Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head.
Thanks to Sherlock for beta reading and everyone on p atreon for their support/illustration votes.
X
It would have been impossible to tell that it was half past midnight. The library at the centre of the school had no windows, and was as such incredibly well-lit to make up for it. Dozens of students were rushing around even at this hour, likely making last minute advancements on their research or projects.
Emiya Shirou was doing no such thing. He was seated at one of the public tables, alone, though that had more to do with everyone else being a recluse than a lack of interest in this space.
He was glaring intently at a dissertation open on his digital tablet, though 'dissertation' might have been too kind a word to describe a document that had barely been peer-reviewed. It was a strange thing. Incredibly niche. Surely there would be more general analyses to follow, but this was the first to broach such a new subject; the paper in question had only come out that week.
The Infinite Stratos as it Applies to the Academic Field of Mineralogy, was the title of the work.
Mineralogy wasn't his main interest, admittedly, though knowing a few people in the department was how he found out that someone else around here was even bothering to look into that thing. Even still, it was disappointing.
Any mention of the Infinite Stratos was surface level at best. How could it not be? No one knew what it really was; what it could really do.
No one but Shinonono.
He clenched his fist.
This is pointless.
There was no reason for him to be here. Trying to research the thing was futile. In the meantime, there was real damage being done in the real world.
Countries had already rolled out their test pilot programs. The Infinite Stratos machine was everywhere.
But strangely, they didn't seem to be as effective as the Shirokishi.
Could it be a difference in talent, then? It would mean that not all Infinite Stratos were equal as there was skill involved.
If so… the Shirokishi's pilot was something else. The true pinnacle. The hero of—
He clicked his tongue and stood up.
No.
The fact of the matter was that he was running out of time. He had to leave this place and take action. Where there was trouble in the world, he'd be there to take care of it.
Because that's what a Hero of Justice would do.
X
X
Shirou's eyes opened unceremoniously at five in the morning, just as they did every other day.
And, just like every other day, he calmly turned his head to the left and soaked in his wife's sleeping face.
Just like every other day, her hair was a complete mess. She refused to wear any sort of night cap; her long, black locks were thrown about wildly.
A hand was raised from under the covers. It first pulled out a strand of her hair that got caught between his lips sometime during the night, then its fingers combed their way through the side of her head, revealing her forehead to him.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he kissed her gently between the eyes before rolling himself onto his feet.
The blinds were still closed—as they would be for a while longer: Chifuyu would open them herself—but he could tell that the sunrise was still young. The days were still short at this time of year.
He made his way downstairs, keeping in mind that he would have to inspect the AC unit to make sure everything was running properly before the warmer weather came around.
Shirou slipped out the back door to check the weather; he took a deep breath as the cold morning air bit at his skin. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxers, but his body was used to low temperatures and their backyard offered enough privacy for him to not mind his state of dress too much.
He'd grab a hoodie, then. It wouldn't do to catch a cold.
It was another five minutes before he was out of the house for his morning jog.
It was one of the most therapeutic parts of his day. He could just clear his mind; he didn't have to think about anything. His body and heart felt at peace as his breathing was controlled and his blood was pumping.
He toured the neighbourhood on his usual route, waving politely to those that passed him by. There were quite a few, surprisingly, be it those that had early commutes to work or housewives that were desperate for time to themselves with young children running around the house.
His mind stilled for a moment, but those thoughts were thrown to the back of his mind for now.
He got back home and took a quick shower downstairs. He checked the time: only a quarter past six. Still plenty of time.
The first thing that he did once he got to the kitchen was open the fridge and grab the marinated salmon he had left overnight, then the usual: the container of miso paste he had on the go and the fresh pack of tofu he bought the other day.
He quickly peered inside of the miso paste container to confirm what he already knew: there was plenty.
The man nodded to himself.
Okay.
He made note of things that he would use as he saw them in the pantry.
Kombu, bonito flakes, dried mushroom, green onions… Eggs and veggies, too.
The man rinsed the rice that he'd need for the meals to come—three cups, about—and turned on the rice cooker. He had half an hour to prepare everything else.
He changed the water in the espresso machine and ground enough coffee for breakfast.
Pots, knives and cutting boards were taken out; he got started.
