Cross-posted on Fanfiction, Spacebattles, AO3, Wattpad, and Quotev

(A/N) Thank you all for the support and feedback, I really appreciate it. Hope you guys enjoy this new chapter.

"Good morning!"

"I'm back!"

"Big sis is here to play with you!"

"Awww~ Your cheeks are so soft!"

"Why do you always look so angry?"

"Smile~ Like this, see? Sss~mile~"

"Hihihi— yummy right? Me too, I also like chocolate!"

"Gimme a hug~"

"Who's your favorite Emmie? Is it me? Is it me? Ooorrr~ is it me?"

"Watcha looking at?"

"Look, all A's! Your big sister is sooo~ smart!"

"Ray—yee—chol, Rachel, come on, I know you can do it! Say my name, please?"

"Mom said you might need to see a doctor, she said toddlers your age should be speaking already..."

"Wow! You spoke! I'm going to tell mom about it when she gets home!"

"I miss Honey, he could have been your best friend too…"

"Who's a good boy~ You are!"

"… They said I shouldn't lie… but I wasn't… I really did see it…"

"Wanna gimme a hug? Awww~ I know you actually love it~"

"… and this man had hooves for legs, you wouldn't believe it!"

"Say, ahhhhh~ Good boy~"

"… but mom and dad are never home… especially dad, I used to wait for him at night, you know?"

"There was this huge~ man, he was so~ tall, and he only had one eye! He was so scary!"

"…and I never remember what happens in my dreams… wait! No! Hmm… I think there was this white-haired man with grey eyes…"

"Mom said you'll be starting preschool, but you're like, two! She told me you were only supposed to go when you are three!"

"…I saw more of those weird-looking people today… they looked really scary…"

"…but don't worry! I'm your big sister, so I'll always protect you!"

"…Don't ever leave me, ok?"

"…Goodnight… I love you, Emmie…"

He stared at the little bundle of blankets on the bed. The redheaded child that had declared herself his older sister slept soundly under the covers, the gentle rise and fall of her body had settled into a calm rhythm soon after the lights were turned off. It was in these moments that he finally reclaimed some peace to himself. After all, the girl could hardly leave him alone during the day.

She would wake up and greet him first thing in the morning, before bringing him to breakfast. From there on, she would pester him in all conceivable ways—poking his cheeks, flailing his arms, hugging him close, or, worst of all, giving him a wet smooch on the cheek. Eventually, she would have to depart for school, to which the girl very reluctantly bid him farewell, glancing back at his crib for every few steps she made towards the door.

When the redhead returned in the afternoon—bursting through the doors, kicking her shoes aside, and dashing through the apartment as she skids to a stop in front of his crib—he could only try his best to withhold his sigh, preparing for the onslaught of attention that was to be delivered on his very being. Again.

Somehow, this sister of his had managed to convince her parents to move his crib into her room instead. This only increased the time they spent together, which was exactly what the little girl had intended.

He had been attached to her—against his own will.

Regardless, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, his little girl of an older sister has become the dominant presence of his waking hours. She clung to him like a lifeline.

It was almost reminiscent of a bygone life in a distant time—when an albino girl called an auburn-haired teen her big brother.

CRASH!

It became quiet all of a sudden.

Emiya cracked open an eye.

All the children had frozen mid-action—a few sat with their legs spread, playing rock-paper-scissors, some crouched carefully, sorting through piles of puzzle pieces, while others lay on the floor, picture books placed in front of them.

Apparently, one of the kids running around wasn't looking at where they were going. The caretaker had been too late to stop him. Now he's sprawled over a pile of wooden blocks, one that had been on its way to becoming quite the magnificent architecture. Another boy, frozen mid-reach with a wooden block in hand, sat beside the heap of disaster motionlessly, unable to process what had happened to his little project.

The eyes of the fallen child reddened. So did the pair belonging to the boy who watched his castle collapse.

One of the caretakers approached the mess with hasty steps. "Tyler, what did I say about running around in the classroom? Let me see, are you al—"

There was a sniffle from Tyler. It was mirrored by the boy crouching beside him.

"—right?"

Emiya closed his eyes, a silent groan escaping his chest.

At least he was far away.

