It was a sight he would never forget.

The space was dark and foul. It had been left begrimed for many years. Moldered tombstone recesses chiseled the stained stone wall, tinted by a sickening green gradated to black. From the bottom of it all, a cacophony of chitters coalesced to a symphony of insatiate hunger. The worms were the source of the sound, but they were unlike any worms he had seen before. They were slimy and gray, fat and split-tailed. The head was smooth and bulbous, and a slit down the middle exposed a mouth full of teeth, drooling a putrid substance.

On the stairs, a decrepit man leaned on his cane. His head was bloodless and wizened, like a desiccated fruit. Tar-black were his sclera and filmy were his pupils. Worms crawled up his ankles. They submerged inside him and became him, rippling under his skin like boiling water. He was watching below, satisfied.

The worms were grinning as they desecrated Sakura's bare flesh. They buried her in themselves, a mass of wriggling meat. She was submerged in flesh, oozed in digestive saliva. Consumed in all but name. In a portrait of decay, she was the centerpiece. None of her was spared, save for her face, devoid of all emotion. Her eyes were wide-open, yet saw nothing. Someone was screaming, but it was not Sakura. She was utterly silent, frozen amidst the frenzy. If not for her fragile breaths, Shirou would have thought her deceased. Perhaps she would have found that preferable. They slithered into every orifice. A worm burrowed through her still mouth, trampled over her tongue, then crawled out the way it entered. Her ears and nostrils were explored the same. The worms had a purpose. They sought her nether regions, for only the ones that tunneled there did not exit. Sakura's skin pulsated from within, warped by oblong shapes digging down her veins. They bathed in her blood. She did not move. The screaming reached a fever pitch. They came from his own throat, he realized.

"Shirou!"

The vision ended. He was on his knees. Fingernails clawed at his head. They were his own, and they captured red. His throat was bloodied and raw. The sudden light was harsh on his eyes. Someone was shaking his shoulders. Caster. He was in Caster's room. Safe, where Sakura wasn't.

She was saying something. He couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears. With trembling limbs, he creaked to his feet. He turned to the door. He knew where Sakura's house was. Shinji had invited him to the Matou manor before, but had stopped after middle school. Sakura had never liked when he visited. Now he understood why.

The room was one he had never seen before. It was far too large for it to be above ground. The basement.

He slid the door open. Caster clutched his hand. She waited until he looked at her. "What are you doing?"

His mind was not working well. He barely registered her touch. Mechanically, he shook her off. "I have to help her," he heard himself saying. "Sakura."

Caster frowned with regret. She grabbed his hand again. "I should not have shown you all at once. It must have been harsh for you. Forgive me."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said dully. His mind was focused on one objective. "Now I know what I must do."

He moved to the exit, but Caster held firm. "You cannot do anything to help her. You will only get yourself killed."

"I don't care." He freed himself from her grip. Sakura was waiting. He couldn't waste a second.

"Listen to me," she hissed. "There is nothing you can do."

"Be quiet." Not a command, but a request. Everything she said was correct, which is why he couldn't bear it. He took another step forward.

"Shirou!" Arms wrapped around his chest, and deft fingers linked together. He felt sudden warmth against his tense back. "Stop. Just stop," she pleaded. Her voice was quiet, but very close. "Don't make me force you."

Mind warred soul. Every logical part of him understood his efforts would be fruitless. He didn't have the skill to help her. He would only be devoured by the countless worms, more fuel for the fire. But how could he possibly let her suffer any longer? He couldn't. His body bristled, and he tried to move again. Caster held him tighter, refusing to release him. "What am I supposed to do?" he demanded. "She needs help…" Tears stung the corner of his eyes. He fought them down, gnashing his teeth. He was the most powerless man in the world.

Caster was silent. He sensed her hesitation. She let him go, and he stumbled forward. Shirou turned to her, huffing. "I can help her," she announced. His spirit roused, then dampened when she spoke again. "But not right now."

"Why not? What do you need?" he asked at once. Caster stared at him, considering. It was at that moment Shirou knew that she could say anything and he would believe in it, for he had no hope. A drowning man would take any lifeline. Caster knew it too. She could pluck his will like a fruit from a tree.

