her royal blue dress. But I blink, and the image fades entirely, replaced only by a deep pang in my chest.

Back then, it had been just her and I against what seemed like the world. While I gained allies later in the war, she had been my partner since the very beginning. This casual stroll through the woods reminded me much of our evening patrols, when the world seemingly stood still, and the silence of the night made it seem like we were the only ones in the world. Of course, I wasn't currently looking out for the supernatural in the evening, but the isolation of the forest reminded me of those memories nonetheless.

"You would've loved this, Saber," I said wistfully, taking in the breadth of the nature around me. "We never did get to go on that date you promised…."

"She's running away! Get her!"

"Come back here, demon!"

"P-P-Please stop!"

Frantic footsteps race towards me before abruptly stopping, and I hear the sound of a body hitting the ground. The voices were coming from deeper in the path, past the crest of the hill I was on.

"Ahhh!"

As if they had a mind of their own, my legs were already moving, the magecraft-enhanced limbs moving my body towards the other side of the hill. The forest canopy parts to reveal the blinding white light of the afternoon sun. I instinctively cover my eyes, trying to will my eyes to adjust faster to the sudden sunlight.

"Nice! You got her face!"

"You think I got it in her eyes again?"

"Nah but looks like you got some in her mouth though."

The world of white subsides, revealing a scene that made my blood boil.

A girl laid on the ground, her white cloak heavily caked in mud. She was sprawled on her back, supporting herself with one arm while the other futilely tried to shield her face. Her front was similarly smeared with mud; her white shirt was stained brown, and her face was bore the same splotches as the rest of her person, except there was even more dirt there.

"Hey, I got a big one here!"

Across from her were three boys, all of which seemed significantly older than her. Their legs and arms were covered in mud as well, though it was done willingly. One of the boys, the largest of the three, bent over to the side, picking up a sizeable rock. Tossing it up and down to test its weight, the boy cocked back his arm, aiming for the girl's head.

"Take this!"

The large stone flew the air. With its mass and momentum, the projectile would easily cause severe damage, especially with the girl's frail frame, if not outright death by caving in her skull.

Too bad it never reached its target.

With a practiced mental command and a flash of blue light, a nondescript dagger appeared over my shoulder and disappeared just as quickly, the weapon imperceptibly soaring through the air at supersonic speeds in a deadly straight line.

Sparks flew as steel met rock, intercepting each other's course. The stone harmlessly dropped like a fly to the side, landing in a puddle of mud and splashing its thrower. The dagger spun through the air until it embedded itself into the ground point-first before dissipating into motes of light.

"W-Wait what?"

The group looked around in confusion, wondering what had happened in that brief second, until one of them spotted me slowly walked down the hill towards them.

"Hey! Stay out of this!"

"Yeah! Get outta here!"

I calmly continued walking forwards, uncaring for their warnings. Reaching the girl, who looked up at me bewilderingly with a single green eye—she must have gotten mud in her other eye—I extended a hand towards her invitingly.

"Are you okay?"

She numbly nodded and apprehensively placed her similarly small hand in mine. With a grunt, I hefted her up onto her feet.

"O-Ow!"

Her left leg wobbled, and she immediately collapsed, sending her flying backwards. Fortunately, I was still holding onto her, so getting down onto one knee, I gently lowered her onto the ground in a sitting position.

"Your left ankle is sprained," I noticed, looking at the ugly purple discoloration on the joint. "You must not have noticed it because of the adrenaline."

"Adrenaline?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

"Hey, don't ignore us!"

I shot an apologetic expression at her.

"Sorry, this will just take a second."

Standing up, I turned around and took a few steps forwards to face the three bullies. They all looked livid, clenching their teeth in frustration and glaring holes at me.

"Did you guys want something?"

"Why are you helping her?! She's a demon!"

I raised an eyebrow. Demon?

I looked back at the girl behind me. Her eyes widened in fear, and she started trembling, bringing her arms towards herself and shying away from me.

I peered closer at her. There were no ram horns sprouting from her green hair, nor did were bat wings sprouting from her back. Neither did she look like a certain executor priest.

Hooves maybe? I looked down.

Nope.

Judging from her tearful expression, she was afraid of what I was going to do next. It was a far cry from trying to drag me through fire and brimstone to the depths of hell.

"Demon? I don't see a demon," I answered, looking back at the boys. "In fact, that word is probably better used to describe you three."

They looked flabbergasted. "What do you mean she's not a demon?! Look at her!" one of them said, angrily pointing his finger at the girl behind me.

"I don't see a demon," I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Now, are you going to leave by your own volition, or do you need to be persuaded?"

"Pffft!" Almost immediately, laughter erupted among them as their angry expressions morphed into a mix of incredulity and amusement. One of them bent over his waist, loudly laughing as he slapped his thigh repeatedly. In contrast, I continued standing across from them with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh man, that's good. You're like, what, four?" He gestured to my small stature. "Look, one last time: either move, or we'll do it for you."

