Chapter 1 the beginning of a new life
The ship was silent, save for the occasional hiss of vents releasing stale air, as Mikado and her team of military officers moved through the wreckage of the derelict laboratory. The vessel, once a place of ambition and scientific discovery, had long since fallen into ruin. Broken panels, shattered glass, and discarded equipment were strewn about like the remnants of a forgotten dream. The air was heavy with the scent of burnt circuits and rust, and a cold, oppressive stillness hung in the atmosphere, making every step feel as if they were intruding on something deeply forgotten.
Mikado's boots made soft echoes as she stepped lightly over the debris, her eyes scanning the room with a practiced sharpness. The flickering lights overhead barely illuminated the shadows that seemed to pulse with a lingering menace. Yet, despite the gloom, Mikado's movements were calm, controlled—a stark contrast to the chaotic surroundings.
Her gaze finally landed on the center of the lab, where a containment pod lay half-buried under a pile of broken equipment. It was the only object in the room that still seemed to hold any significance, despite the surrounding destruction. Something about it called to her.
Without a word, she moved closer, her team following in silence. As she crouched beside the pod, Mikado's heart skipped a beat. Inside, a young boy lay still, his red-and-white hair tangled and wild. His features were delicate, almost fragile, and his eyes—one gold, the other silver—stared vacantly up at her, a hollow emptiness behind them.
"What in the galaxy is this…?" Mikado murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Her voice was quiet but laced with confusion and curiosity.
One of the military officers moved beside her, glancing over the wreckage with a frown. He was the gruff sort—toughened by years of dealing with the darker sides of the universe.
"A test subject, probably. These labs… they're known for experiments like this. Poor kid." His voice was low, edged with a bitter understanding of what had likely transpired here.
Mikado frowned, her fingers hovering over the panel beside the pod. "But he's alive," she muttered, studying the boy closely. "How long has he been here?"
She pressed a button on the console, and the pod hissed open with a long, drawn-out sigh. The boy's eyelids fluttered, and he stirred weakly, his gaze slowly shifting to meet Mikado's. He blinked a few times, as if struggling to focus.
"Wh… whe…?" His voice was faint, barely more than a whisper, as though the words didn't quite belong to him.
Mikado leaned closer, her brow furrowing in concern. She spoke slowly, carefully, trying to bridge the gap between them.
"You're safe now. Can you… understand me?"
The boy's eyes locked onto hers, but there was an unsettling confusion in them. His lips moved again, attempting to repeat her words, but all that came out was a jumbled, incoherent sound. Mikado's heart tightened at the sight.
"What… now?" he asked, his voice still hesitant, but clearer this time. The simple question held so much weight, a raw vulnerability that struck Mikado deeply.
Mikado nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. She didn't know what had happened to him or who he was, but she knew one thing: he wasn't staying here. Not in this place. Not alone.
Glancing around, Mikado spotted a damaged data pad on the floor. She bent to pick it up, scrolling through the contents. Her eyes flickered over the screen, disbelief creeping into her expression as she read aloud the words that flashed across it.
"Subject 01… artificial lifeform… failed experiment. No name. No history."
She paused, her heart sinking as she absorbed the implications of what she was reading. This boy was nothing more than an experiment, a forgotten relic of some distant, cruel project. He had no name, no past, just a blank slate—a product of something deeply wrong.
She scrolled down the damaged display, looking if there was anything more regarding the young boy in front of her. In the end, the only notable thing recorded in the data pad was the result of some kind of a personality test. Only one word was written,
"Shirou"
She looked back at the boy, whose gaze was now unfocused as he tried to sit up. His movements were slow, clumsy, as if he were learning to control his own body for the first time. His confusion was palpable as he glanced up at her with wide, uncertain eyes.
"Who… who are…?" he asked, his voice cracking with the effort.
Mikado's expression softened, her hand gently resting on his shoulder to steady him. "My name is Mikado Ryouko. I'm here to help you," she said, her voice as gentle as she could make it, but firm enough to convey a sense of certainty.
The boy tilted his head, his eyes trying to process the meaning of her words. After a moment, he mimicked her, repeating the name she had given him, though his pronunciation was hesitant and broken.
"Mi… ka… do?"
Mikado smiled, a warmth radiating from her despite the strangeness of the situation. "Yes, that's right. Mikado. And what's your name?"
