Special thanks to TungstenCat for the immense help beta-reading this chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own Type-Moon or Nan Hao & Shang Feng content.
He dreamed of flames again.
The nightmare was the same, yet it felt sharper this time, more visceral. He walked among the ruins, his legs moving as if guided by some unseen force, carrying him forward through the desolation against his will. The world around him was a wasteland of ash and death he knew by heart, the air thick with smoke that clawed at his throat and lungs with every ragged breath. His eyes burned, tears streaming down his face not out of grief, but out of necessity—just to keep them functioning for another hour, another minute, another second.
Sometimes, he wished they would fail. Darkness would be a mercy, sparing him the sight of the carnage that stretched endlessly before him. The corpses were everywhere, charred and twisted, their forms barely recognizable as human. Some had died crawling, their final moments spent clawing at the scorched earth in a futile attempt to escape. Others lay huddled together, their blackened arms still wrapped around loved ones, as if their embrace could shield them from the inferno as it consumed them all the same. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, a nauseating miasma that made his stomach churn. He had retched until there was nothing left, until his body had nothing more to give.
Discard sight. Discard scent. Keep moving.
The ground beneath him was molten, the heat searing through the tattered remains of his shoes. Each step sent waves of agony shooting through his body, but he pressed on, driven by something he could no longer name. He stumbled over a jagged piece of concrete, collapsing onto the scorching earth. The pain was unbearable—his hands and face burned as they pressed against the ground, but his throat was too raw to scream. His muscles cried for him, every fiber of his being heavy and sluggish, as though his blood had turned to liquid lead. And then the voices came, the screams of the dead, piercing and relentless, biting into his skull like fangs. They bite to give him strength, to survive…but they also bite to punish him, who still lives. A perfect recipe of his own guilt's concoction.
Discard touch. Discard sound. Keep moving.
Somehow, he found the strength to rise again. The screams had faded into a distant hum, the world around him reduced to a blur of ash and smoke. He couldn't hear much anymore, couldn't see much either, but he kept his hands pressed tightly over his ears, as if the gesture could block out the horrors he could no longer perceive. His eyes remained fixed ahead, unblinking, as he climbed the hill of rubble, each step a battle against the weight of his own exhaustion.
And then, something grabbed him.
A hand, blackened and brittle, closed around his ankle with a grip that defied reason. The pain was immediate, searing through his skin like a flood of burning oil. It was a sensation he had long since learned to ignore, one he thought he had left behind. But this was different—this pain was alive, vicious, and it demanded his attention. It forced him to look back, to confront the abyss he had crossed, to expose his soul to its unrelenting gaze.
His eyes fell on the burned figure clinging to him, its face a grotesque mask of charred flesh and hollow sockets. Its grip tightened, the bones in his ankle creaking under the pressure. The voices returned, louder now, more insistent—worthless, selfish, coward, wretch—each word grinding against his brain like shards of broken glass. The heat intensified, the air around him shimmering with a malignant energy which seemed to feed on his suffering. It was a perfect torment, unyielding and all-consuming.
Make it stop. Please, make it st-.
Shirou snapped awake with a start, his chest heaving as his lungs hungered for air. A prickling pain spread across his skin, accompanied by an intense ringing in his ears. The young magus breathed, letting the initial shock wash over him until his body slowly caught up to reality. Shirou sat on the mat in silence as minutes ticked by, then sighed and rose rose to his feet.
It was fifteen minutes earlier than the usual time he woke up, but Shirou didn't entertain the notion he could get back to sleep after that nightmare . He had learned his lesson after the tenth attempt. The young man sighed again, deciding to make better use of his time than to sit and wallow in a miserable vision he knew by heart. A good workout should do it.
Shirou quickly readied himself for some training, careful not to wake up his new housemates. It felt different, having new people staying at his house. The silence this early in the morning was familiar, yet not. He never quite realized how empty his home was before, the vacant rooms and constant silence now replaced with the presence of his housemates.
Each of the four had neatly marked their rooms with trinkets attached to the door. A small detail he wouldn't have noticed before, but their presence certainly made the place more vibrant in their own unique way.