I sighed in exasperation. "Persuasion it is. I never was good at talking," I lamented.

"Whatever. The girl can't run anymore anyway. Just beat him, and we can see how long she can hold her breath underwater." The three boys fanned out, surrounding me in a semicircle. They were significantly larger than me, tall enough to almost blot out the sun from my two and a half foot perspective. However, I could tell they were inexperienced—they were children, after all. They looked at each other uncertainly, seeing which one of them would make the first move.

After half a minute of standing, it was the boy on the right that started the fight. He ran towards me, right arm cocked back. Before reaching me, he planted his left foot into the ground, extending his fist towards my face.

Amateurs, really, though it was to be expected. The punch had little force behind it, using only his chest muscles as opposed to the entirely of his body by putting his entire weight behind the strike. With his undeveloped muscles, it wouldn't take much to stop him. Not to mention he didn't even punch straight, curling his arm to the side as if he was avoiding my nonexistent guard. By angling his fist, he subconsciously leaned to the side, shifting this weight almost entirely on one foot.

I pivoted to the side, letting the arm glide past me. Grasping onto the overextended limb with both hands, I used his own momentum and lack of balance against him, spinning him around and launching him towards the space between the two other boys with a slightly reinforced push.

The other two had remained standing in the initial positions, did nothing as their friend flew past them and flopping down onto the ground into another mud puddle.

They feebly looked at each other before coming to some sort of silent agreement before slowly advancing on me with measured steps.

In response, I stood still, perfectly content to let them come to me.

With a cry of exertion, the one on the left quickly charged at me, taking one step and twisting his body as his other leg rose towards me. I ducked underneath it, my small stature coming in useful as I felt the hairs on my head graze his leg. However, just before it could completely pass over me, I grabbed his foot. The boy awkwardly shuffled around on the sole foot on the ground, fruitlessly trying to break my grip on his leg. With almost contemptuous ease as well as a slight application of magecraft, I spun him back around and pushed him backwards. He finally planted both feet on the ground, but due to my shove, he couldn't properly regain his balance, instead stumbling forwards and straight into the first boy, who had just recovered from my counterattack. Not expecting his friend to barrel into him, both of them ended up in a tangle of limbs as they both fell over into the mud puddle.

I looked at the last boy, who was suddenly looking a lot less confident.

"Uh, whatever, let's just go guys!" he said to the boys behind him.

"Hell no! We at least tried. Get in there!"

"Yeah man, you totally got this!"

Cringing at the responses, he looked back at me, then back at his friends, then back to me. Muttering some sounded like some kind of prayer, he slowly moved towards me, eyeing his movements carefully.

A part of me was almost affronted.

Closing the distance, he stepped forward and threw a punch—at least this one was straight—but just like the previous time, I pivoted and let it go past me. Before I could grab it, he quickly retracted the limb and cocked back his other arm, sending another strike. Almost like I was seeing it in slow motion, I lazily raised my own arm to parry his limb, slapping it to the side. Before he could recover, I casually kicked out his leg with my own, watching him fall down to one knee in front of me. With the same arm that stopped his attack, I reached forwards and firmly grasped his skull with my hand. Due to my small hand size, I only barely managed to cover the front of his head, seeing the boy's wide eyes fearfully look at me through the gaps of my fingers.

At the same time, I saw a familiar rock head towards me, the same one that I had blocked earlier. Quickly looking, I saw one of the bullies in a throwing position, having just launched the stone at me. The mud-caked projectile flew towards me, threatening to split my head open. With my free hand, I caught it almost like a baseball, letting my reinforced hand absorb the impact. It looked far too large for my hand, which made it perfect for what I had in mind.

I slowly brought the rock towards my other arm, making sure to let the boy who I still held by the skull see it. With a flex of magecraft-enhanced muscles, I crushed the offending object in my hand, scattering dust and small pebbles everywhere.

If it were possible, the boy's eyes widened even further, and I could see the beginnings of tears gathering—oh god what was that smell?. He started screaming hysterically, but his cries were muffled by my hand.

I looked at the one in front of me and then at the other two across from me, who were in similar states of distraught and disbelief. "I trust you all have been persuaded?" Receiving three panicked nods, I continued, "then leave. And make sure this doesn't happen again in the future." I let go of the boy I was holding and turned around, trusting that they would quickly run off. Instead, I gave my full attention to the girl behind me, who was looking at me with a fearful expression.

My lips curl upwards to defuse her anxiety. "Sorry I took so long. Now then, I'm guessing you can't walk?" I asked, gesturing towards her sprained ankle.

"Y-Y-Yes…" she said, meekly nodding.

"I see."

This situation was an unfortunate predicament. I didn't really know any medical magecraft or any healing magic of this world. My skillset was a bit more…specific.

"Oh, I have an idea," I said, snapping my fingers in realization. "I know a healer who can probably fix your ankle. If you would like, I can take you to her." I distinctly recall Zenith's healing magic she used on me when I was younger. I know she said not to be a busybody helping others, but surely she would take exception to this, right?