Midway through his preparation, he heard the creaking of floorboards and turned around to find his wife, still half-asleep, trudging toward the table. He gave her a tiny smile before getting back to what was in front of him.
"Good morning," he greeted her over his shoulder.
"...Morning," she mumbled. The woman clearly wasn't all there yet; as usual, it took her a moment to figure out how to pull the chair out for herself. "I smell salmon."
"You do," he confirmed. "Five more minutes?"
She mumbled something or other. In the meantime, he took the milk carafe out of the fridge and her mug from the cupboard. Not long after, her coffee was placed beside her.
The sleepy woman peered into the cup and mustered a pleasant chuckle.
"A swan?" she asked, admiring the latte art. "You're getting better at that."
He blushed a little at the praise, rubbing the back of his head.
"You think so? I've had time to practise."
She suddenly pulled him into a side hug and buried her face into his waist.
"Can I stay home today?" she asked, her voice muffled by his obliques. "There's nothing important going on. I can ask for a substitute."
Her husband patted her on the side of the head placatingly. He had an amused look on his face.
"Isn't your brother having the fight?"
"Mm," she acknowledged reluctantly.
He pulled away. Chifuyu was content to sip away at her latte while he plated their food. When he came back with the dish, she admired the traditional Japanese breakfast silently, as she always did.
Shirou was amazing and she wouldn't hear anything to the contrary. He insisted that it only took about as long as it did for the rice to cook, and yet the outcome was this.
Her working theory was that he was a morning person and morning people were just better at things.
They ate in comfortable silence. Nothing was said because nothing needed to be said. They did their best to enjoy each other's company before they split up to go about their day.
Shirou walked her to the door. Her bento was handed to her and he leaned in to peck her on the lips; she held him in place so that she could kiss him a little longer.
His smile was as beautiful to her this morning as it was yesterday and every day before then.
"Come home safely," he told her. " I'll see you tonight."
"Mm. I'll be going, then," she answered before taking off. He watched his wife head out the door then quickly turned around and got started on the chores for the day.
First, tidying the house.
It wouldn't take long; the house was always kept in good condition and there was hardly ever an occasion in which a big mess was made. He started with the kitchen, cleaning his tools and countertop. There weren't any leftovers, so nothing had to be packed up.
Then he went upstairs and worked in the bathroom, scrubbing the tub and corners where mould might form, then moved on to the bedroom and living room, dusting furniture and vacuuming the floor.
By the time he got through everything, two hours had passed. Next, he'd do his workout then plan out dinner.
Before he could, the doorbell rang.
Shirou was caught off guard momentarily but went to answer the door.
"Hello?"
A deliveryman nodded politely.
"Good morning, Sir! We have a package for you."
A large, flat box was placed at the doorstep. He stared at it pointedly for a few seconds.
Did Chifuyu order this? If it was, this seemed like a major purchase. The two of them usually discussed this sort of thing beforehand.
He snapped out of it.
"Ah. Thanks."
He signed for the package and brought it into the house. It was imposing, taking up most of the space in the entranceway.
Shirou checked it over a few times, only now noticing a flyer stapled to one of the sides. He tore it off and gave it a once over.
Congratulations! Yodobashi Camera.
Hm?
Ah. Apparently there was some sort of promotion going on when they bought the dryer. A lucky draw. The grand prize was a brand-new flat-screen television, which they had won.
Dubiously, he looked the flyer over, reading the minuscule terms and conditions at the very bottom.
It was very well made, Shirou mused. There was even a QR code.
He stared at the box blankly for a moment, then looked up to the older television hanging above the electric fireplace in the living room.
He looked back down to the box, mulling over it quietly before he held his hand toward it. At once, his vision was blocked off, and an image appeared in his head.
… huh. It was just a TV. 55 inches, OLED, razor-thin, with 4 HDMI inputs, and… was capable of connecting to the internet.
Maybe this time… he and Chifuyu really just got lucky?
Shirou entertained the idea briefly before he sighed, rolling up his sleeves and lifting the box up.
There was work to do.
X
"Kyah!"
The exclamation was met with a powerful blow that landed right smack in the middle of Ichika's brow. The boy yelped and fell straight onto his ass.
Houki scoffed.
"What the hell was that?" she asked him, her tone almost pitying. "You know you have to fight Alcott today, right? Weren't you getting a little better?"