Shirou stopped when he noticed the sign attached to the door of Shang Feng's room. It was impossible not to spot the large letters surrounded by neon lights, not to mention the disconcerting stop sign and radioactive warning sign beside it.
Beyond this door, lies the sacred abode of King Feng. Do not disturb unless urgent. Never enter if you're two heads shorter than me. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.
Shirou chose to believe Feng was being metaphorical in this instance. Magic casters or not, putting a threat like this out in the open was probably just a bluff. At least the others were less confrontational about what they put on their doors…
Beyond this door, lies the sacred grounds of King Hao. Any who disturbs this household shall face his wrath.
Bai Yanli here :3.
Bai Yuzhao's room. No idiots allowed.
…relatively speaking, at least. It was charming in its own way, even if the presence of other spell casters around will take some getting used to.
Slowly stepping past their rooms, he made his way to the entrance only to find someone else getting ready to leave.
"Good morning, senior Bai." Shirou greeted the petite girl, sitting beside her as he put on his shoes.
"Good morning, Shirou." Bai Yuzhao replied, giving her host a simple nod. "Up for a jog, too?"
"Yes. It's how I start my morning routine." Shirou said as the two of them walked out of the house, feeling the cold morning breeze brush against his face. The two had a light stretch, then they set off at a steady pace. Shirou took the lead, showing his new senior around the neighborhood while they exercised.
Yuzhao kept pace with him, her breath steady and balanced as time went by. Within twenty minutes, the two of them left the neighborhood for the shopping district, as the girl picked up the pace, alternating between sprints and measured strides. Although Shirou didn't expect the sudden shift, he gamely matched her tempo. An extra workout could only help him this morning.
It took him ten minutes of being subjected to the increasingly torturous pace to realize he made a big mistake.
His legs burned with each switch up, his muscles slowly turning to lead as he struggled to catch up to the petite girl. His breathing was turning chaotic, the increasing exertion gradually eating away at his stamina with gusto. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat palpable in his ear as he grit his teeth and rushed ahead once more. Still, he wouldn't let himself fall behind. Closer and closer he got to Yuzhao, fighting against his body's protests if it meant winning another inch.
The young girl in front of him didn't seem even winded by the merciless pacing, her face locked in unyielding focus. Sweat dripped down her face, her even breaths releasing in bursts of vapor against the chilly breeze. Her steps remained measured compared to her companion's heavy thumps, and she cast a curious glance at Shirou when he finally managed to catch up.
He was starting to look haggard, he knew. His breathing was already a mess, accumulating fatigue and hunger for oxygen creating inconsistencies which ate away at his stamina much faster. Still, Shirou fought on stubbornly and tried his best to fix his stance as many times as he was able to.
Yuzhao's lips moved for a brief moment, before she decided to match her junior's efforts.
"Don't fall too far behind." She let out a deep breath before dashing ahead in earnest. Her foot slammed against the concrete, cracking the sidewalk as she ran ahead, leaving Shirou behind to watch in shock.
He didn't have time to question the inhuman strength and speed, his shock drowned out by his aching muscles and stinging chest. Although he had concerns about displaying such feats in public, he assumed his new housemate knew what she was doing.
…at least he hoped so when he ran past a bewildered cyclist passing by them. This was his first time interacting with Magi his age, so he didn't know if this was routine or he had ended up with ecc–
You know what? He didn't even need to ask that, all things considered.
'Less thinking, more running.' Shirou reminded himself as the distance between them kept growing. He slowed down for a minute, taking deep breaths and trying to mimic Yuzhao's posture before he dashed ahead once more. Pain raced up his legs, his lungs stinging from the abusive strain he put them through. He endured it all, exhaustion and muscle aches a far easier opponent than frying his own nerves.
One foot in front of the other. Faster. Stronger.
The gap was getting wider still, but at a slower rate. Shirou focused ahead, ignoring his surroundings as he pushed further. It wasn't enough still, he needed to push further. He was making progress, an inch at a time. He just needed more–
Shirou watched as Yuzhao began to slow down near a grocery store, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally caught up to his senior. He flinched as all the fatigue he pushed through came back in full, a slight wobble in his step as he joined Yuzhao to perform some stretches.