The boy blinked, his face blank with confusion. He didn't seem to understand the question, his gaze far away. Mikado's smile faltered, and she sighed softly, realizing that even the concept of a name was foreign to him.
Before she could say more, one of the officers spoke up, impatience in his voice.
"We don't have time for this. We need to clear the area before backup arrives."
Mikado didn't look up, her attention still fixed on the boy. "Go ahead," she said, her tone firm. "I'll handle him. He's not staying here."
The officers exchanged uneasy glances but nodded and began moving toward the rest of the lab to secure the area. Mikado turned her focus back to the boy, her expression softening as she considered what to do next.
She glanced at the data pad for an instant and decided to just go with it.
She looked at him gently, her voice calm as she spoke. "Okay, listen to me. We'll call you… Shirou. Is that okay?"
The boy blinked at her, the name sounding foreign in his mouth as he tested it out.
"Shi… rou?"
Mikado smiled again, nodding. "That's right. Shirou. Let's get you out of here."
She helped him to his feet, noticing how unsteady he was. His legs wobbled beneath him, but Mikado supported him with a steadying hand. She already completed the task she was hired to complete anyway
As they made their way through the wreckage, she began speaking to him in simple sentences, pointing to objects and naming them as they passed.
The journey to Earth was long, the transport ship gliding silently through the void of space. Shirou sat next to Mikado, staring out the window at the endless expanse of stars. He looked small, lost in the vastness of the galaxy, yet there was an undeniable curiosity in his eyes.
Mikado, too, was lost in thought. She couldn't help but wonder about the boy's origins, about the experiments that had created him, and what it would mean for him to live in the world that awaited them on Earth. She glanced over at him, noting the way his eyes followed her every movement, as though she were the first constant he ever see in a world that had been completely foreign to him.
"I'm Mikado," she said, breaking the silence, her voice gentle but firm as she pointed to herself.
Shirou hesitated, then pointed to her as well. "Mi… kado."
Mikado nodded with approval. "That's right. Mikado."
She then pointed to him. "And you're Shirou."
He tried to mimic her again, his voice unsure. "Shi… rou?"
Mikado chuckled softly, nodding again. "That's it. Shirou."
She picked up a book from the seat beside her and held it up. "This is a book. Can you say… book?"
Shirou tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he tried to process the unfamiliar word. "Buh… ook?"
"Close," Mikado said encouragingly. "Book."
Shirou repeated, more confidently this time. "Book."
Mikado's face lit up with a small, proud smile. The boy was learning, slowly but surely. She would teach him everything he needed to know, piece by piece. And, in turn, he would teach her what it meant to care for someone so completely lost.
When they finally arrived on Earth, Mikado led Shirou to her home—a place that was both a sanctuary and a place of work. It was simple but comfortable, a mixture of sleek, futuristic design and familiar, Earthly comforts. The moment they stepped through the door, Shirou's eyes widened, taking in the new surroundings with a quiet awe.
This is going to be the beginning of a new chapter in both their lives.
The hum of the transport vehicle subsided as it docked smoothly in Mikado's private garage. The faint metallic echo of the mechanism settling into place filled the space, a sound that was as familiar to Mikado as the rhythm of her own heartbeat. She stepped out into the cool air, pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders. The soft glow of overhead lights illuminated the spacious, minimalist garage, with its polished concrete floor and walls lined with shelves of tools and equipment.
Inside the vehicle, Shirou hesitated. The boy's small frame was stiff, his posture rigid as his heterochromatic eyes darted nervously between Mikado and the unfamiliar surroundings. He clutched the edges of his seat, his pale fingers gripping the fabric so tightly they turned white.
Mikado turned back toward him, her gaze softening. "Come on," she said, her voice calm and reassuring as she extended a hand. "Let's get you inside."
Shirou remained motionless, his thin jacket doing little to shield him from the chill that lingered in the air. He glanced at her outstretched hand, then back at the shadowy corners of the garage as if expecting something to leap out at him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his small hand lifted, trembling slightly, and slipped into hers.
The warmth of his touch surprised Mikado. His hand felt so fragile, so breakable, like a bird that might take flight at any sudden movement. She gave it a gentle squeeze, silently vowing to reassuring him from whatever had made him this wary.
"This way," she said softly, leading him toward the far wall.