Then the chorus of wailing broke out.

Immediately, another caretaker joined the scene, the experienced adults were quick to take action in consoling the crying boys. They hefted the children into their arms, patting their backs gently while whispering soothing words, but it did little to stop the outburst. Nonetheless, the caretakers persisted in comforting them with a practiced familiarity.

It had been a year since Emiya started attending preschool, having been placed with the three-year-old for his first semester, and then moved up a year by the second. It was wishful thinking on his part to believe there would be a noticeable improvement in his peers' behaviors.

As he sat against the wall and rested with his eyes closed, the rest of the children just continued to stare, shocked at the development in front of them. Beside him huddled a timid blond girl dressed in a frilly pink dress. She wore her hair in neatly made pigtails. A picture book was hugged in front of her chest, blocking her lips, but that did nothing to cover her eyes which had started to water.

Emiya could only be grateful that, at the very least, his "playmates" didn't join in. That would have been an actual disaster. Unlike toddlers at the orphanage, the kids here are old enough to have the decency to refrain from participating in the weeping—

The little girl sniffled.

His nose twitched—the air suddenly smelled like roses and chocolate.

—right. He had forgotten about this one.

The duet became a trio.

Emiya sighed as a third caretaker hurried over. "Oh sweety, Lacy! What happened? Did you injure yourself…"

In the two years that Emiya has since joined the Dare household, the one thing he could always appreciate was the food. Their private chef, Anthony, has been providing an excellent variety of quality cuisine that rotated on a meal-to-meal basis. It had been to Emiya's immense satisfaction that the family, while each following their own schedule and dining at different times, would spend so much on food that was wasted on most occasions. But he guessed they had money to spare.

However, that made the luxurious kitchen facility—which he passed every time he left for preschool, and once more when he returned—a great bother to Emiya. What was the point of all those commercial-grade kitchenware if no one was going to use them? It was unacceptable to leave them here, abandoned in some high-rise New York City penthouse, gathering nonexistent dust.

Emiya conceded that Anthony was a decent cook. But even with the man's proficiency in the culinary arts—which was, of course, inferior to his own—the quality of food was bound to take a dip after being trapped in steamy containers during the delivery and the wait.

Their residence had its own kitchen, with more than capable equipment. Instead of having a chef cook and deliver the food, he should be the one—

Click.

Faint scuffles echoed from the story below, and then rushed taps of socked foot against marbled floor resounded through the house, the thumps grew louder with the approach of its owner.

It did take a while though—a little over twenty seconds, Emiya estimated as he continued to stare out the window. Excluding the rooftop and its helipad, their family did own the top three floors to themselves, so it took some time to navigate the house, regardless of either walking or sprinting through it.

Another nice perk of being rich.

The pounding footsteps skidded to a halt behind his door.

WHAM!

"Emmiiiie~ I'm back!"

His eyes wandered to the entrance of his room.

The silhouette of a klutzy, exuberant, brown-haired woman cheered through the doorframe.

He blinked—and the image was gone.

In her place stood a nine-year-old girl, sporting a head full of frizzy red hair, and a pair of dazzling green eyes, grinning from ear to ear. With a thud, the child dropped her backpack onto the ground unceremoniously.

Surely, if the girl's mother had witnessed her conduct, she would have been admonished for her crass behavior. But the woman was rarely home this early.

All the while this happened, from the door being thrown open to the girl's joyous exclamation, Emiya had, unhurriedly, stood from his seat and tucked it back under the table, shifting a few steps so he stayed clear of any obstructions.

Then the older redhead charged him.

If the impact had elicited a small huff of breath from him, then the embrace that followed squeezed out every ounce of air in his lungs. It didn't help that the two ended up landing on the floor, with the older, noticeably taller sister suffocating the brother underneath her.

At least the girl had the awareness to wrap her hands around the back of his head before hitting the ground, providing some form of protection.

The last time this had happened—that being yesterday—Emiya had been sitting in his chair. That did not end well for either of them, especially the girl. He had fallen along with his chair, which was uncomfortable, but his sister had, with all her momentum while clinging on to his head, flipped herself over and tumbled into the window walls.

It had been quite a comical sight.