"How are you holding up? Nothing unusual from your circuits?" Yuzhao asked, cracking her neck and stretching her limbs. If it weren't for her sweaty face and wet towel, no one would've known they've spent the better part of an hour racing their way.
"Nothing unusual, really. I was a bit nauseous for a few minutes but have been fine ever since." Shirou replied, idly thinking back to the recent shifts in his magecraft training following the group's arrival. A part of him was still trying to make sense of the fact his training method was wrong all along, spending many hours torturing himself day in and day out creating makeshift circuits while neglecting the real circuits he had.
He was initially confused, trying to understand why his father would teach him in such a catastrophic manner…until he remembered his adoptive father also managed to burn water while trying to cook a meal. It was a sobering reminder of Kiritsugu Emiya's capacity to break and ruin everything he touched, even unintentionally.
All in all, Shirou was just grateful he didn't need to keep frying his nerves every day, even if the resolution left him feeling completely embarrassed in front of his peers. The fact that Nan Hao and Shang Feng kept smirking at him the entire following day only solidified his desire to move past this unfortunate mistake and forget about it completely.
"Good." Yuzhao said, passing him a bottle of water. "You should take it easy for the time being. Let your circuits slowly acclimate to usage until they make a full recovery," she added, beckoning Shirou as they began walking home. Despite the intense sprint, Yuzhao's footwork and breath remained as balanced as ever .
The more he paid attention to her, the more he noticed the subtle differences between them. The way she effortlessly performed the same rhythmic breaths others had to actively focus on during workouts, the measured footwork she maintained even when she was lazily stretching, even the unnatural twitches of her muscles every now and then.
Then there was the constant itch in his nose ever since they started jogging.
"Do you use magecraft in all your workouts, senior Bai?" he asked, focusing on her pacing as she turned his way.
"Something like that. I know a thing or two around breathing and walking techniques. Part of being a martial artist, after all." Yuzhao shrugged, keeping up the same tempo effortlessly. "It's how I use Magecraft most of the time, plus the heat helps with warm ups."
"I see." Shirou hid his lingering confusion as well as he could. The finer details of different forms of Magecraft were beyond a third-rate spell caster like him, but he could definitely appreciate the ways Yuzhao applied hers. He briefly pondered mimicking her style, but thought better than to try the more he observed the girl in action.
Every step, every breath, was fine-tuned and maintained without so much as a conscious thought. Even when she yawned, or popped her shoulders, her body remained completely immersed in a world of its own. He should know, it was a state he achieved each time he held a bow back in the archery club. It was weird seeing it from an outside perspective, a bit unsettling even.
Did he look like that to Mitsuzuri and the others during Archery practice?
"So, ready for round two?" Yuzhao's voice snapped him from his thoughts. His senior was already stretching her legs. "It should be just enough to get us ready for the real training if you're up for it," she added with what Shirou swore was a sadistic glint in her eyes. It was so fast, easily mistaken for his imagination were it not for the tiny quirk of Yuzhao's lip as she watched him.
Shirou swallowed nervously, his legs protesting against more potential abuse after the first bout. His body and his mind warred against each other, stuck between the repercussions of suffering the petite menace's torturous training and the ever-present desire to grow stronger for the sake of his cherished ideal. While Shirou had never slacked off on his training regiment, seeing the huge gap between him and Yuzhao made him realize he could push even harder.
"I'm ready. Let's do this," Shirou replied, as each muscle in his body screamed. Pain was temporary, the young man comforted himself. It will shift into strength, endurance and stamina, he thought, even as a part of him prayed there would be something left to grow after another round of pure pain.
As the two of them sprung into a full blown sprint, Shirou realized he had a long way to go, figuratively and literally, before he grew stronger. His mind was too focused on surviving the immediate task to realize another detail, one which struck clarity into his exhausted brain when the two of them finally arrived back home.
This run was still just a warm-up according to Yuzhao.