Ichika decided to stay where he was for as long as possible, staring up emptily at the ceiling as he allowed his body a chance to recover.
She was right. He might have been a little rusty going into this, but Houki was kind enough to spar with him during the week leading up to his match with Cecilia. He should've been able to muster something better than that at least. Only, right now, he…
"Is there something on your mind?" his friend asked him.
Yeah. Yeah, there was.
"Hey, Houki." Him calling her out by name made her ears perk up. "Do you ever feel like, I dunno… like you don't know your sister all that well as you thought you did?"
She made a strange face.
"Hah!? You know who my sister is, don't you?"
He grimaced.
Right. Shinonono Houki, sister of Shinonono Tabane, the world's greatest super-genius and almost surely its biggest nutcase.
"Ugh. Sorry."
She didn't take it too unkindly beyond that, however. He heard, more than saw, the girl drop onto the ground next to him.
"What's up with Chifuyu?" she asked him.
He took a moment to think of the best way to formulate his thoughts.
"I feel like there's a lot weighing her down, but even though we're family, it's like she doesn't trust me enough to share any of that with me."
Houki touched his arm.
"Like what?" she pried.
His frown deepened. There wasn't really an easy way to say this. It would be okay to tell Houki, right? He trusted her. She wouldn't think any less of Chifuyu if she knew. Lord knows she admired her just as much as anyone.
"I think she's lonely," he finally admitted. "I'm sure she feels like she has to confront the world on her own. The world put her on such a high pedestal—of course she'd think I wouldn't understand. Either that or she just doesn't want to trouble me. It's not like I don't know that she loves me, y'know? But it's the idea that I can't shoulder any of that burden she carries that worries me."
Houki was silent. She was listening and waiting for him to say more.
Ichika took a deep breath and sat up. Warily, she did the same.
"And I think all of that stress made Chifuyu go off the deep end. You know that first-gen IS she had back during her tournament days? She thinks it's her boyfriend."
Her eyes shot open.
"Wha—"
"I thought she'd get over it after a while, but she hasn't. It had been a little bit since the last time she brought her imaginary boyfriend up so I thought things were getting better but then all of a sudden she's my homeroom teacher and giving people cookies because she wants to pretend that she's dating a baker! Where the hell would she even get cookies!? You'd think that—"
"Stop!" she slapped a hand over his mouth. "Stop. Slow down. You're not making any sense. Why would Chifuyu—"
It was his turn to cut her off. He slapped the hand out of the way and placed both of his on her shoulders. For however serious his gaze was, Houki couldn't help her cheeks burning up.
"I know it sounds crazy. It's insane to me too! I wanted to dismiss it, but then what Miss Yamada went on about today might as well have removed all doubts!"
Miss Yamada? Houki blinked. What did she have to—
…
Wait…
X
The assistant teacher, Yamada Maya — a palindrome of a name, Ya-Ma-Da-Ma-Ya, as Ichika had pointed out — was adorable, sweet, and cheerful; in short, the complete opposite of Chifuyu Orimura.
"A-Another important aspect is that the IS has something like a mind of its own and t-tries to talk to, um... I mean... Understand you and... Err... Reference your past piloting experiences to try and better adapt to you."
Miss Yamada returned to her textbook.
"The point is that both of you are trying to understand each other, and by doing that you can bring out your full potential. The IS is not a tool, but a partner."
A girl raised her hand.
"Miss Yamada! Does that mean it's like a boyfriend for us?"
There came a sudden noise from Houki's right, and she turned towards the source in confusion.
… Did Ichika just choke on his spit?
"U-Um... Yes, I suppose so... I've never had one, so I don't know..." Ms. Yamada was looking away, red-faced.
The girls in the class cast her a scornful glance and began to talk about men whilst Ichika turned towards his sister, face suddenly ashen with despair and… was that pity?
SLAM
"That's enough out of all of you. Pay attention to your teacher." Chifuyu ordered. "The next interruption gets this book delivered to the back of their head."
The class hurriedly quietened down.
"Hmm... Ms. Yamada! Please continue the lesson," remarked Chifuyu.
"O-Okay!"
And as she went on, detailing the basics of aerial movement within an IS, Houki noticed the boy beside her furtively giving his sister worried glances.