To Shirou, the wall appeared solid and featureless, its smooth surface giving no indication of what lay beyond. Mikado stopped in front of it, releasing his hand briefly to press her palm against a sleek keypad embedded into the surface. A faint green light scanned her hand, followed by a quiet beep. With a soft hiss, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden staircase that spiraled downward into a corridor bathed in a pale blue glow.
Shirou froze, his hand darting out to grab the edge of Mikado's coat. "What… is… this?" he asked, his voice small and shaky.
"This is my clinic," Mikado replied, her smile warm and reassuring. She reached for his hand again, and this time, he didn't pull away. "It's where I work."
Shirou hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded and stepped forward. His grip on her hand tightened as they descended the staircase, the soft light casting shadows on the walls. The air grew cooler as they entered the underground space, and the faint hum of machinery became audible.
When they reached the bottom, Shirou's breath caught in his throat. The clinic was unlike anything he'd ever seen. The walls were lined with glowing panels displaying streams of data in alien scripts. Strange, sleek machines hummed softly, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like finish. In the center of the room, a hovering diagnostic drone moved lazily in the air, its soft blue lights pulsating in a steady rhythm.
Shirou's feet remained planted at the base of the stairs, his eyes wide and uncertain. He tugged at Mikado's coat again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wha… what's… that?" He pointed at the drone, his hand trembling.
Mikado followed his gaze and chuckled lightly. "That's just a helper," she explained. "It scans people to make sure they're healthy." She walked over to a nearby table and picked up a small, handheld scanner. "Like this." She waved the device in front of him, and it emitted a soft beep.
Shirou flinched, his body jerking backward as if expecting the device to explode. Mikado immediately knelt in front of him, lowering the scanner and meeting his gaze with a calm, steady expression.
"It's okay," she said gently. "I promise, nothing here will hurt you."
Shirou stared at her, his mismatched eyes searching her face as though trying to find a crack in her words. His breathing slowed, and after a few moments, he nodded hesitantly.
Mikado stood and extended her hand again. "Come on," she said. "Let's head upstairs. You'll like it there—it's much more comfortable."
Shirou hesitated briefly, then took her hand once more. She led him across the room, passing by the sleek equipment and softly glowing panels. Shirou glanced around nervously as they walked, his grip tightening whenever a machine emitted a faint hum or beep.
At the far end of the clinic, Mikado stopped in front of another sleek, metallic door. She pressed a button on the wall, and the door slid open to reveal a second staircase leading upward. The transition was subtle but immediate; the cool, sterile ambiance of the clinic began to fade as Mikado guided Shirou toward a second staircase that led out of the clinic and into the upper levels of the house. The moment they stepped onto the first step, a soft, warm glow lit the stairwell, replacing the sterile blue tones of the underground clinic with hues of gold and amber. The walls here were less metallic, a textured plaster painted in a calming earthy tone that contrasted sharply with the sleek, futuristic design below.
The stairs wound upward, curving slightly as they ascended toward the living quarters. Mikado glanced over her shoulder at Shirou, who followed closely, still clutching the edge of her coat. His heterochromatic eyes scanned his surroundings warily, but he seemed less tense than before.
"This is where I live," Mikado explained as they climbed. "The clinic is just a part of it. Upstairs is a lot cozier—I think you'll like it."
The stairs opened into a wide, open-plan living area that made Shirou stop in his tracks. The transition was stark, almost as though they had stepped into an entirely different building. The underground clinic had been all clean lines and quiet efficiency, but the upstairs felt alive—warm, inviting, and full of subtle details that hinted at a blend of earthly and alien influences.
Mikado's home was a two-story villa above ground, a charming yet modern structure nestled on the edge of a small forest. From the outside, it appeared relatively modest—a pale stone façade with large windows and a sloping, shingle roof. However, the interior revealed a design philosophy that straddled two worlds: human comfort and alien technology.
The main living area featured high ceilings with exposed wooden beams that gave the space a rustic charm. The walls were decorated with a mix of earthy paintings and holographic panels that displayed serene landscapes. One panel depicted a forest with leaves that shimmered faintly, as though catching the sunlight, while another showed a distant alien ocean, its waves glowing faintly under a triple moon.
To Shirou's right was a kitchen that blended sleek alien technology with a cozy, earthly aesthetic. The counters appeared to be made of polished stone, but subtle glowing lines hinted at built-in tech. The refrigerator emitted a soft hum, its surface displaying a digital interface that looked like an alien script. Mikado's touch was evident everywhere; small pots of plants sat along the windowsill, their leaves a mix of earthly green and a vibrant, glowing blue.