'Maybe I wasn't ready…' Now here he was, sprawled on the smooth wooden floor of his dojo with his heart ready to burst while Yuzhao stared down at him. Shirou met her indifferent gaze, genuinely wondering if she was enjoying tormenting him.
Then she crouched next to him, getting real close…only to untie her shoe laces, and then tie them back again.
"Is that all you got?" Her casual tone bordered on pure, unadulterated condescension. Yuzhao was goading him, that much was evident. She was toying with him, playing at his weak spot by offering more intense training.
Shirou hated to admit it, but it worked. "I can still go on."
He spoke through labored heaves, pushing himself back on his feet one more time. He didn't mind the playful provocation, nor did he endure out of a competitive impulse. So long as he could better himself, to get even an inch closer to his dream, he would welcome any amount of pain.
"Good. It's time for some sparring." Yuzhao said, cracking her knuckles before she took a couple of hand wraps. She threw the spares at him, before she began tying them over her knuckles and wrists.
Looking at the hand wraps, hesitation came back to Shirou with a vengeance. Completely spent as he was, the aspiring ally of justice wondered if he might have bitten off more than he could chew this time around. He couldn't deny feeling somewhat satisfied with surpassing his usual limit this morning, the aches across his body proof of his hard work.
The combat side of things was too tempting, though. Having a senior who could instruct him in hand to hand combat was a rare opportunity, especially when it came from a fellow spell caster. For a brief moment, Shirou Emiya felt like things were looking up for him in the foreseeable future.
Then he felt a strong breeze wash over him, making his sweaty body shiver.
Shirou sneezed, looking at the dojo windows. He was sure he closed them, and sure enough none of them were opened. 'How in the–' Shirou's thoughts stopped as he finished putting on the wraps, his gaze finally settling back on his sparring opponent as she went through her forms…
…Now Shirou wasn't an expert martial artist, nor was he an experienced magus, but he wasn't so clueless as to ignore the strong gusts of wind each of Yuzhao's strikes made. Human beings generally didn't do that. Shirou also guessed getting hit by one of those punches or kicks would get him closer to the 'In Memorial' section of the local news than anywhere close to being a hero of justice.
Idly he wondered if Yuzhao was actually plotting to murder him, flinching as he felt the floor under them groan as she finished her preparations with a powerful stomp.
"This is our first spar, so I'm just going to get a measure of you." Yuzhao said, the predatory glint in her eyes filling her new junior with dread. The frightful aura oozing from her petite figure made it hard to be convinced this would be just a regular spar. "Ready yourself."
Shirou immediately obeyed, taking position and raising his arms to protect his face and midsection as much as possible. It was their first training session, he reminded himself, and drew some comfort from the fact that Sakura would be here for breakfast in an hour or so. On the other hand, that she'd have an hour to beat him to a pulp was far from comforting.
'No. This is what I need to get stronger.' Shirou reminded himself, relaxing his wrists before clenching his fists as he tentatively extended one closed hand towards Yuzhao's outstretched own. For a brief moment, he wondered why he was so hesitant, like a constant annoying voice in the back of his head desperately warning him of imminent threats.
It didn't matter in the end. Shirou Emiya was a man who improved through continuous effort, be it doing high jumps, magecraft, or martial arts. All he had to do was roll with the punches, same as he always did…even if every fiber of his being was telling him it was a bad idea. Kinda like whenever he used to fry his nerves in a half-baked coin flip of life and death every night.
Now that was a sobering thought. Now where was he? Oh right.
Roll. with. the. pun–
'A new beautiful day in the city of Fuyuki, Japan.' Shang Feng thought, casually walking through the Emiya residence in his bunny pajamas. Standing in front of the garden, the young man sipped on his juice as he enjoyed the fresh morning air of a nice sunny day. It almost made the terrible torment of sharing his living space with Yuzhao tolerable. Almost.
He'd already begun fortifying his room with as many anti-prez defenses as he could manage within the boundaries of Japanese and international laws. Shang Feng even went as far as to add a clear sign for the height requirement to enter his room, a courteous warning and potential legal defense for any court trial.