Not for the first time, Houki Shinonono wondered what her childhood friend was thinking.
X
Houki Shinonono took it back. She'd rather not have known.
What could she even say in response to this?
"Houki. I'm worried for her." Ichika's eyes were sunken. "I want her to find ways to cope with her problems, but this isn't the way to do it. If she won't talk to me, then what? What do I do?"
The girl's expression turned sad, noticing Ichika's despaired expression. She sucked at this, though. Never before did she have to console someone like this.
Still, desperate for his appreciation in one fashion or another, she wracked her brain.
"… you think this is all because she thinks she can't rely on you, right?" She mused. "Then you'll just have to get stronger!"
"Hm?"
"Yes!" Houki nodded, full of unearned bravado. "She's always been strong enough for the two of you. Be strong. Show you're capable of standing on your own feet and pilot your IS. Win today's match! I'm sure then, she'd find someone worth confiding in and relying on, and she won't treat her IS like—" she stuttered, "…won't delude herself any further."
It seemed the insanity of the situation was beginning to sink in for the girl, but Ichika thought about her words. His life had turned upside down ever since the IS had reacted to him, but he had never really thought about taking this whole IS thing seriously.
Now, though? Now this was personal.
He suddenly felt a growing resolve.
"I think you're right."
"You think I'm—? Oh! Right. Of course."
Houki then became conscious of the fact that he was still holding onto her and that his face was really really really close to hers.
"I know this is a lot to ask," Ichika muttered, "but please, continue to help me become strong!"
"I-idiot!" Houki's inner maiden fluttered wildly. "Of course I will. That's the entire point of our sessions."
His expression softened inexplicably and her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Thank you, Houki," he whispered softly. "I'll be in your care."
Was—was this it? Was he going to—
Her body shaking, she closed her eyes and puckered her lips.
She waited patiently.
"..."
"…Houki? Are you okay? Are you constipated?"
Her eyes opened slowly. She looked utterly unimpressed.
"Houki?" Ichika tried again since she didn't answer him the first time.
She shot up from her kneeling position in an impressive display of explosive power and smashed her foot into his chin, sending him cartwheeling back a good distance.
"Constipated!?" she screamed. "I'll show you 'constipated'!"
He moaned in pain and held his face.
"Why did you—"
She kicked him in the gut.
"Oof!"
Ichika groaned, hacking his breaths as he clutched his stomach. What the hell did he do!? Just as she was beginning to find her cute she was hitting him again. He was an idiot for letting his guard down. She was a literal psychopath.
"Good! Stay there. I hope a dog shits on your face and gives you an infection!" She screamed.
"What lovely words of encouragement, Shinonono. Your sister would be proud."
At once, the blood drained from both their faces, as they robotically turned towards the door, where a distinctly unamused Chifuyu Orimura and a scandalised Yamada Maya stood.
"C-Chifuyu—"
"Miss Orimura." She corrected him on reflex.
Ichika winced, gingerly standing back up as Houki studiously avoided anyone's gaze.
"A-A-Anyway!" Miss Yamada stammered, valiantly forging on. "Ichika! It came! Your personal IS unit is here!"
—It's here?
"Suit up, Orimura. We don't have the arena forever, so I want you out on the field immediately."
—Excuse me?
X
"Whew!" Shirou exclaimed, wiping his brow with his hand. He got up from his crouched position and smiled brightly. "The TV was actually pretty easy to install! These newer models sure make life easier for the consumer."
"I appreciate it," a voice called out from behind him.
Shirou turned around and raised his hands placatingly.
"No problem, Tatsu-san. It was my pleasure. I'm just happy to have someone take this thing off my hands!"
Tatsu-san: a large and scary looking man who wouldn't even take off his sunglasses in his own home. He was a pretty all right guy despite him looking like a yakuza—not to say that his looks were deceiving. He was totally a yakuza, one who'd done unspeakable things to his rivals with a lead pipe in his glory days. Or at least, he used to be.
It just so happened that Tatsu-san had retired to become a househusband as well. Or at least, that was what Old Man Raiga told him the last time he visited.
This was the man whose living room he had been occupying for the past forty five minutes as he installed the prize television.