"U-Uh yes…that would be good…"

Not much of a talker, huh? She almost reminded me of Sakura.

"Hmm, you can't walk, so would you be comfortable with me carrying you?"

A heavy blush adorned her small pale cheeks.

"C-C-Carry me?!" she stammered out. "I-I-I-I'm not s-s-s-sure…"

"Well, I can't really leave you here while I go get help. Those boys might come back," I pointed out. "It might take some time, but I can build a cart of some sorts. I just need to gather some wood in the forest," I suggested. Making a rudimentary hand-pulled cart shouldn't be difficult. I could change the shape of any sticks I find using alteration and patch them together with reinforcement. I think.

"U-Um…that might be too difficult…" she denied.

"Mhm, then we're at an impasse." What else could I use? Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could recall Saber's memories and trace that flying golden ship she said Gilgamesh used during the fourth war? Nah, that seemed a bit excessive, even if it was possible for me. I might as well have announced that I was abnormal to everyone within a ten kilometer radius. Did I have a flying sword I recorded somewhere? Hmm, this would require some meditation.

"Um…it's fine…You can just leave me…"

"No."

Well, this left me quite stumped. For once, I wished Berserker were here. Illya did say he could turn into a car, and while I thought she was joking, it was always hard to tell with her…

"Um," she started, suddenly finding the ground next to her far more interesting. "You…You can carry me..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you."

"It's…it's fine. Just please be gentle..."

"Of course," I answered. I knelt, facing my back towards her. She leaned forward, tentatively placing her hands onto my shoulders. I slowly stood up, making sure not to startle her, though I still felt her grip tighten almost painfully. I hooked each of my arms underneath her thighs and slouched forwards. "You okay?"

"I'm...I'm fine. Are…Are you sure you can carry me all the way?"

"There's a stream on the other side of that hill," I said, nodding towards the path I came from. "We can take a short break there to clean you. It's about halfway to my house, so I should be fine." We were the same height, so carrying her was a bit awkward. Normally I wouldn't have the strength or stamina to do so in this body, but I could discretely reinforce my body slightly to take most of the strain. This could serve as good practice for my magecraft anyway. "Ready?"

She nodded, and I slowly started marching back towards my house.

"So, what's your name?" I asked, trying to break the silence between us.

"I'm…Sylphiette," she quietly said, though I nearly missed the second syllable in her name.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sylphiette, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I'm Emiya Shirou," I introduced.

"Emiya Shirou?" she repeated.

"Errrr, I mean Shirou Greyrat," I corrected sheepishly. I was still used to introducing myself using my former family name first. This was the first time I actually introduced myself to another person in this world. "Sorry, I was just playing around, giving myself cool names, you know?" I think that's something people my age did.

Thankfully, Sylphiette seemed to buy my poor excuse.

"S-Shirou, then…" she confirmed.

Unfortunately, the conversation died at that, and the awkward silence returned, the rift between us growing even larger. It was to be expected since I was never good with words. Add in my unique status, and it was a recipe for these uncomfortable situations. Still, I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable due to my poor conversational ability, so I tried to channel my inner Tohsaka and use social skills I didn't have.

"Um Shirou, why…why did you help me?" Ah, it seemed that I wouldn't need to take the initiative after all.

"Because there's nothing wrong with helping others," I firmly answered, like I had so many times in the past.

"Even…even someone like me?"

I glanced at her questioningly.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with you?" There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her from my perspective. Maybe a bit shy and timid, but there was nothing wrong with that. Oh god, was she actually going to drag me to hell?

"That…That I might be a demon…"

She subconsciously clenched harder onto my shoulders.

"Might? Are you not sure if you're a demon?"

"I…I don't know," she said. "My dad is half-elf, half-human, and my mom is mostly human, but she may be part beastman too." Beastman? I can't recall anyone mentioning that term to me before. Judging from the context, beastman was a race of people in this world. Unfortunately, my knowledge of this world was still fairly lacking due to my lack of a proper education. If I wanted to blend it, I needed to familiarize myself with these terms quickly before I get lost in conversations.

"Well, it looks like you're mostly human, at least genetically," I consoled.

"But that's not true!" she fervently denied, speaking up for the first time since I've met her. Almost as if she made some sort of mistake, she looked away embarrassedly. "That…can't be true…" she said, returning to her quiet tone.

"Why not?"

I heard a sniffle, one became two, and before long, Sylphiette was sobbing uncontrollably, tears running down her face and dampening the back of my shirt. She planted her face into my back, covering it with tears and mucus, but I paid it no mind. I was about to tell her she didn't need to continue, but Sylphiette decided to keep going.

"My hair…it's not the same as my parents. It's the same colors as a Superd's…" Another term I didn't recognize. "And my ears…my ears are longer than my dad's. My dad…he says I'm not a demon, b-but I'm nothing like him or mom…"

I remained silent, giving her a pensive him while taking in all the information she said. Looking at her again, she did have large elven ears instead of human ones, so I guess she was a demon after all? Grouping elves with demons was a bit strange to me, but from what she was saying, it sounded like elves are a subset of demons, who seemed to be discriminated against. "Well, Sylphiette, I can't say I know what it's like to be looked down upon for being a demon, but I do know a thing or two about being different from your parents."