Dealing with a midget gorilla aside, Shang Feng was determined to make the most of this new adventure! How would he start working on that, some would ask. The answer was rather evident.
Shang Feng looked at his phone, watching the digital timer slowly tick down to the last few seconds.
"Three. Two. One," he counted, taking a sip of his drink just as the timer ended. There was a distinct sound of splashing water in the room to his left, accompanied by a loud sound of gunfire lasting for a couple of seconds.
The door slid open and Nan Hao slowly walked out. Drenched as he was, the guy took a deep breath before he calmly walked up to Shang Feng and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.
"Do you want to die?" he asked, brow twitching as he rolled his shoulder. Magic circuits lit up, energy flowing within the young man's body as he clenched his fist.
Shang Feng remained wholly unimpressed, sipping his drink calmly.
"So shallow, my son. The sun is up but you're wasting your life away in petty dreams." He admonished his friend, shaking his head in disappointment. "Aunt Nan asked me to take care of you, so I'm giving it my all for her happiness. Trust in me."
He nodded solemnly at Nan Hao before patting his head…and proceeding to wipe his hand with his friend's prized Kamen Rider shirt.
Nan Hao found the words inspiring. Inspiring enough to reinforce his body a few more notches. He could easily bury the body before anyone noticed. The student council president wouldn't mind anyways.
Just as he was about to punch Shang Feng, a figure burst through the nearby dojo's wall and crashed into him.
Nan Hao winced from where he'd landed after flying through several rooms and their contents, shaking off the momentary confusion to check his surroundings. He blinked, realizing their newest brother was groaning on top of him.
"Are you alright, brother Shirou?" Nan Hao asked, taking in the destruction they left in their short flight.
Shirou could only wince in response, his muscles refusing to obey his commands as he tried to push himself off Nan Hao.
"Not…really…" he wheezed out, trying to ignore the fact he was sent flying through the air by a one-inch punch. It was easier to tell which parts of his body didn't scream in pain. All he wanted to do was try to reinforce his body, and the next thing he knew a wrecking ball slammed against his solar plexus.
The two boys looked behind them, finding Shang Feng casually watching them while dusting off his clothes. He didn't even look fazed by what just happened, so much so Shirou wondered if Feng was even worried about their current state. Nevermind the fact that the dojo and much of the house were a mess right now, and they needed a solution before Sakura or Fuji-nee arrived.
Not even asking if they needed help? Seriously?
"Let me guess; the pig did it?" Shang Feng asked, completely oblivious to the figure right behind him.
You know what? Nevermind. It's better if he never spoke.
Shirou Emiya wondered how one man could have so much audacity and courage, seeing Shang Feng completely unfazed by the overwhelming aura of death oozing from Yuzhao's body. His own face paled slightly when he saw the murderous look in his senior's eyes, hoping and praying he wouldn't be spending the third day with his tenants at a police station.
Yuzhao cleared her throat, finally getting a reaction from the insufferable idiot in front of her. Shirou sighed and closed his eyes, wondering if he'd still have a house to call home before the day began.
By the time Shang Feng turned his head, it was already too late. In a blink, her foot connected with a thick skull, sending Shang Feng flying…right into the other two and pushing the three of them through another paper wall.
The boys were a mess as they lay on the floor, their eyes meeting Yanli's own as their friend paused mid drawing. It took them a moment to figure out they'd accidentally intruded into her room. Painting equipment and immaculate drawings surrounded them.
"I'm sorry, Miss Yanli. This was an accident," Shirou hurriedly apologized, flinching as he tried to push the other two off of him. It would've helped if Shang Feng wasn't completely unconscious, or if Nan Hao would snap out of whatever trance he was in.
"I guess it was worth it." Nan Hao whispered, watching Yanli with a peaceful smile.
'That's not the problem here, Hao.' Shirou screamed internally, mortified at the never-ending chastisement he'd get from Fuji-nee if she heard of this. It was already bad enough he completely ruined her personal space, but even some of her works got damaged in the process.
For goodness sake, the girl's face was getting redder by the second. It must have been a complete shock and invasion of privacy to burst into her personal space like this…
"It's alright." Yanli replied shyly, her eyes watching the three boys with a glint that made them shiver. "I've got plenty of mental notes." She took out a new sheet and started drawing.