Emiya could only be grateful that it was laminated glass, otherwise, the girl would have found herself floating amongst a shower of pale shards, over sixty floors in the air, waiting to plummet to the ground, just a few dozen meters shy of landing in East River.

Not that entering the water from such a height would fare any better than concrete.

It was precisely why he had made sure to tuck in his chair today and moved to where the carpet was. If this were to become routine, he might as well make the process safer and more comfortable.

"…Rachel…" Emiya greeted in a muffled voice from underneath her.

"Emmie!" Replied the girl as she giggled and continued to rub her cheeks against the top of his head.

Curls of red hair tickled his face. It was an odd feeling, even after all this time, to be embraced with such gushing love by someone. He could scarcely recall the last time he was subjected to such warmth.

After all, it was wrong for someone like him to receive such overflowing affection—

He wrapped his arms around her.

"Awww~ I love you too!" Rachel squealed, as she pulled a hand free to ruffle his hair.

—but if this made her day, then that was what he would do.

"Hey Emmie, what's this?" Asked the sister while picking up a rectangular box from the refrigerator rack.

"That's tofu, Rachel."

"What is a tofu?"

"It's a type of food used in East Asian cuisines."

"Oh… Do you know what it tastes like? Are we going to buy it? Should I put it in the cart?" the girl tailing him fired off in rapid succession.

"Well, it's made from coagulating soy milk and then pressing the curd into solid blocks. It doesn't have a lot of flavors on its own. But its mild taste enables it to be incorporated into a variety of dishes." Emiya waved his hand and continued forward with the cart. "And no, we are not buying it, we are having Italian tonight. So, no tofu. You can put it back where you found it, Rachel."

"…Wow." She paused in her step to stare at her brother. When the boy who was barely taller than the shopping cart continued onwards, she quickly snapped out of her stupor. "Hey! Wait for me, Emmie!" Rachel called out, as she ran back to return the box of tofu.

Emiya had decided to do some grocery shopping when the weekends arrived. Unfortunately, he had failed to shake off his sister before leaving their residence. She was practically glued to him, departing without alerting her would have been a challenging task. In the end, Rachel had followed him to the door, pestering him about where he was going. When he informed her of his intentions, the girl had been all too happy to accompany him on this mini outing.

Apparently, as the older sister, it was her "responsibility" to protect the younger sibling.

Big words she had used.

Nonetheless, Emiya decided to indulge in Rachel's self-proclaimed duties—these things tend to put the girl in a jovial mood, that is, on top of whatever positivity she was already exuding with his presence.

"Hey Emmie, how do you know all these things? I don't know them, and I'm nine!" The taller redhead had caught up to the shorter one.

"I read," Emiya shrugged, searching the aisles for ingredients needed for tonight's dinner, "and you should too."

"Wha— but you're four! And I do read!" The girl exclaimed from behind her sibling.

"Picture books don't count, Rachel." The boy continued while tilting his head back, throwing her a subtle glance. "At this rate, I just might be smarter than you."

"But I like picture books. Aaand—" she emphasized, "the teachers at school said I have good grades."

Emiya hummed in agreement. "Yet you know less than me, like how you just asked about tofu— Oh, would you grab the parsley for me? Middle shelf."

"What? Where? What does it look like?" The girl asked in confusion as she stared at a wall of green, before remembering his previous comment, "And tofu does not count! That is the only thing that I don't know about!"

"Mhm. Third row from the bottom— no, those are chives, one more to the left."

"Is it this one?" Rachel pointed at some bundles of greens.

"Yes, those please." He took the greens from the girl. "You also don't recognize parsley—or chives—as a matter of fact."

The older sister stood there gawking at her younger brother, appalled by her baby brother's attitude.

Emiya raised an eyebrow before resuming his stroll.

He could get used to this.

The teasing would have to come in moderation, however, lest she becomes desensitized to it. Or perhaps not, after all, he has poked fun at her for quite some time now, and the girl has yet to disappoint with her reactions.

"Rachel," he beckoned with his back turned, a faint smile tugging on his lips, "you'll catch a fly if you keep your mouth hanging like that. And don't just stand there, we're still missing the seafood. If we don't hurry, dinner is going to be served late."