"…Really…?"

"It's true," I said. "See this?" I held up a lock of my auburn hair for her to see. "My parents are Zenith and Paul. Paul is the knight assigned to here, so you may have heard of him."

"I…I think I heard his name once or twice from my father."

"Yeah, he has brown hair. Zenith has blonde hair. As you can see, I inherited neither of their hair colors."

"W-Wow…"

Sensing her doubt decrease slightly, I continued, "My eyes as well. They're golden-brown, but Paul and Zenith have green and blue eyes. There's almost no hint of a family resemblance in me."

"D-Doesn't…doesn't that make things confusing?"

"Yeah," I said. "Paul…he's not particularly happy about it. It's been a source of some tension in the family. He accused Zenith of cheating. Things—"I grimaced"—got bad. There were a lot of arguments. Loud ones too."

"T-That's horrible!" she gasped.

"It's an unfortunate situation," I agreed. "Zenith's not the type of person who have an affair, so I'm confident that I'm their genetic child. Still, I can understand Paul's hesitance. Unlike Zenith, he didn't directly give birth to me, so he can only take her word for it. The truth is something only Zenith knows. He can have all the faith in the world, but in the end, all it takes is the smallest drop of doubt, the faintest sign of insincerity for it to snowball into something ugly," I said.

"That's…that's so sad though…"

I shrugged. "It is what it is. Life"—memories of blood and fire flickered through my mind—"isn't always pretty."

Sylphiette frowned, her eyes cast downwards with a troubled expression. I mentally berated myself for talking too much. I never was a good talker, and I didn't have much regard for the mood of a room nor how my words could affect others. It was a trait many people in my past life told me about, but I never was able to fix it. In this case, it was especially bad since I completely forgot that I was talking to a child, someone who had no experience with life's ugliness.

"I mean—at least that's what I've heard," I hastily added.

Sylphiette's downcast mood perservered through my words, the poor girl not comforted all despite my efforts. At this point, all I could do was try and shift the topic of the conversation while lamenting about what kind of Hero of Justice makes a little girl cry during their first meeting.

"Regardless, just like how Zenith maintained to Paul that I'm his son, you should believe your father that you're her daughter. If he says you're not a demon, then you're not. Trust your family, Sylphiette." They're one of the few bright spots in life, I mentally added, but I didn't need to burden her with more philosophical rambling.

"R-Really? You…You trust your family, Shirou?"

"I—"the words stuck in my throat before I could say them aloud"—I'd be a fool to distrust them at this point. They've fed, clothed, and sheltered me all this time. I'd be a poor excuse of a child if I didn't reciprocate those feelings."

She glanced at me with a strange expression, and I almost facepalmed. I really had to start talking like the child. What kind of four year-old knew what "reciprocate" meant?

"Anyway, sorry for asking, but what's wrong with being a demon?"

"I…I don't know. I'm just…different from them, I guess. And hair makes me look like a Superd, so people…think I'm evil," she meekly explained.

"Superd?"

"You…don't know who the Superd are?" Sylphiette looked at me in surprise, and the shock seemed so great that she wasn't pausing or tripping over her words.

"Sorry, my education is lacking, to say the least," I admitted sheepishly.

Sylphiette's face twisted with discomfort, and she fell back into silence. Sensing that this was a sensitive topic, I didn't bother pressing her and kept walking forwards.

"The Superd, they're…they're evil…They went crazy and killed everyone in the war four hundred years ago. There's some still alive, I think. They…they kidnap all the bad kids and take their time eating them, m-making sure they d-d-die as slowly as possible. Everyone hates them…" she trailed off, but I grasped the gist of it, gruesome and exaggerated stories aside. It seemed like the Superd were some evil demons in the past that slaughtered everyone, uniting the world against them in hatred. Still, my curiosity couldn't help but question what happened. Was their bloodlust so strong that they lost control themselves? Hmm, Lancer certainly would've loved to fight against them, though I doubt they would have gotten along. Killing me aside, Lancer had a certain honor to him. He was certainly no Archer.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't think you're a Superd at all, Sylphiette."

She noticeably perked up at that.

"Y-You…you mean that?" For once, the girl didn't exude an aura of depression. Her emerald eyes glimmered with hope, matching the bright afternoon sun in the sky, and they were focused entirely on me, her expression practically screaming that they were hanging onto my next words, to an almost uncomfortable degree.

"Y-Yeah, seriously. All I see is a little girl. You're entirely too good for this world, Sylphiette," I said, meaning every word. I hadn't known her for very long, but her innocence was a breath of fresh air. But I knew the darkness of life, and I knew that it would crush that faint light into nothingness. I've seen it happen before, and imagining it happen to Sylphiette brought a bitter taste to my mouth. "Unless you're using this injury to get close and eat me?" I joked, trying to alleviate the mood a bit.