…wait, what was that supposed to mean? And why was she blushing so much if it was fine?
"Hey, Yanli. I need you to fix the house and the dojo asap," Yuzhao said, walking through the hole the three had made. She casually kicked Shang Feng's limp body off Shirou and out of the room.
"Why don't you do it?" Yanli asked, the lines of her newest work rapidly beginning to take a likeness of the boys living with them. She had to strike while the metal was hot, before the inspiration was gone! She had no idea Shirou was like her classmates, but a part of her could see the artistic potential the three of them held.
"I'm your big sister," Yuzhao answered, turning back to Yanli after throwing Nan Hao out of her sister's room. She helped Shirou up, holding him steady as he gathered his bearings.
"You think you're all that, then?" Yanli said, her mind too busy maintaining the image of the boys to carefully watch her words. Once her brain caught up to what she's said, Yanli stopped and slowly raised her head to see her big sister's hawkish gaze centered completely on her.
"Care to repeat that?"
"As you command," Yanli replied without missing a beat, jumping to her feet and running out of the room.
Shirou Emiya stood in silence, calmly letting the chaos unfold before him. He turned to Yuzhao, offering a small bow.
"Excuse me, senior Bai. I'm going to take a shower," he said, turning on his heel and promptly leaving the room. Shirou offered a prayer to the unconscious Shang Feng as the poor dude was dragged by his foot by Nan Hao, wondering how the paper walls were fixed so quickly.
Curious, Shirou took a peek outside. He saw Yanli standing in front of the hole his body made through the dojo's wall as well as the nearby room. The young girl was painting again, each stroke of her pen matched by gradual and seamless reconstruction of the broken wood. From the shattered pieces of paper down to the tiny splinters, everything returned to its original state in front of his very eyes.
Well, that was his most immediate concern resolved. Silver linings.
With a heart filled with relief and muscles screaming bloody murder, Shirou got in his bath and sighed as he sat down in the warm water. With some peace and quiet at long last, the young magus actually felt satisfied with the amount of work he managed to accomplish. While Yuzhao certainly pushed him to the brink and quite literally punched him through the walls of his own home, it didn't take away from the gains he stood to make with a more intense morning routine.
Was he attempting to cope with the absurd amount of oddities he was just made to endure? Quite. The human mind does try its best not to go insane all the time, the mind of a magus even more so.
He'll just enjoy this precious reprieve while he had the ch–
"Brother Shirou, could you pass me the shampoo next to you?" Nan Hao asked, scrubbing his back while Shang Feng brushed his teeth.
"Oh, sure. Here you go." Shirou nodded and passed the bottle to Nan Hao, before leaning back again to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth once more…
…Then he realized what he just did, and his brief moment of serenity ground to a screeching halt. Shirou opened his eyes and stared at the two boys casually sitting with him in the water, meeting his astonished gaze with deadpanned looks.
"What are you two doing here?" Shirou asked, brow twitching as he felt the peace and quiet firmly destroyed. He frowned, watching Shang Feng looking perfectly conscious and healthy despite the fact he was out cold seconds ago. Many questions ran through Shirou's mind, and at this point he was beginning to wonder if he'd be better off not asking them.
"Taking a bath, duh." Shang Feng casually replied, using his free hand to apply some lotion to his face. It was nothing short of a scientific anomaly his brain wasn't turned into sludge by that last kick. "It's basic hygiene after touching pigs, brother Shirou," he added without missing a beat, the sheer boldness of the statement urging the other two boys to move slightly away from him on instinct.
On second thought, maybe the boy's brain did turn into sludge. Either that or the world forgot to wire some self-preservation into him.
"He's actually hiding from the President." Nan Hao clarified, slapping his best friend in the back of the head before he could court death again. "She can't get in here while we're bathing. He's staying until she cools down."
"Then what about you?" Shirou questioned.
"I didn't want to wait too long." Nan Hao answered, whistling as he went back to getting himself ready for the day.