"Eeemmiiiie—" Rachel whined as she jumped the retreating boy from behind, her fingers pinching his cheeks. "It's not nice to be mean!"

"It's not my fault when you make it so easy." He continued to roam the aisles with the older girl's hands attached to his face.

Rachel huffed and gave Emiya's cheeks a few squeezes. It was a habit she had developed after declaring that she liked how it felt.

"You think you're so smart, huh? Just because you know what tofu and parsley are?" She pinched his cheeks again.

"Don't forget chives."

She growled a little. "Just you wait, I'll learn something too, and then you will understand that I am the smartest and bestest!" She administered a few more squeezes on his cheeks, just to get her point across.

"I'll be looking forward to it. And Rachel?"

"What."

Emiya paused, feeling an irresistible tug on his lips, this time not from the girl's fingers. "As the smartest person, you should know that 'bestest' is not an actual word."

"Pleeeease," begged the girl as she nudged her brother once more. "Just one."

Emiya stood on a stool, focused on the cooking. "Rachel, you've already had over a dozen bites. Plus, we are currently short on ingredients after you burned an entire pan."

"J-just a taste!" She stammered urgently. "It's a taste test! I have to make sure the food is yummy…" The girl trailed off, confidence waning as even she knew how poor of an excuse that was.

"Uh-huh." He held out a hand at her while his attention remained on the stove. Almost immediately, he felt the weight of a wooden spoon pressed in his palm. With a quick glance, he noticed how the tip of the utensil was glistening. "And what did I say about double dipping?"

"Ah!" Rachel snatched the item from him, deposited it in the sink, grabbed a new one from the drawers, and hurried back to her brother's side. "Here!" She pushed a clean spoon into his hands.

With a swift dip of the utensil, Emiya scooped up a generous bite of risotto and offered it to the girl. "This is the last 'taste test' that you will be engaging in until dinner is served. Otherwise, we will have nothing left by the time we finish cooking."

Rachel grinned as she quickly accepted the spoon, eager to shove it in her mouth. She pouted when her brother grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her from completing the motion.

"My, my. Careful now. It's hot. You know the food won't run away, right?"

"But I want to eat it, Emmie! It's tasty!"

Emiya shook his head at her reckless behavior. "Do me a favor and make sure you blow on the food, Rachel. We wouldn't want you to burn your tongue again now, would we?"

The girl groaned under his stern gaze.

"Plus, if I weren't mistaken, were you not doing this for the purpose of sampling?" He paused, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. "You sound awfully eager and a bit too confident in the quality of the risotto. Surely, to be so convinced that it's 'tasty' would mean that there is no reason to examine the food, wouldn't it?"

The older sister blushed at his words but heeded his advice. She puffed her cheeks and started blowing short, small breaths at the steaming food.

Emiya knew Rachel understood the gist of what he said, even with the supposedly "big" and "smart" words he used. She frequently called him a show-off for speaking like that. Regardless, it had been obvious that her flimsy excuse was just an attempt to have some more food. The fact that this was her fifteenth asking did not help with her rationalization.

But he couldn't fault the girl for being all too eager. This was a common reaction for many of whom he has fed.

They returned from their first-ever grocery run before sunset. Rachel had deemed it her role to be the head chef, determined to prove herself as the big sister. It probably had something to do with all the teasing he delivered. The girl probably felt her position as the older sibling threatened. Not that he could help himself though—he did mention that she made it all too easy.

Rachel proved that she had zero knowledge of the kitchen. That was to be expected, however, as their family never prepared their own meals, and consequently the girl never got to practice. Emiya knew that, but he had let her try anyway, it was what she wanted to do, and it wouldn't hurt to let her have some fun. In fact, he had already anticipated this scenario and bought more ingredients than required.

Evidently, the girl had no idea how to make a seafood risotto and ended up burning the entire pan. Rachel had freaked out about the charred food, fearing the smoke might set off the fire alarm. She had been quite terrified and—surprisingly—defaulted to her baby brother for help.

It was quite amusing for Emiya—the way she had turned to him for rescue without a sliver of hesitation. He guessed that deep down the girl saw him as the more mature of the two, and so when she found herself in a frightening situation, he was the support she sought out.