"Welcome home," Mikado said, gesturing with a smile.
Shirou didn't move. His gaze darted around the room, taking in every detail with wide eyes. The sight of the high ceilings, the soft rugs that covered sections of the hardwood floor, and the warm light from floating lamps overhead seemed to overwhelm him.
"Is… this all yours?" he asked, his voice hesitant.
Mikado nodded. "Every bit of it. Well, the part above ground anyway. The clinic downstairs is for work. This is where I relax, eat, and sleep."
Shirou finally stepped fully into the space, his bare feet sinking into a plush rug near the couch. He looked down, wiggling his toes slightly as if testing the texture. Then his gaze shifted toward the holographic forest panel on the wall. He moved toward it slowly, his hand extending as if to touch the shimmering leaves.
"It's not real," Mikado explained, walking over to him. "It's a hologram. Just something to make the place feel more alive."
Shirou's hand stopped just shy of the display, and his mismatched eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and awe. "It looks… real," he murmured.
Mikado chuckled. "That's the point. But I promise, there's a real forest just outside the house. You'll get to see it when you're ready."
Shirou turned to look at her, his expression uncertain. "Outside?"
Mikado nodded. "We'll get to that later. For now, let's focus on getting you comfortable."
She led him toward the dining area, a cozy nook adjacent to the kitchen. The dining table was made of polished wood, its surface gleaming faintly under the soft light of a floating lamp above it. Two plates of food were already set out, steam rising gently from the dishes.
"Here we go," Mikado said, pulling out a chair and motioning for Shirou to sit.
He approached cautiously, his movements stiff and deliberate. When he finally slid into the chair, he sat straight-backed, as though unsure how to relax. His gaze flicked to the plate in front of him—a simple meal of steamed vegetables and a protein dish that gave off a savory aroma.
"Go on," Mikado said as she took her seat across from him. "It's premade food, but I promise it's good." Mikado informed her young charge.
"Try it. You're probably starving."
Shirou hesitated, glancing between Mikado and the food. Slowly, he reached for the fork, gripping it awkwardly in his hand. His movements were hesitant and clumsy, as though he were holding the utensil for the first time. After a few fumbling attempts, he managed to spear a piece of food and bring it to his mouth.
The moment he tasted it, his expression changed. His mismatched eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly in surprise.
"It's… good," he said softly, almost as if he didn't believe it himself.
Mikado smiled, leaning her chin on her hand as she watched him. "I'm glad you like it. Eat as much as you want—there's plenty more where that came from."
Encouraged by her words, Shirou took another bite, then another. His movements were still tentative, but the initial hesitation began to fade as he ate. Mikado noticed how his shoulders, which had been hunched with tension since they'd entered the house, began to relax slightly.
As Shirou ate, his gaze wandered around the room, taking in the soft glow of the floating lamps, the cozy furniture, and the faint hum of the alien appliances in the background. Mikado remained quiet, letting him acclimate at his own pace.
After a while, Shirou set his fork down, his plate nearly empty. He glanced at Mikado, his expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty.
"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mikado's smile softened. "You're welcome. There's plenty more to show you, but for now, let's just take it one step at a time."
Shirou nodded, his mismatched eyes meeting hers briefly before darting away again. Despite his lingering nervousness, there was a flicker of something new in his expression—a glimmer of trust.
For Mikado, that small spark was enough.
When they arrived to her home, it was already past the daylight.
The evening stretched on in a gentle calm as Mikado led Shirou up the polished wooden staircase to the second floor of her home. The warm glow of ambient lighting illuminated their path, throwing soft, dancing shadows on the walls. Minimalist artwork adorned the hallway, subtle yet elegant, their muted tones providing a sense of serenity. But none of this caught Shirou's attention. His focus darted elsewhere—the faint hum of machinery in the distance, the gentle creak of the stairs beneath their feet, and the rhythmic sound of Mikado's steps ahead of him.
Shirou clung tightly to the edge of Mikado's coat, his small hands gripping the fabric as though it were a lifeline. His mismatched eyes, one silver and one gold, scanned every corner with the nervous energy of someone unaccustomed to such quiet. Despite Mikado's steady presence, he couldn't shake the undercurrent of unease that had followed him since they entered the house.