Shirou Emiya could only facepalm in defeat, skipping straight into acceptance when faced with the continuous ups and downs thrown at him with little regard for his thoughts and opinion. Now here he was, contemplating the various decisions in his life that led him to this place…and whether he should be happy or terrified. All of this happened on his third day with these four, the third day.
On one hand, he was getting the entire kitchen sink thrown at him early on so maybe it couldn't get much worse than this. On the other hand, he was getting the entire kitchen sink at him at once and it was crushing him. No, he had no choice but to take it…
'I'm so screwed, aren't I…' Shirou tried to stay hopeful, testing the limits of his mental flexibility by ignoring his worries and focusing on the warm water. He closed his eyes again, trying to regain the peace and serenity he lost.
Deep brea–
The shrill, sudden sound of a party blower rang next to his ear, snapping any semblance of relaxation from his brain. Forcefully. Startled, he leaned away from the sound, his gaze fixed on the deadpanned look the two boys were giving him.
"What are you guys doing?" he frowned.
"You shouldn't doze off here, brother Shirou. It's bad for your health," Nan Hao said sternly.
"You think too much, little brother. It will make your hair go gray," Shang Feng added, his party blower dissipating into blue particles before he began drying himself.
Shirou looked between the two, Feng's words lingering in his mind even after the three exited the bath. He couldn't tell if Shang Feng was perceptive or simply speaking in jest, but it didn't change the fact he was right in a way. His mind was always set on the path ahead, single-mindedly dedicated to his goal in his every endeavor to the point where he'd lose track of things around him at times.
He didn't see why it would be a problem.
Shirou shook his head, ignoring the muse as he changed into a fresh set of clothes. Shang Feng was just joking around, another oddity he should brush off for the sake of his sanity. He was sure there was a silver lining in getting punched through walls and having your muscles hanging on by a thread before the day even started. Did he want to know what that silver lining was? Absolutely not. The last flash of silver ended up with him experiencing flight for a few moments.
Walking out of his room, he saw the entrance slide open to reveal his junior, the first sign of good fortune on a very taxing day.
"Good morning, Sakura." He greeted her with a wave, holding in a grunt as his arm muscles protested.
"Good morning, senpai." Sakura replied, brushing back a lock of hair as she closed the door. "Is everyone up already?" She asked as a sweet aroma spilled into the hallway from the kitchen.
"Yeah. We were just about to eat together." Shirou explained, hoping the kitchen wouldn't be burning to a crisp by the time they got in. He was still uneasy from the earlier fiasco, idly considering the slim possibility Shang Feng could be sent flying at them after testing their senior's patience again.
It felt weird to see magic casters so blatantly casual about their powers. It went against everything his father taught him, treating strict rules like polite guidelines.
Sliding the living room door open, Shirou prepared himself for mayhem. What he saw was thankfully far from catastrophic.
Yuzhao lazily laid on her side, quietly watching TV while her sister was setting up the table. She spared the two of them a look, curtly greeting Sakura before going right back to the show. Shirou had no clue how she freshened up so fast, and a part of him thought better than to ask. It was as much of a mystery as the insane strength underneath her rather lithe build. It was better to let her enjoy the Japanese drama in peace.
With the table set up, Yanli rushed to her clipboard and pen. "Hello, Sakura." She greeted the girl with a graceful smile, one Shirou would've focused on were it not for her hand nearly turning into a blur as she began another sketch.
"Our junior is here?" Nan Hao's voice drew Shirou and Sakura's attention to the kitchen, the two of them silently staring at the steaming kitchen and tantalizingly sizzling meat as Shirou rubbed his eyes in defeat.
"That's Kouhai to you, my son." Shang Feng interjected, smacking his friend's head with a steaming ladle. It was an impressive strike, considering he was also cooking with a wok pan three to four times larger than it had any right to. Neither Shirou nor Sakura could recall having that behemoth in the kitchen.
"Hao-senpai, Feng-senpai…why are you guys dressed like that?" Sakura asked, curious as to where the chef hats came from. The giant one surprisingly looked good on Shang Feng, even as it wobbled like jelly each time he shook the pan. Nan Hao's hat was average sized, its presence near constantly eclipsed by the other one's ludicrous mass.