"I have no desire to be in another man's debt," Tatsu-san told him gravely. "Can I pay you?"
Shirou chuckled.
"Didn't I say you were the one helping me out? I didn't have space for the darn thing. I'll see you at our cooking class next tuesday, okay?"
The scary-looking man smiled in that manner that made Shirou wish he hadn't.
"I don't like it. Shut up and take the money."
Shirou could only smile wryly as a few bills were slapped against his palm. He knew better than to argue with these types.
"This way my wife can watch Policure on Saturday mornings without straining her eyes too much," Tatsu-san explained.
"Policure?" Shirou blinked.
"Crime Catch Policure. You and your missus don't follow stuff on television?"
Shirou shrugged. "She doesn't watch much television. It's not in either of our interests, these days. There are better uses of our time."
"Mm. To each their own." Tatsu nodded. "Can't picture Orimura watching that stuff anyways."
No, Shirou thought wryly. She prefers harder stuff.
With a sigh, he picked up his toolbox. "I'll be going now, Tatsu-san. I'll see you next week at the usual time."
"Mm. Thanks again."
Shirou was pretty pleased with himself on the drive home. He was able to get rid of such a troublesome thing without too much worry. Thankfully it was pretty benign in the hands of someone else, so his conscience was unburdened.
…He did have a sudden craving for dinner, however. He would have to stop by the butcher on his way back.
X
"I'm home!" Chifuyu called out, kicking her shoes off at the entrance. She could smell something from the kitchen from the moment she stepped through the door.
"Welcome back!" her husband greeted her. He had a bright grin waiting for her the moment she rounded the corner; a large pot was taken out of the oven and dropped onto the stove, the man's big, red oven mitts keeping the scorching heat at bay.
The aroma was a familiar one. She narrowed her eyes and approached the pot, tapping his mitt-covered hand in a gesture to have him lift the lid for her.
It was rabbit. Braised in whatever concoction it was that was making it smell so good. Not that it could trick her nose.
She let out an exasperated sigh.
"Seriously? Did it happen again?"
He was making a pointed effort to not look her in the eye.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he answered coyly.
"It looks like the one from The Sopranos."
"This is a ragu." Shirou corrected her. "With pappardelle. I don't know how Artie prepared his rabbit, but I'm pretty sure it was served with risotto."
His wife hummed, laying her head against his arm as they watched the mixture bubble merrily on the stove.
Shirou cleared his throat. "How was the fight?"
Chifuyu snorted. "He lost, of course."
He inclined his head, brows raised.
She sighed. "Well, he showed up in an IS that just arrived, looking more flustered than a quadriplegic in a climbing gym, and only figured out how to shift in the fight's final moments. It was a foregone conclusion he'd lose."
"I… feel like you should place a little more faith in him?"
"I'm being pragmatic. And he had terrible odds from the get-go. The fact it was even close speaks to Alcott's own failings." And then her look softened. "There was a moment he showed some spunk, at least. Unveiling his blade, suddenly declaring he had the best sister in the world, and that it was his turn to support me… I might have been touched had he not lost 5 seconds later."
Shirou chuckled, bringing an arm over her shoulder. "He has a point, you know. I do have the best wife in the world."
She snorted, cheeks faintly pink, and headed upstairs.
"I'm getting changed!" she called from the other room.
"Don't hurry!" Shirou shouted back.
She just laughed, and just like that, the couple's worries and annoyances were tabled for another time.
X
X
"Tatsu-kun~! There's something wrong with the TV!"
Tatsu stopped scrubbing the pot for a second and took a pause as he heard his wife's exclamation from the living room. He was quick to come over.
He quirked a brow, trying his best to make out any apparent faults, but it all looked fine to him. The brightness looked okay, the image was clear…
Maybe there was a troublesome narrative twist in the anime that she was upset about?
He gave up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She was pouting.
"I swear it was there just a second ago!" she insisted. "It was like… there was some random lady in a bunny girl costume that popped up on the screen? It interrupted the show. She was looking right at me! It was kind of scary…" The woman averted her gaze and tapped her index fingers together. "What if it's like Sadako or something?"
Tatsu nodded seriously.
"I see. I'll keep my eye on it."
He wouldn't let anything strange happen to his wife. Not in his house.
Because that's what househusbands do.