She said instead: "Time. Even at my full power, it would be difficult. The girl's condition is treacherous. One misstep and she will die." Shirou was about to protest, but she raised a hand to silence him. "This is the work of a fetid magus, in his disgusting pursuit of immortality. He lives in the worms and has infected the girl with them. Her body has been adapted to the worms, as have the worms to her. Entwined to her veins, nerves, and organs, they leech her vitality and threaten her like a banyan to another tree. And there is something else I saw," she trailed off, distracted.

Shudders crawled down his spine. "Can you remove them?"

Caster pursed her lips. "I would have to cut open her body, extract the worms, then stitch her back together, all while ensuring she remains alive. Doable? Easily, if that were all. But there exists a worm coiled around her heart. Any action taken against the worms, or the magus inside them, will cause her heart to be devoured. Even I cannot guarantee her survival from such an injury."

Everything died within him. He slumped against the wall. "So that's it? There's nothing we can do?" he asked, forlorn.

Caster gently held his hand. "All is not lost. You must be patient. There will come a time when I reach my full strength. Now is not that time, but soon."

Questions sprouted like weeds in his head. How long? What do you mean? Another part of him noted how she could reach her full strength. She needed mana. How many people would you have to drain? Shirou was ashamed of even considering it. But if there was no other way… He shattered that line of thought, expelling it from the walls of his consciousness, where it lurked outside like a shadow, waiting to be let in. "Are you telling me to do nothing?"

Caster met his gaze. Her eyes were an inferno, and her voice was low and hard. "For you, I know to do nothing is the most painful torture imaginable. That is why I am ordering you to endure. Bide your time. Remember this wretched feeling. Latch it in your heart and let it fester. Never allow others to know, but never allow yourself to forget. There will come an opportunity. It is then we will strike, and destroy the one who has scorned her so. Once and for all."

Shirou paid rapt attention to her vengeful sermon. He gathered his resolve. "But what about Sakura? I don't want her to hurt for any longer than she has to."

"She will be fine. I've been observing her ever since I left your home today. The girl is stronger than you think. From what I can tell, she has already endured for years. What is another few weeks?"

The statement was meant to comfort, but it pierced him like an arrow. "Years," he recited, embers on his tongue. It explained everything. Why she had seemed so vacant when they had first met. Why she had withheld her personal life from him. Why she had never wanted him to get involved. Guilt flooded him. Long had she suffered and never had he known. Right by his side. He was the blindest fool, the lowest of the low. A failure of a hero.

His eyes dropped to his hands. They were balled into useless fists. His knuckles were blanched. His fingernails dug into his palm, deep enough to draw blood.

Caster noticed his shame. "Do not blame yourself. You could not have known."

"That doesn't make it right," he muttered. "All this time…"

A few fingers dipped under his chin, gently lifting his head until he was forced to look into her silver-blue eyes. They were kind and sincere. "All that time, you have made her happy. Just as you have made me happy."

"But I haven't helped her," he said.

"You would be surprised at what good happiness can do. For some, it is hard to come by," she murmured.

"It's not enough," he said. "I want her to be free."

"And she will be. The caged bird will soar."

Shirou took her words to heart. "Thank you, Caster. I owe you so much. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you in my lifetime."

Caster smiled. "Truly? I think our positions reversed. What I do is as trivial as drawing breath."

"But you could've remained silent, and I never would have known." A question lingered in the back of his mind. "Is there a reason you decided to help her?" She had drained the energy of multiple salarymen, yet chose to aid Sakura for no benefit of her own.

Caster went still, deep in thought. "Sakura. A girl whose life was stolen away, impelled by powers beyond her existence. Yes, I understand her well."

Sakura was ensconced in the kitchen. She had already sliced the scallions into tiny green rings, and was currently chopping through a block of tofu. A pot of broth simmered on the stovetop behind her. Once she was finished with the tofu, she dumped them into the stainless steel pot beside her, where they made tiny splashes into the broth. The ingredients complete, she began stirring using the ladle, making wide revolutions within the circumference of the pot. Shirou watched from the table as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The aroma of miso wafted towards him. Gentle, but lasting.