Her face blushed a bright crimson.

"N-N-No I'm not!"

"Then you're not a Superd. Don't listen to what those people say. They don't know anything," I said.

Sylphiette quieted down, and I could feel her considering my words. Not eager to interrupt her pondering, I continued marching forwards in silence. At this rate, we should arrive at the stream in twenty minutes or so.

"It's…it's that simple?"

"Would you rather believe your family and I or a bunch of bullies?" I asked.

"My…My family…a-and you…"

"Then there's your answer," I said.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Her eyebrows were raised, and her lips were agape and parted in an expression of surprise and disbelief at my candor.

"I…see..."

Slowly, her expression changed, insecurity and doubt slowly melting into a face of serenity and peace. There were still some small hints of unease, but the storm of emotions that clouded over her seemed to largely have settled. The afternoon wind picked up, and her short golden-green locks jovially danced in the refreshing breeze. Her dainty mouth was curved upwards into a gentle smile, and I couldn't help but think she looked far better with it than that despondent face she had earlier.

"S-S-Shirou?!"

Whoops, I said that aloud again.

"Uh, sorry about that," I apologized, awkwardly laughing at my own mistake.

The conversation halted to a stop once again at that point, but this time, the ensuing silence lacked the uncomfortable from before. Sylphiette's eyes—were they always that bright?—were cast straight ahead, lost in her own musings, but from the subtle curve of her lips, her spirits weren't dampened in the slightest.

"Shirou," she spoke up, cutting through the quiet tranquility of our walk.

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for believing in me." I took in her words, which were so similar to ones I had been given in the past, and my chest tightened at the memories they evoked.

"You're welcome, Sylphiette."

Satisfied at helping alleviate her anxiety, I walked forwards. We didn't speak for the rest of the way, at least not until we emerged from the forest. Down the hill was a small river that cut through the village. It was the village's primary water source, and I've made many trips to it many times by the basinful for laundry and drinking.

"Down there, Sylphiette. We can wash you there," I said, pointing down to the stream.

Careful to make sure I didn't stumble and give Sylphiette any more injuries, I slowly walked over to the river shore.

"And there," I said, gently depositing her onto a sitting position. "Here, let's take off your cloak." I tugged on her cloak, which was more brown than white at this point. Sylphiette seemed to understand what I wanted, taking off the large piece of clothing and holding it up to me. Grabbing it from her, I took it to the river and immediately submerged it into the crystal clear water. I frowned; the mud had long since dried, so it wasn't coming off easily from the cloth. This would need a bit of effort.

"So, what were you doing out here in the first place?" I asked while scrubbing the cloak against itself underwater.

"My…My dad is part of the village defense. He's, um, at the watchtower near the forest today, so I was going to bring him lunch, but I a-accidentally dropped the basket while I was running…" she informed.

"Because of those boys that bullied you on the way there," I finished for her.

"R-Right…"

"And this has happened before?"

"Y-Yes," she said, and my heart sunk with her words. Unseen to her, my cleaning of the cloak suddenly increased in intensity, almost as if I were mauling the poor piece of cloth with my hands. My knuckles were white, and from my reflection on the water, I could tell that see my eyes smoldering in with embers of anger reminiscent of the flames of my birth.

I let out a long exhale, trying to douse the fire in my chest, before considering my next words. "Do you usually deliver food to your father every day?"

"N-Not every day…but usually, y-yes..."

I hummed in thought.

"Alright, I got it," I announced, craning my head back at Sylphiette to tell her of what I had in mind. Almost immediately, she averted her eyes from me, suddenly keenly observing the trees off to the side with a faint blush of her cheeks. "Since this is something that happens often, we'll need to take steps to stop this."

"W-We…?"

"Yes, we," I affirmed.

"But Shirou…they'll tell their friends to stay away from you. They'll be mean to you too!" Sylphiette protested, suddenly whipping their head back at me with wide, trembling eyes.

I almost scoffed at the image of myself crying because prepubescent children didn't want to play with me. "I'll be fine, Sylphiette. Trust me, I'm not particularly social anyway, so I don't mind being excluded from the rest of the village children. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I assured.

Unfortunately, the elf-human girl in front of me didn't seemed appeased in the slightest.

"B-But who's going to play with you?!" she cried out.

I at least had the decency to scratch my cheek in embarrassment. "I…don't exactly play with other people—or play at all for that matter," I added.

"You…don't play? Uh, what do you do all day, then?" she questioned.

I pursed my lips in contemplation. Truthfully, my current life wasn't particularly exciting—at least in comparison to the Holy Grail War, though perhaps "exciting" was not the proper term to use there. The days themselves weren't anything of note. It was more of what happened over time in the grander scheme of things that provided some sort of marker to gauge how time has passed. For example, the relationship between all the members of the Greyrat household had definitely changed over time and gave a sense of progress to this life with Zenith and Lilia's budding friendship and Zenith's earlier lecture being the most recent developments. Other than that, my daily life was fairly mundane. Days melded into each other with little distinguishing themselves from the ones that recently came before nor the ones immediately after.