"We're the master chefs today, lit- Kouhai." Nan Hao answered, ducking under another ladle strike before correcting himself. Unfazed by the sudden strike, he continued cutting vegetables and preparing the ingredients. "We agreed to alternate cooking duties with brother Shirou during our stay. He insisted on cooking yesterday, so today's our turn." He added, throwing the food behind him just as Shang Feng leaned his giant hat to the side.
With surprising grace, or perhaps pure dumb luck, Shang Feng caught all the ingredients in the pan without a hitch. "Leave it to us, cute Kouhai. Today you'll be experiencing the Shang Morning Special." He twirled to face them, giving the two a thumbs up.
Unknowingly, a light-hearted smile appeared on Shirou and Sakura's faces, overcome by the mixture of disbelief and amusement as they stared at the duo working through the small kitchen. The smell was certainly enticing enough for Shirou to watch the process more closely.
"Shang-senpai, what exactly is the Shang Morning Special?" Sakura asked, her curiosity piqued as she observed the sizzling stir-fry.
Shang Feng, still sporting his absurdly oversized chef's hat, was flipping something golden-brown in a pan with practiced ease. "Presenting today's fusion masterpiece: Tamagoyaki with a Chinese twist—scallions and a dash of Laoganma for a little kick! Paired with congee, because no self-respecting breakfast skips rice!"
Nan Hao, stirring a pot of steaming congee, nodded in agreement. "We kept it light but filling. The congee's got Umeboshi and shredded chicken—easy on the stomach but packed with flavor. And before you ask, yes, President, there's extra meat on the side just for you."
Yuzhao, now sitting upright at the table instead of lazing about, eyed the plate of grilled mackerel with approval. "Acceptable."
Shirou tilted her head, watching as Shang Feng expertly rolled the layered omelet. "Isn't Laoganma a bit strong for breakfast?"
Shang Feng frowned in mock offense, clicking his teeth as he wagged his finger at Shirou. "So shortsighted, little brother. A true warrior of flavor does not shy away from spice, no matter the hour! But don't worry—we only used a little. Just enough to wake up the senses!"
Yanli, still sketching but now with a cup of barley tea at her side, smiled. "It's balanced. The congee will mellow it out, and the pickles help too."
Shirou took a seat, inhaling the comforting scents—the savory mackerel, the faint heat from the chili oil in the tamagoyaki, the mild earthiness of the congee. It was hearty but not heavy, a meal meant to sustain without weighing them down.
Nan Hao set down a small dish of natto, his deadpan stare sweeping the people at the table.
"For the brave." The words were spoken evenly, almost politely. However, it didn't change the ominous tension of a great challenge being issued which drew all gazes towards the dish.
The good news was that someone actually accepted Nan Hao's challenge.
The bad news was, the challenger wasn't any of the people sitting at the table.
The door behind Nan Hao was almost torn off as it slammed open, a pair of predatory eyes striking fear into the hearts of every one of them. The teens at the table froze, their breaths soft as the tiger who barged in the room slowly began to prowl. Following the scent promising sweet delicacies, the monster's pressure lessened as she delicately stepped past the sweating bunch.
"Food." Fujimura Taiga muttered, her soft and measured voice raising all the red flags in Shirou's head.
With the imminent danger passing, the group watched with rapt attention as the scary tiger in human form loomed over Shang Feng. The young man turned around, taking notice of the sudden silence and coming face to face with an exceptionally hungry and positively disturbing gaze.
Contrary to any of Shirou or Sakura's expectations, Shang Feng didn't blink. The young man bowed and offered an extra large bowl neatly organized into portions of diverse meals big enough to bloat an elephant. Shirou knew for a fact he didn't have anything of the sort, and for once he was all for it. He wasn't sure they could handle a rampaging Taiga even if they ganged up on her. Not when they were an obstacle between her and delicious food.
Faced with this new mess, Shirou decided to take the plunge and eat some natto. At least this way his body might have enough energy for another hour of pure nonsense.
Please let this day end without a crisis.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
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