A few minutes later, the soup was ready, and she served him a bowl, along with a side of white rice. Then, she hung up her apron and sat down across from him, where they waited for Fuji-nee to arrive. In the mornings, Fuji-nee usually wouldn't mind if they started ahead of her, but they didn't want to take the risk.

Shirou gave his bowl a cursory stir, watching the ingredients float around. "Good work," he approved.

Sakura beamed. It was radiant. His heart lurched for multiple reasons. "Thank you, senpai! I hope you enjoy it."

"I'm sure it's delicious," he said. She hadn't made a bad dish in ages. "Say, Sakura. Has everything been alright recently?" Caster had told him to be silent, but he couldn't help but inquire.

"Yes. Everything has been fine," she said. Her expression didn't change. "But is everything okay with you, senpai? You look really tired today."

"I'm fine," he lied. Sleep had not come to him that night. Each time he closed his eyes, he only saw the worm pit, and Sakura within. Nightmares were not new to him, but they had never before concerned Sakura. He could not stand to see her suffer in his dreams as well. So he laid awake until dawn greyed the skies, and it was in that state he had risen from his futon, eyes half-lidded and underscored by dark circles. The only consequence was fatigue. Nothing like Sakura had to bear. "I stayed up too late last night."

Sakura pouted. "I keep saying that you work too hard, senpai. The shed isn't going to run away, you know."

"I know, I know. But those appliances aren't going to fix themselves," he said. "If I don't work hard, they'll pile up into a big mess."

She giggled. "It's already a big mess."

"Pile up into an even bigger mess," he corrected. "Besides, I don't think it's that bad." He tried to keep his shed orderly.

"Um…" Sakura looked away. "No comment," she peeped.

Shirou huffed in faux annoyance. "Hey, what are you trying to say?"

"Nothing, senpai." She raised a hand to cover her mouth, but she couldn't hide her tiny grin.

He rolled his eyes, letting her get away with her gentle ribbing. His junior could be quite cheeky sometimes. "I'll clean it up soon," he promised.

"I can clean it for you, if you'd like."

"Of course not! You already do too much around the house for me," he sighed. "I would be a terrible senpai if I made you do more."

Sakura leaned back on her cushion. "But I like helping senpai out. Cleaning can be very satisfying. You taught me that yourself."

"Did I?"

Sakura smiled. The mood was good. He decided to pivot the conversation. "Oh, and by the way, you would tell me if anything was wrong, right?"

A heartbeat's pause. Sakura hesitated, before nodding. "Of course. But I'm fine right now."

"I know. But in the future, if you ever need something, I want you to know that I'm there for you. Just say the word, and I'll try my best to help you. No matter what it is. And if there's anything you want me to do, I'll do it. Anything at all." If she didn't want his help, then he would make her happy. Through any means necessary.

An indrawn breath. A flush rosed Sakura's cheeks. "A-anything?"

"Yes. Anything," he reaffirmed. "No restrictions."

Sakura's face turned even redder. She lowered her head until her bangs covered her eyes. "T-that's okay, senpai," she squeaked.

Fuji-nee waltzed inside. "Man, I'm tired," she greeted."Morning, you two." She sat at the table, then served herself a bowl. "Good ol' miso soup."

With everyone here, they finally began to eat. Like that, Shirou could almost pretend things were normal. They finished breakfast and washed the plates. Fuji-nee left ahead of them on her trusty scooter, and Shirou and Sakura soon followed. Sakura locked the door and they made their way to school. Ignorance is bliss, Shirou thought. Yesterday, this would have been an idyllic morning. But everyone had their secrets, and knowing the torment Sakura faced left a bitter aftertaste to every interaction.

They reached the school gate. "Senpai, I'm going to the archery club now," Sakura announced, like she always did.

"Right. I'll see you later." He responded in kind.

She walked away, then stopped and turned around. "Actually, do you want to come visit? Mitsuzuri-senpai would be really happy."

The answer was the same as always. "Sorry, Sakura. Maybe next time. Tell her I said hello."

With that, Sakura trotted off, and Shirou dropped the facade, permitting his dark mood to settle. He helped Issei out, then trudged through lectures until lunch. Tohsaka was waiting for him on the rooftop. He swapped bentos silently, then sat down across from her. She tried to make conversation, but he wasn't paying full attention.