"I help out around the house," I said, deciding on a harmless answer. "I cook meals, help do laundry, maintain the general cleanliness of the house, accompany Zenith whenever she meets with the other villagers…" I listed off absentmindedly.

Contrary to my nonchalant attitude, Sylphiette looked absolutely appalled at my choice of daily activities. Her dumbfounded expression made it seem like she was doing her best fish impression: her eyes were wide and unfocused ahead of her in a million-yard state, and her mouth was slack jawed, repeatedly trying to close itself to no avail.

When managed to reboot, her eyes rapidly fluttering open and closed until they regained their usual emerald glint, which almost instantly focused on me.

"S-Shirou, surely you do more than that!" she cried passionately, and I blinked in surprised as she startled me with her random intensity.

"Sorry, but like I said, I don't really play," I shrugged. Sylphiette frowned at my dismissive mindset, and I turned back to the river to continue washing her cloak.

"I…I have an idea. S-Since you don't have anyone to play with…you and me…we can…play…together..." The suggestion was so out of character that I almost lost my balance kneeling on the river shore, and it took me waving my arms around to regain my steadiness before I could take an unplanned dive into the river.

"S-Shirou?" she called out behind me.

"I'm fine," I said, standing back up. I wringed out the excess water from the cloak and turned around with the damp cloth in hand. "And as for your idea, the problem isn't that I don't have people to play with, just that I'm not that kind of person." I got on my knees in front of her, and from my position, our head were level and fairly close to each other, separating by only ten or so centimeters. In response, her pale cheeks flushed scarlet, and she became as still as a statue. "Sorry, but we don't have a towel, so we need to improvise. Don't worry, I'll clean it again afterwards," I said, bringing the wet cloak to her mud-marred face.

"O-Okay…" Thankfully, Sylphiette was fairly cooperative, letting me handle the cleaning process. There was dirt all over her head, soiling the pretty face underneath, and the thought of what those boys did to her ignited my anger for a brief moment before I squashed it lest I accidentally hurt Sylphiette by being too rough with her.

I started with her eyes. There seemed to be an unusual concentration of mud there, and from what I remember from the boys' words, they were explicitly targeting that area. Careful with the pressure I used, I took the makeshift towel and pressed it into the splotches of dirt near her brow, satisfied at how it dissolved fairly easily. Sylphiette instinctively closed her eyes, and I took the opportunity to dab at more stains on her eyelids.

Due to the rather personal nature of my cleaning, we were quite close to each other. I didn't think too much of it, but Sylphiette clearly was somewhat uncomfortable with it. I could feel her quivering in nervousness from my touch and close proximity.

"Sorry. It'll just be a bit longer," I quietly apologized to her.

"N-No, that's not the problem…"

I hummed in acknowledgement, but I didn't really believe her. At least the shivering seemed to lessen though. The cloak glided across her skin just a bit faster, eager to finish the job and get this over with.

"Mhmm…"

Of course, it would have gone a lot faster if Sylphiette wasn't trying to lean into my touch, emanating deep sounds of approval in the meanwhile. It seemed like she was subconsciously doing it too, since it looked like she was almost sleeping. It was distracting enough to the point that I had to gently hold her by the chin, preventing her head of swaying and making my job harder, though it had the unfortunate side effect of snapping Sylphiette out of her dreamlike state, eyes flying open instantly. Oh, and there was that shaking again…

After an uncomfortably long time, I eventually finished cleaning her face. Compared to before, where the grime and dirt had made it seemed like she walked out of one of those mud mask facial treatments on Earth, her face was now completely clear, showing off the young and soft skin I had seen glimpses of.

"And done," I said, letting go of her and backing up from her. Sylphiette brought one arm up, tentatively touching her cheeks to feel around for any mud left. Finding nothing, she beamed gratefully at me.

"T-Thank you, Shirou…"

"You're welcome," I waved off. "Moreover, we still need to do something with your hair," I pointed out, gesturing to the mud-crusted strands of green on her head. Going back to the river, I quickly soaked the cloak underwater, scrubbing it clean.

"…Trace, on…"

Whispering to myself, I utilized my magecraft once again. Once again, I had to be discrete about it, purposely making sure that my arms were underwater and out of her sight. A burst of magical energy and blue light later, I was holding one of Zenith's wooden kitchen bowls.

It was a pathetic thing, hollow and fragile. There were no memories embedded into it, and my image and visualization of the bowl was spotty at best. It was only imitation of the shape, nothing more. My overspecialization didn't allow me to create many things besides weapons very well—it was called Unlimited Blade Works, not Unlimited Kitchenware Works—but for something as mundane as a bowl, my lack of skill wouldn't be too much of an issue here. I only needed it for a very specific task.

"Look, Sylphiette, I found something," I called out to her, holding up the wooden bowl in my hand. "It seems like someone left it here for some reason."