Under the frantic bumbling of Rachel, Emiya finally took over to get the job done, unless they settled for chef Anthony's food. There was nothing wrong with that, but since they were already halfway through making dinner, they might as well finish it.

The disparity in how the siblings navigated the kitchen was glaringly evident the moment he stepped in. While Rachel had buzzed around like a panicked bee trapped in a jar, Emiya moved with a fluidity that embodied a sense of calming familiarity with the space.

It came as natural as breathing to him.

The taller girl had remained oddly quiet throughout the entire process. Her green eyes reflected his figure—they captured his every turn, every step, and every gesture. The air hummed with the rhythmic thuds of chopping, which shifted to the drawn-out sizzling of food, and eventually settled into a gentle bubbling as the pans simmered on. Before long, a rich aroma had engulfed the entirety of the room.

Emiya had offered her a sample of the dish, seeing how she had waited diligently at his side without making any extra mess. That proved to be a mistake on his part, as Rachel didn't stop asking for more after the first bite. By the time the food was ready to be served, there were dozens of extra spoons in the sink.

Click.

The front door had been opened, followed by the gentle sounds of ruffling and tapping as jackets and heels were removed.

There was an imperceptible pause before Emiya removed the risotto from the heat. At his side, Rachel continued to hum in contentment as she savored the dance of flavors on her tongue.

"Rachel," he called out to the girl who stayed fixated at the stove, "would you mind bringing me three sets of plates?"

"Hmm?" She tilted her head questioningly, "Do you mean two?" Her confusion quickly morphed into smugness, "Awww~ Emmie, you counted wrong~ It's only you and me, so we only need two plates!"

"Jennifer is back early today; she's getting changed right about now."

"Mom's back? Wait—" Rachel squinted at him curiously, "How do you know that? Why did she tell you and not me?"

"I heard her entering the apartment." Emiya shrugged while scooping the sizzling seafood into the pan containing the risotto. "You would have noticed too if you weren't so caught up on sampling the risotto."

"Oh," Rachel blushed again, "I'll go get the plates."

Emiya shook his head in amusement at the girl's antics.

A moment later, the two arrived in tow at an elegant dining room, their steps echoing gently in the vast space. The boy hefted a pan that was all too big for him, and the girl cradled three large, gilded porcelain plates.

Large windows offered a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. The setting sun painted the horizon in hues of orange and pink, the colors spilled deep into the room, illuminating the matte-black marble floor. On either side, wall fountains stretched from the ceiling to the ground, glistening with a thin film of waterfall. A heavy mahogany table stretched down the depth of the room.

At the very end of the room near the window walls rested metal cloches, their polished surfaces reflected curved images of the skyline.

A fancy setup, but Emiya could respect that. It helped preserve the quality of the food.

He proceeded to set the steaming risotto down on a heat pad, among the other dishes prepared by Anthony. Rachel was quick to follow, rushing to place two plates on one side, and then the third across the table.

As they both settled into their seats, the soft, steady pattering of barefoot on stone drifted from the hallway. Gradually, the figure of a tall, elegant woman with golden blonde hair cascading down her back emerged from the entrance. Her emerald eyes, which Rachel had inherited, scanned the room, taking in the sight of the two redheads sitting on the deep end of the table, basking in the dusk of the horizon.

"Rachel, Shirou," greeted the woman. "It seems we will be dining together."

"Jennifer." Emiya nodded at the woman.

"Hey, mom! You won't believe it! Emmie cooked the risotto for dinner! I've never had something this tasty before! Ever! Also, why are you home early today? But that's great because now you get to try out Emmie's cooking, too!" Rachel exclaimed while rocking back and forth in her chair. As always, her habit of firing off a string of comments surfaced when she became enthused.

The woman hummed as she made her way toward their end of the room, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "That's wonderful, Rachel. I see that the two of you are getting along well." She glanced at the food, "You were not exaggerating, the smell is incredibly delightful."

While Jennifer and her husband had a distant relationship with their daughter, Emiya knows that they cared for Rachel, just not in the form the girl most needed it to be. In the two years since his adoption, his interaction with the woman had always been brief, and even more so with the head of the house. He always addressed them by their first names, which, oddly enough—or perhaps expectedly—neither seemed to have an issue with.