"Emiya, are you okay?" Tohsaka asked him, after his third absentminded answer.

The lack of sleep was getting to him. "I'm fine. I'm just feeling under the weather today."

"Really? Are you sure?" she ventured.

"Yes," he said flatly, then winced when he saw her expression shift. "Sorry. That was rude."

Tohsaka shrugged, mouth flat. "It's alright."

They fell into a stifled silence. The food was good, but he could barely taste it. Shirou apologized to her internally. He would make it up to her on a different day.

School could not have ended any slower. Before he left, there was someone else he had to check on, another person who lived in the same world as Sakura. He found Shinji after school in the courtyard, chatting with a group of girls. Shirou didn't recognize them. Shinji must have told a joke, for the girls were giggling around him. Shirou approached them casually.

The group turned toward him. Shinji spoke first. He sounded displeased. "Emiya?" he said. "What do you want?"

"Hey, Shinji," Shirou greeted, pushing friendliness into his voice. "I wanted to talk to you."

Shinji sneered. "Sorry, Emiya. I'm busy right now." He eyed the group of girls. "I don't really have time for people like you."

Shirou ignored the jab. "Could you make some? It's important."

"Somehow I doubt that," he scoffed. "If it's really so important, you can tell me right now."

"I wanted to hang out with you today," he said casually.

Shinji paused, mouth gaping. He squinted at him. "What's your goal here?"

Shirou shrugged. "We haven't hung out since middle school, that's all. Do I need a reason to reconnect with my friend?" The girls around them made noises.

Shinji snorted. "Well, if you insist, I guess I can show you some kindness. Since you're so desperate."

"Oh, but you have the archery club, right? If you're too busy today, I can ask you on a different day."

Shirou made to leave, but Shinji stopped him. "Wait! I guess I could skip for one day. I do way too much for that club anyway. They should really learn how to function without me."

Shirou suppressed a grimace. Mitsuzuri would repeatedly complain about Shinji's antics in the archery dojo, explaining that he bullied the underclassmen and harassed the female members. But Shirou couldn't voice his disagreement, or else Shinji would be angered. It was already a miracle getting Shinji alone. Just a few more hours, Shirou told himself.

"Great," Shirou said amiably. "Let's go. There's a lot I want to do today."

"Sorry, ladies," Shinji said, addressing the girls he was talking to. "We can pick up where we left off tomorrow." Then, he shot them a wink, and the girls waved back.

Once they were out of earshot from everyone, Shinji gave him a skeptical look. "If you want advice on Tohsaka or whatever, I'm not helping."

He shook his head. "That's not it, Shinji. I just want to have some fun."

"You? Of all people?" Shinji laughed. "The world must be ending."

And so, they went to a popular cafe, buying two caffeinated drinks that Shinji liked. After that, they went to the arcade, spending a few hours playing games against each other. Shinji had more experience, so he won more than Shirou did. It was less tedious than Shirou expected, and Shinji seemed to be enjoying himself. Working up an appetite, they went to a fast food restaurant, where Shinji ordered burgers and fries. They were greasy and fatty and completely unhealthy. The ingredients were pre-processed and unfresh. Shirou could do better.

It was after they had finished eating that Shirou took the initiative. "Let's go to Ryuudou Temple," he suggested.

"Seriously? You can't do anything over there," Shinji replied.

"I want to visit Issei. We haven't spent time together that often." In middle school, Issei would partake in their after school hangouts, albeit infrequently.

"That stuck-up loser?"

Shirou frowned. "Issei isn't a loser."

"Bah. He doesn't know how to have fun. Always looking down on people."

"He has responsibilities," Shirou said. "It's important to fulfill them."

"Not if they take up all your free time," Shinji chided. "What's the point of living if you can't do what you want?"

Shirou had no answer to that, knowing Shinji wouldn't consider any response agreeable. "Come on. Let's just go. It's not that far away, and I'm sure it'll be fun. We can pay our respects together too."

"Do you really want to go that badly?" Shinji asked.

Shirou asserted that he did.

"Fine," Shinji grunted.