"Almost there," Mikado murmured, her voice a steadying anchor against his rising anxiety. She glanced down at him briefly, her emerald eyes softening.
He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line as he trudged up the stairs behind her.
At the top, Mikado stopped before a small door painted a calming shade of blue. Its unassuming presence seemed almost deliberate, a gentle contrast to the polished wood of the hallway. With a quiet click, Mikado turned the handle and pushed the door open, revealing the room beyond.
The space was modest yet inviting. A single bed, neatly made with soft white sheets and a colorful patchwork quilt, sat against one wall. The quilt's vibrant hues gave the room a sense of warmth and familiarity, as though it had been lovingly placed there just for him. A small desk stood by the window, its surface uncluttered except for a simple lamp. The curtains were partially drawn, allowing a faint beam of moonlight to filter through. On the bedside table, a small nightlight glowed softly, casting a gentle halo of light that chased away the deeper shadows.
"This is your room, Shirou," Mikado said, stepping aside to give him a full view. Her tone was kind and encouraging. "You'll sleep here tonight. It's all yours."
Shirou stopped just shy of the doorway, his hand tightening on her coat. His mismatched eyes roved over the room, lingering on the bed, the window, and the softly glowing nightlight. Though it looked inviting, something about the space made him hesitate. His small frame remained stiff, and a faint tremor ran through him.
"It's okay," Mikado said again, her voice gentle as she crouched slightly to meet his gaze. "You're safe here. This room is just for you."
But Shirou didn't move. Instead, he shook his head, his grip on her coat unyielding. He took a small step backward, his voice barely audible as he whispered, "Alone… no. Scary."
Mikado knelt down to meet his gaze, her expression softening as she noticed the fear in his mismatched eyes. "I know it feels scary, Shirou," she said gently. "But it's just a new place. Once you get used to it, I promise it won't feel so bad."
He shook his head again, his hands still clutching her coat. "No… don't want to. Scary," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.
Mikado sighed softly, standing and walking to the bedside table. She picked up the glowing nightlight and knelt in front of him again, holding the small device in her palm. "Look at this," she said, turning it on and off with a flick of her fingers. The light pulsed gently, casting rhythmic shadows across the walls. "It's like a little guardian. It'll keep your room bright enough so it's not too dark. Nothing will hurt you while it's on."
Shirou stared at the nightlight for a moment, his head tilting slightly as if considering her words. But then he looked back at her, his mismatched eyes filled with quiet desperation. "No," he said again, more firmly this time. "Don't want. Want… Mikado. Stay… with me."
Mikado hesitated, taken aback by his insistence. "You want me to stay here? With you?"
Shirou nodded quickly, his small hands now clutching her sleeve. "Safe… with Mikado. No alone."
Mikado's shoulders sagged slightly, a deep understanding settling over her. She could see the fear etched into his every movement, the kind of fear that wouldn't be eased by soft lights or reassuring words. For someone like Shirou, whose entire life had been filled with cold, clinical isolation, the idea of being left alone in an unfamiliar place was simply too much.
"Shirou…" she began, her voice soft but tinged with concern. "You'll have to learn to sleep on your own eventually. You're safe here, I promise. No one will hurt you."
He shook his head stubbornly, his grip on her sleeve tightening. "No alone," he said again, his voice trembling but resolute.
Mikado sighed, not out of frustration but out of a deep empathy for the boy standing before her. She reached out and ruffled his hair gently, the gesture affectionate. "Alright," she said softly, relenting. "If you don't want to stay here tonight, we'll figure something else out."
Shirou looked up at her, his expression a mix of relief and gratitude.
"Come on," Mikado said, holding out her hand to him. "Let's go to my room. You can stay with me tonight."
Shirou's face lit up with visible relief, and he took her hand without hesitation. Together, they left the blue room behind and walked down the hallway to Mikado's bedroom.
Mikado's bedroom was a sanctuary of understated elegance and warmth, reflecting the quiet balance she maintained between her professional life and personal solace. The room was spacious but not ostentatious, with walls painted in muted earth tones that radiated calm. A large, inviting bed stood at its center, draped in a plush duvet of cream and gold and surrounded by an assortment of soft pillows. Flanking the bed were sleek, minimalistic nightstands, each adorned with small, personal touches—a vase of fresh flowers on one and a neatly stacked set of books on the other.