"…Um…okay…"

I wasn't too sure if she bought the admittedly poor excuse. Her shyness made it difficult to discern whether she was being quiet due to her disbelief at such as terrible lie, or if it was just her usual personality coming through.

Regardless, as long as she didn't believe that I was a multi-dimensional possibly-alien traveler, I was fine with her suspicions.

Filling the bowl with water, I walked over to her. "Just lean back. This won't take long." Sylphiette did as I said, leaning back and supporting herself on both elbows while tilting head back as far as possible. Holding up the container above her head, I slung her cloak over my shoulder to free my right hand and slowly poured the water onto her hair. The crystal-clear water proved just as effective with cleaning her hair, washing away the clumps of mud that had dried during our walk. With my free hand, I tenderly ran my fingers through the short length of her hair, gingerly prying apart any clumps.

"You're lucky your hair is so short. If you had longer hair, this would have taken a while," I noted. If Sylphiette had grown her hair to her ankles like Rider, it would have taken more than a bowl of water to wash that mess. Then again, if Sylphiette had cared for her hair as much as Rider, it would not have gotten dirty in the first place because those boys would not be alive to throw mud at it.

"R-Really?"

"It's true. Longer hair may look better to some people, but shorter hair like yours is much easier to maintain and more practical," I explained.

"…Practical…What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, for example, in combat, shorter hair is far harder to take advantage of," I said. I softly gripped a handful of her verdant locks to illustrate my next point. "You have to reach very far to grab onto it. In battle, overextending like that can be costly," I explained.

"Like…that boy earlier…He tried to punch you…but his balance wasn't very good…I think?" she quietly said, looking up at me questioningly.

I smirked in approval. "Good eye," I praised, and Sylphiette instantly averted her eyes away from me. I continued my lecture on battle tactics while washing her hair. "It's not quite the same, but the thought process is close enough. Your hair doesn't present many openings to grab it, so people won't even try it in the first place. And even if they did grab it, you can escape it relatively easily since they can't really wrap your hair around their fingers for a better grip, though it'd be even harder if it were shorter."

Sylphiette gazed up at me with a glint of…something in her eye. "…So, I should cut it more then…?"

Ah, it appeared that Tohsaka rubbed off on me more than I thought.

"Oh, don't mind me," I laughed embarrassedly, "You can do whatever you want with your hair, Sylphiette." I assured. "I was just rambling like usual."

"O-Okay…but w-what do you prefer, S-Shirou?" she suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"…Hair…Longer or…shorter…?"

A curled eyebrow rose on my forehead. A girl asking for my advice on fashion? Had I given my suggestions to Tohsaka, she would've taken my advice personally, and not in the good way.

"Short hair is objectively better, I guess"—Sylphiette's eyes glimmered in happiness—"but…"

I thought back to all the women in my previous life. They all had relatively long hair, especially Rider. Even Saber had longer hair that what could be classified as "short", though she chose to wear it in a bun at all times.

"…But…?"

"Well, you could make an argument that I prefer longer hair," I hesitantly said. "But what brought this on?"

"N-Nothing…!" she yelped out.

"I…see…" I trailed off uncertainly. "Regardless, short or long hair, it doesn't matter."

"I-It doesn't…?" she asked bemusedly.

The steady stream of water from the bowl finally stopped, trinkling down to tiny droplets. I brushed my fingers through her strands one final time, relieved that such a mesmerizing shade of green was finally clean of the dirt that tarnished it.

Standing back up, I placed the bowl off to the side, noting to myself to dismiss it later.

"Simple. You're perfect the way you are, Sylphiette." I stood in front of her, holding out my handinvitingly. She still wasn't meeting my eyes, preferring to look at the ground with a dark blush adorning her cheeks. "And whatever hair you have, you have my word that no one will be able to lay a hand on it," I promised.

Sylphiette remained silent, though I could see her eyes slowly coming up to glance at me out of the corner of her eyes before darting back to the side. After a pregnant pause, she nodded to herself, as if she were committing to a decision, and her hand rose, higher and higher, until she placed it firmly in mine. I gently gripped her hand, turning around and kneeling down while guiding her towards my back. Pushing off her good foot, she placed herself onto my back like before. I held on to her thighs, standing back up and giving her a moment to adjust. Sylphiette pressed herself against my back, draping her arms over my shoulders and wrapping them around my collarbone until they circled my neck. She brought her head next to mine, resting her chin on my shoulder as her viridescent locks tickled my neck.

"Comfortable?" I looked next to me in confirmation.

Sylphiette was being meek as usual, though her gaze cast forward, and I could see a gleam of confidence seeping into her eyes.

Good. Frankly, the girl needed it, though I had to wonder where it came from.

"…Yes…"

Nodding in acknowledgement, we set off without another word, a comfortable silence settling between us as we started the journey back to the Greyrat household.

---

It was a familiar sight.

"So, when I said to go outside and play while not helping anybody, what do you think I meant?"

I suppose that my life wouldn't be complete without a bunch of people, usually women, being outright pissed as me.