They left him to his own devices, something he wouldn't complain about.

"Mhm! You'll love it! Emmie makes better food than Anthony!" The girl cheered with a raised hand, one which Emiya gently pushed back down to the table, lest she stabbed something—or someone—with the silverware.

"Truly? You are laying quite the expectations here." In one smooth motion, Jennifer settled into her seat while sweeping her golden locks over the backrest. "And don't wave your utensils around. Manners, Rachel."

"Oh, sorry…"

The woman then removed the cloches one by one, and gestured at the food, "Why don't we get started, then. It's getting quite late."

"Okay! Make sure you try the risotto! It's seriously the bestes—" the girl clamped down, taking a peek at her brother "…the best!"

Emiya raised an eyebrow at her.

The woman nodded and delicately picked up her fork and knife. With practiced grace, she sliced through the risotto, bringing a small portion to her lips. As she savored the bite, her eyes fluttered close momentarily, a subtle hum escaping her throat.

Rachel was quick to follow as she started bringing the food to her mouth in a steady yet urgent pace, her cheeks plump with how fast she was trying to eat. Shaking his head at the girl's conduct, Emiya started on his own plate in a controlled rhythm, contrasting the hurried movements of the other redhead.

For a moment, the dining room was quiet with only the gentle sounds of silverware tinkering against plates.

"Shirou," Jennifer cleared her throat, breaking the silence. She almost looked a tad bashful, if that expression even existed in her emotional repertoire.

Emiya only hummed in response—he knew her next words before she spoke them.

"…Perhaps you could cook more in the future. If you'd like to, of course."

"Sure. Cooking is… an enjoyable exercise for me, you could say."

Jennifer nodded, there was almost a tiny sparkle in her eyes. "That is good to hear." She paused, "You will be attending elementary school after summer, correct?"

"Yes, first grade." Emiya set his fork down while Rachel was still immersed in her food. The food seemed to have put the woman in a mood for conversation. How rare. Perhaps he should start cooking every day and Jennifer might even come home early. That could help connect the mother-daughter pair.

But more importantly, he could guess where this conversation was headed.

The woman smiled. "With you two attending the same school, I am to assume that you will be keeping Rachel on her best behavior?"

Emiya chuckled a bit. "I think she did just fine without me in school. No, I am almost certain she acts normally around her peers, so there should be no need for you to worry."

He was hoping that this problem would have simply been forgotten if left alone.

"Ah, right. She only behaves so… excitable around you." The woman looked towards her daughter who was busy eating. "Well, Rachel, isn't this good news?"

But that wishful thinking was nothing more than a house of cards.

"Hmm?" The girl looked up with stuffed cheeks.

Emiya leaned back into his seat, waiting for the collision between two realities.

"I'm sure you will be most happy that Shirou will be attending the same school as you—"

"Whu—"

"—After all, you have pestered me quite a few times regarding this topic. And please swallow first before you speak."

The girl chewed hastily on her food before speaking up again. "Emmie is coming to my school? But… we don't have classes for preschoolers… right?"

"Preschool? Rachel, Shirou will be in first grade by the next school year."

The girl tilted her head in confusion. "Wait, wha— how?" She quickly glanced at the boy before looking back at her mother. "He's four!"

Jennifer furrowed her brows. "Rachel, your brother is six years old."

"No? He's four."

Her mother shook her head. "He just turned six this semester."

The girl pouted. "No, he did not!"

Jennifer stared at her daughter before trying another approach. "He's in his last year of preschool. His birthday in April was his sixth birthday."

"He isn't six! He turned four years old this birthday! I bought him the cake, I know!" Rachel exclaimed, her face beginning to flush with frustration.

"…It's been four years since we adopted him." The woman gazed at her daughter calmly.

Rachel's eyes widened in disbelief, a hint of anger shimmering through. "NnnNnn! You're lying!" she blurted out, slamming her palms down onto the table. Her chest heaved as her breathing became more erratic.

Jennifer maintained her composure, her voice gentle yet firm. "Rachel, I am not lying. Shirou has been with us for four years now. He was two when he came to live with us. Now, he is six."

"But, but…" The girl's face was a turmoil of emotions, her voice quivered as she struggled to find the right words to say.