A floor-to-ceiling window, veiled by sheer curtains, allowed a gentle stream of moonlight to filter into the space. The silver glow cast soft, shifting patterns across the polished wooden floor, adding to the room's tranquil atmosphere. Despite this, Shirou clung tightly to Mikado's arm, his small frame trembling as she guided him inside.
His mismatched eyes, one silver and the other gold, roamed the room nervously. Every shadow, every faint sound seemed to hold his attention as though he were bracing for danger. Mikado noticed the way his grip on her arm tightened with each hesitant step.
"Come on," she said gently, giving him a soft nudge toward the bed. "It's just a room, Shirou. Nothing here is going to hurt you."
She patted the edge of the mattress and sat down herself, her movements slow and deliberate. "See? Just a bed. Soft, warm, and safe. Why don't you try it?"
Shirou hesitated, his feet rooted to the floor. He looked at her, then at the bed, his expression a mix of doubt and curiosity. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he shuffled forward and reached out to touch the edge of the blanket. His fingers clutched the fabric tightly, and after a long pause, he finally climbed onto the mattress.
The bed sank slightly under his weight, and Shirou flinched at the sensation before settling cautiously beneath the covers. He curled into a tight ball, his small form barely taking up a corner of the expansive bed. The warmth of the blanket seemed to envelop him like a shield, and a soft, hesitant sigh escaped his lips.
"Safe… here?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper as he looked up at Mikado with wide, searching eyes.
Mikado's heart ached at his vulnerability. She smiled softly and lay down beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. Adjusting a pillow beneath her head, she rested on her side to face him. "Yes, Shirou," she said, her voice firm but soothing. "You're safe here. I'll always make sure of that."
For a moment, his gaze lingered on her face, as if trying to discern whether her words could truly be trusted. Then, slowly, the tension in his small body began to fade. He nestled deeper into the blanket, letting its warmth ease his worries.
To help him relax further, Mikado began to hum a soft lullaby—a melody she remembered from her own childhood on Nirvalen. The tune was gentle and unhurried, its rhythm like the ebb and flow of a calm tide. As she hummed, she watched Shirou's eyes flutter closed, his breathing gradually evening out.
The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated his peaceful face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he looked at ease. Mikado reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment on his soft red-and-white locks.
"Whatever they did to you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "I'll make sure you never feel alone again."
Her words were more than a promise—they were a vow. Mikado had seen the scars, both visible and hidden, that Shirou carried. She knew that healing wouldn't come easily or quickly, but she was determined to give him the life he deserved, one filled with safety, kindness, and hope.
The room grew quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of the clinic below and the gentle rhythm of their breathing. Mikado lay still, her hand resting protectively near Shirou's shoulder. Her eyes traced the patterns of moonlight on the ceiling as her thoughts drifted.
For a boy who had been through so much, trust was an incredible gift, and Shirou had given it to her completely. It was a fragile thing, and Mikado felt the weight of it pressing on her. She had to be be careful—for him, if not for herself.
As if sensing her resolve, Shirou stirred slightly in his sleep. His small hand reached out from beneath the blanket, fumbling blindly until it found hers. His fingers curled around hers, holding on with surprising strength for someone so vulnerable.
Mikado's breath caught at the simple gesture. Her chest tightened with a mix of sorrow and determination. She squeezed his hand gently, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a silent reassurance.
"You're safe now," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
Shirou didn't respond—he was already lost in the depths of sleep. His face was calm, his body relaxed against the mattress. Mikado watched him for a while longer, taking comfort in the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he wasn't haunted by the shadows of his past.
Eventually, Mikado allowed herself to close her eyes as well. Her exhaustion, both physical and emotional, began to take hold. Yet even as sleep claimed her, her hand remained in Shirou's, a silent reassurance of her unwavering presence.
The moonlight continued its gentle watch over them, painting the room in its silvery glow. Outside, the world remained unpredictable and full of dangers. But here, within the quiet sanctuary of Mikado's bedroom, there was peace.
author's note:
i guess i have to warn any new reader, that this fanfiction is going to contain older woman/younger boy pairing. As the chapter would suggest, the pair relationship may look like a mother/son pairing. But that is just how i decided to develop the characters. What i want is a somewhat evolving relationship and i'm not going to filter myself yet.
If you are disconforted by the subject, you don't have to force yourself to keep reading.
Thank you for your attention, have a nice day.