"Master Shirou has always been exceptionally stubborn and is prone to ignoring suggestions, at the cost of himself even."

Really, who could have foreseen this?

"…You're all overreacting. Somal was fine. Shirou didn't do anything wrong."

It must have been a cold day in hell if Paul of all people was defending me.

"He got into a fight, Paul. Take this seriously."

From Zenith of all people. Now I really don't understand what's going on with him.

"They weren't really hurt, Zenith, unless you're counting the emotional damage from being tossed around by someone half their size?"

"He still shouldn't have been in a fight!"

"At least we agree on that."

In a rare occurrence, the two actually came to an accord, prying their gazes from each other and directing them at me.

When I had arrived with Sylphiette in tow, the three residents of the house were standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the entrance to the house, barring my entry and forcing me to confront them.

Surprisingly, the group had not been on the verge of imploding. Zenith's face was set in an angry scowl, and her arms were crossed, only accentuated by the rapid tapping of her foot against the ground. However, for once, her fury wasn't towards her husband to her side. Paul, in contrast, was nonchalantly leaning against the guardrail of the porch. His cool, unconcerned demeanor wasn't deterred in the slightest from Zenith's fiery words and attitude. And finally, Lilia was on Zenith's other side, her expression stoic as always.

Honestly, if this is what it took to bring the Greyrats together, I couldn't help but think that it would be something to consider in the future.

"You should hear him out first," Lilia advised.

Zenith nodded in agreement, swiveling her glare back at me. Her gaze paused for a slight moment on the passenger on my back, and her eyes quickly narrowed at the injury to her foot. Considering her adventuring experience, I had no doubt that she had already assessed Sylphiette's sprained ankle and decided it wasn't anything to be worried about. She placed her hands on her hips instead, and I couldn't help but be reminded of Saber doing that exact pose in exasperation while lecturing me on my suicidal tendencies.

"Well, Shirou, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Somehow, a part of me would've preferred that instead.

---

A/N: And that's a wrap. Sylphiette will be joining us early. Due to Shirou hiding his magic (and actually knowing how to use it), Roxy and Sylphiette are basically switching in terms of when they get added to the plot.

Truthfully, I'm not particularly happy with this chapter. I didn't even plan to release it today, but I've been staring at it for more than a week now, and due to my inexperience as a writer, I can't really figure out specifically what's wrong and how to fix it. It was only recently that I realized that you, my dear readers, actually give me constructive feedback judging from my last chapter, so I'll let you guys sort that out. Go nuts. Feel free to flame me. I play League—I can handle it.

Anyways, there have been two main things from reviews I wanted to address, so I'll just answer them here. If you want to things to be a surprise, you're more than welcome to skip it.

Q: Will Rudeus be appearing in this story?

A: No, mainly because I already have my hands full trying to juggle Shirou's character and everyone else's. There's no way I can do Rudeus justice with my current writing ability.

Q: Which Shirou is this?

A: None of them. The prologue chapter was written using the end of Heaven's Feel, but it's solely for plot purposes. Characterization wise, this Shirou is some weird amalgamation of all three routes. My intention for this story was to make a Shirou who started his character development in the F/SN universe but finishes it in another world. In this case, it's Mushoku Tensei since the world building is pretty dope, so I felt it had potential.

I think the best way to explain this Shirou is UBW!Shirou but instead of Rin being the romantic lead, it's the main heroines plus Illya and Rider. From UBW, Rin was the one trying to "correct" Shirou into being a more normal person, vowing to guide him as he pursued his ideals. Just replace Rin with the harem. Obviously, this doesn't pan out, so Shirou is left trying to be a Hero of Justice after having everyone die. It's mostly not his fault, but as we all know, that doesn't really stop Shirou from blaming himself. Now, he's in another world doing what Shirou does best, but there will be a time when his ideals and reality conflict. As per his fight with Archer, he's "ready" for it, but obviously saying and doing something are two different things, and this time, he won't have Rin to be his support.

I think that just about covers it. Another thing to note: I'm trying decently hard to strike a balance between showing and telling. If you notice some details in the story, please point them out! That way I can adjust my writing to be more or less subtle. Having characterization details is cool, but if they over people's heads due to my inexperience, there's no point.

Speaking of details, if I mess up any lore details, either from the F/SN or MT side, tell me. I try to keep everything as natural as possible. Hell, that kitchen scene at the beginning took me a solid 15 minute of perusing through the LNs to find any details that might contradict my writing.

One final, minor thing: I used honorifics last chapter, but I'll probably just forgo them altogether from now on. I changed Lilia last chapter to reflect that. The only place it should appear is when Shirou talks about Taiga, but that can easily be excused since it's his mental thought process as opposed to saying it aloud. The LN doesn't use honorifics in speech, so I'll just stick to that.

Anyways, that's all for me. Next chapter (probably) won't take as long since I'm off from school, though I don't think it will be as long as this one either (16k before the A/N). Thank you for reading, and, as always, I hope you're having a good day.