Victory, Shirou thought. His entire goal was to bring Shinji to the temple. Shirou's eyes were weak. He couldn't parse if there were worms lurking under Shinji's skin. But Caster could discern the truth with a glance. If Shinji was there, she could see him. But he knew Shinji disliked going to Ryuudou Temple, which is why he had made Shinji more pliable by going to all his favorite places first.

"Well, we're here," Shinji said when they entered the gate. He scoured the grounds with a disappointed eye. "Same old, same old."

"Thanks, Shinji. For indulging me," Shirou said. "I'm going to find Issei."

Before Shinji could respond, Shirou jogged to Caster's residence, barging into her room.

"Shirou," she greeted. "Here for a lesson?"

"Not today," he said. "Could you take a look at the person I brought to Ryuudou Temple with me? He has blue hair and is wearing the same uniform that I am."

"I know who you are describing," she answered. "He walked behind you. I know everything that goes on in this temple. What should I be looking for?"

"Shinji is Sakura's brother. I'm afraid he might be suffering the same way she did," Shirou said earnestly.

To his surprise, Caster brushed him off. "That boy? He's fine. Complete, utterly mundane. He's not even a magus, nor will he ever become one. Is that all?"

Shirou's brow creased. "What? No way. You're lying." Shinji wasn't a bad person in middle school. He had only changed for the worse in high school. What could elicit such a drastic change? The catalyst, Shirou thought, was the worms. Sakura had been emptied by them. Shinji had lost his kindness. It made perfect sense to Shirou. Two sides of the same coin. Brother and sister, subject to the same torment.

"You can check, if you wish. Cut open his body," Caster said morosely. "You'll find not a single worm."

"But that means…" Sakura, tortured day-in and day-out, yet Shinji beat her still. Shirou recalled her dark and purpled skin, hidden under fabric. They dotted her arms and shoulders. She had always tried to conceal them from him. How many times had she succeeded? Shirou gritted his teeth. His last drops of sympathy evaporated.

He inhaled a calming breath. "Thank you for your help, Caster. I'll be leaving now."

Shinji was leaning against a wall, a bored expression on his face. "Finally," he said when he saw Shirou. "Well?"

"Issei is busy," Shirou said tersely. "We should leave."

"We came all this way just to leave like that? What a useless waste of time," he derided.

It wasn't useless, Shirou thought. Now I know who you are. There was nothing he desired more than to throttle Shinji, for all the pain he has inflicted. But Shinji would only take it out on Sakura. "Something came up. I have to go now."

"You really are whimsical today, Emiya. What's gotten into you?" he said, in his mocking tone of voice.

"Nothing, Shinji. Have a good night."

One hand was limp at his side. The other gripped the steel bar, fingers curled and chafed. Against the cries of his protesting flesh, he pulled with all his might, elevating his body until his chin was above the bar. Satisfied, he lowered himself steadily, careful not to injure himself, before dropping to the cold floor.

Panting, Shirou gave himself time to rest. But he could still raise his arms above his head, which indicated that his training was not complete.

Days had passed since he learned of Sakura's plight, and in that time, training was all he could do, so he dove into it wholeheartedly. Every night, without pause, he would exercise until failure. First, his arms, followed by his core, and after that his legs. Then, with a beaten body, he practiced his magecraft. Materializing different objects, he would comprehend their histories and strengthen them to the best of his abilities.

The signal to stop was when he drained himself of all magical energy. Covered in sweat, he waddled to the bathroom, stripped off his clothing, and immersed himself into the warm, refreshing water, letting his aches melt away.

After the bath, he retrieved a comfortable set of clothing to change into. Like the rest of his clothes, his shirt was starting to get snug on him, clinging to his body. He would have to buy some larger sizes in the future. Once changed, he made his futon and prepared for bed.

For the past few days, Shirou had slept in fits, waking and slumbering in cycle. Caster had offered to place a sleeping charm on him, but he had refused, citing the need to conserve mana. The days of fatigue had caught up to him, however, and sleep could evade him no longer. His eyelids were heavy when his head hit the futon. He let them obscure his sight. Mercifully, he did not envision the flames or the worms as darkness seeped in. His dreams were instead of a more pleasant variety. He dreamt of flowers and obsidian, silver and scarlet, sharpened gold and brilliant azure. He slept well.