Jennifer reached out across the table, trying to grasp her daughter's trembling hand. "Rachel, I understand your confusion. Sometimes, this is just how time has flown by," she said softly.

The girl recoiled. Her eyes watered as she glanced frantically between her mother and her brother. "That's not true…"

He had always wondered when the girl would notice that—

Rachel pushed away from the table abruptly, her chair slid against the stone floor. "This isn't true!" she yelled, her face scarlet with a mixture of outrage and confusion before she turned and dashed out of the dining hall.

—he belonged to the abnormal that burdened her entire life.

The older girl had fallen asleep with her face snuggled into his stomach.

Emiya stroked her hair gently while a hand propped up his head as he stared through the glass and into the night sky. It had taken quite a while for her to calm down after the fiasco at dinner.

He had planned to check on the girl after letting her cool off a bit, a decision that Jennifer also seemed to arrive at. That would have made the girl more upset. The mother and daughter simply won't be able to reach an agreement on this issue. They were presented with two different realities that were objectively true in their own perspectives.

Even if one did eventually relent, it would be a concession for the sake of conceding, not one of genuine persuasion. That would simply delay and further the build-up on the strain of their relationship. Today had been a significant—but reconcilable—outburst on Rachel's part, there was no way that this would be the end of it.

It had taken him a couple of words to dissuade Jennifer from approaching her daughter so soon again.

Instead, after finishing dinner, he had arrived in the girl's room to find her curled up in bed. Rachel had heard him opening the door, and upon seeing his figure, she had rushed him, enveloping him in an embrace while wiping away whatever moisture was left in her eyes.

There wasn't much talking between them, and the older girl did not press him for anything related to his age. Eventually, she had fallen asleep on the sofa, curled up with a blanket while her head rested on his lap.

"…Emmie…" murmured the girl as she snuggled her face even more firmly against his stomach.

His hand paused mid-stroke, before resting firmly on her head.

Rachel was just a little girl who loved her younger brother very much, almost abnormally so. Before he had arrived, the girl had been lonely, and that made her cherish—fear for—their current connection even more. It was evident through the ways she clung to him and her repeated declarations as the elder sibling.

Her emphasis on her role as the big sister was a glaringly obvious mask for her insecurities. As if, should the girl not reinforce this idea and live up to this title, then somehow, she would lose him too.

But it was fine to be flawed. It was okay to make mistakes and it will not deprive her of the things she cherished. Rachel wasn't the perfect older sister, and it's alright because she will never have to be one.

It was not a burden she needed to carry.

Rachel shifted around unconsciously to find a better position on his lap.

Emiya glanced down at the girl, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight.

Now, all that's left is to do is explain to a nine-year-old why she is the only person who can see the mysteries of this world.

Simple. Nothing he couldn't take care of.

Emiya's gaze wandered to the sparkling skylines of Manhattan. As he stared up at the flock of golden reindeers pulling a silver chariot across the night sky, he contemplated just how he should go about breaking the news to Rachel.

Hi all, Tangerine Cat here.

I hope that some of you might have noticed the age discrepancies that were hinted at throughout the chapter, and yeah, as depicted at the end of the chapter it is intentional and part of the plot and Emiya's character. The reason for this discrepancy will be explained later on. Since you are all pretty competent readers, I won't try to explain everything through a single, lengthy exposition in the chapter through the A/N in case of spoiling or ruining the pace of the story. This is something I really dislike about a lot of fanfictions, and that is: treating the readers like they are incompetent and have zero abilities in reading comprehension. As a reader myself, I really don't like that, so I won't treat my readers like that either.

In fact, a lot of the things I have planned for this story will seem unanswered when they first appear and may seem like "mistakes". However, they will be addressed and revealed slowly throughout the story, but I think all of you are more than capable of keeping up with what I am trying to do here—that is, if I can actually pull it off properly (Srsly hope I have the competency to do that on my first run of writing). But yeah, expect foreshadowing. They make seem like mistakes at first (although there will be instances where I actually make mistakes, so please point out discrepancies and I will either inform yall whether it was intentional or just a blunder), but all in all, they will be answered throughout the story.

Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter!

Cheers.