Was it strange that I accepted my current circumstances so easily?

Most people would've been unaccepting, frustrated, confused, shell-shocked, or some combination of all those feelings. After all, for most people, sudden reincarnation was something not remotely in the realm of possibility, a magic among magics even to the denizens of the moonlit world. The chance to start over anew, in a world completely different than the last… it was an interesting prospect.

For most, they would have been plotting on a way to return home. I couldn't blame them; the chance to start from a blank slate was a both blessing and a curse. Friends, family, material possessions, status and fame, all that and more would have been lost in a new life. It would have been horrifying, having everything taken away from you. It would not have been easy to toss away how many years of life, with all its highs and lows, just to start afresh in unfamiliar circumstances.

Then there was the other group, the people who savored a second chance. The potential to start anew also brought with it a wave of new possibilities. No longer would they be constrained to the chains of the past nor have their present haunted by previous crimes or mistakes. As people say, where one door closes, another opens, and these people who would have gladly run through that opening and into the light. Sometimes, a second chance was all someone needed, the most stubborn of seeds germinating into the most beautiful flowers in new soil.

If that was the case, then where did that leave me?

Someone who had nothing left to lose in their previous life but had no need for a second chance. As always, I was always the exception, something that had been time and again been drilled into me. Admittedly, leaving Fuyuki behind left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. Issei was a valued friend, and many were the lunch periods we spent together, chatting amicably and running around the school fulfilling repair requests. Taiga was also someone I held dear. Her childish personality was only a façade for the caring, responsible woman that laid underneath. In the wake of Kiritsugu's death, she had taken it upon herself to be my guardian, and those years of care and company were a debt I could never hope to repay.

Not that I could now anyway.

There was a slight ache, yes. But that was all it was, a minor nagging in the back of my mind. To put it in simple terms, a world without them was a world I had no need to live in. Some might say it was a bit dramatic, forgoing any opportunity to find another spark to ignite the flames within my heart. However, for 17 years, I had lived hollow and empty, each day passing on the same was the one before—the life of a machine, endlessly repeating its programmed function over and over. It was only on that fateful day, when I gazed up to orbs of emerald shimmering in the moonlight, that my life truly started. While there was no way I could disregard Issei and Taiga's effects on me – doing so would be spitting upon their memory – it didn't quite feel right to go back. Perhaps I was hiding out of shame, regret at what had happened and what I had done, but then again, I scarcely knew what anything was nowadays.

However, just because I had no desire to return to Earth didn't mean I was glad to have been given this new life either. That's the thing with second chances—they gave one the hope to try something new, to be better.

But I already had my second chance. It turned into nothing but ashes in the wind in that cavern alongside my third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chances. What right did I have to ask for another? No, even before that—did I even want one? When I already knew what awaited me down that path?

Maybe that's why I was content to play my role for now. Or perhaps "accepting" was the correct word—after all, to be content implied satisfaction, something that was not true. And if I played my part diligently enough in this new life, then perhaps there was a sliver of a chance that I could meet them again in whatever afterlife awaited us. And if the only thing waiting for me was the cold, endless expanse of death? So be it—it wouldn't have been much different than a life without them anyway. Someone needed to play the role of a hero anyway, and the world had a tendency to audition me as its sole candidate, my choice not a factor in the machinations of destiny.

Or maybe I was still being melodramatic. The unfortunate thing about reincarnation was that I was reborn as a baby. A fresh, newborn baby, complete with all its quirks and limitations. I was an adult mind in a child's body; I was simply unable to do anything. No training or anything to mold this body into one that could be of use later on. All that left me was meditation. With meditation came time. Plenty of it. Time to synthesize all the memories and experiences I had stored within me. Time to reflect upon the past. And that was the mistake. Sifting through my memories, reliving every precious moment we had shared together, it was a wonderful experience. But reminiscing about the past brought along with it the ache of not having them by my side. It was a vicious cycle, one that fed into itself and exacerbated my sorrows. People said that time healed all wounds, but that was merely an excuse to forget—something I would absolutely never do.

Still, for better or worse, it's been quite some time now. It was hard to tell time in my current state as well as the lack of time-telling devices around me. The home I was in seemed to be fairly basic. Well-furnished but spartan otherwise. There were no signs of technology on the level I was accustomed to; there were no clocks or calendars from what I could see. I mainly used the position of the sun to tell the time. From what I could tell, the day-night cycle of this world seems to be fairly similar, if not identical, to the 24-hour cycle back home.

"Shirou, say, 'Ahhh!'"

I wordlessly opened my mouth, and the woman named Zenith placed the wooden spoon in my mouth, beckoning me to swallow. Of course, since I was actually an adult and not an actual baby, I silently obliged.

The food seemed to be some form of porridge. It made sense: I doubt they had baby formula in these times. However, the taste was fairly lackluster, though I couldn't help but wonder if that was my fault.

"Ahhh, he's so obedient!" the woman in front of me exclaimed. "Though he doesn't seem to like the food…." Zenith trailed off with a somewhat gloomy expression.

The woman in front of me was my mother, though I had a hard time calling her that. I wasn't used to calling someone "mother", and if anyone in my life were to be called my mother, it would be Fuji-nee, though it didn't quite fit. The word simply didn't come out of my mouth nor my mind. Well, it's not as if she was actually my mother—you couldn't give birth to what was already dead, after all, though maybe it would be beneficial of me in the future to refer to her as such, just to play the part of the child I was given. The other part of it was that Zenith was a fairly expressive person, providing much of the warmth and liveliness in the household I was in. While I didn't agree with it, I could recognize her efforts and affection, the constant love she showered me with as radiant as gemstones and far more genuine than anything I deserved.

As she dipped her spoon into the bowl and brought it back out again, I lunged forward with all my might – which didn't amount to much – and closed my mouth around the spoon.

My actions surprised Zenith, causing her to flinch backwards in shock. Unfortunately, her hand followed her arm, and the spoon it held was jerked backwards as well, taking my still-attached head with it.

The result was me toppling over from the sitting position I was being fed from, and my body's poor muscle development could not stop my head from falling downwards, taking my body with it as I fell from the chair, slamming my head against the hard wooden floor.

"Shirou!" Zenith exclaimed.

Perhaps my calculated gesture wasn't so calculated after all.

Truthfully, it wasn't much to worry about. While infants' heads were fairly heavy compared to the rest of the body, making looking around slightly difficult, they were also decently sturdy depending on the area. Thankfully, I had hit myself firmly on the forehead, so any damage would be negligible.

"Oh, Shirou, I'm so sorry!"

Apparently, Zenith didn't think so. She propped me up on a table and held a hand to the wound. Now that our heads were level, I ended up peering into her eyes as she examined the wound. Ocean blue orbs had lost a bit of the luster they once held, and as she inspected the damage, I could see her pupils darting back and forth frantically, the woman being overly paranoid for something so minor. The bruise wasn't particularly bad, so I truly thought it wasn't a concern. Nevertheless, she looked at the ugly purple mark with blatant anxiety.

"Don't worry, I'll fix this."

If anything, the fault was mine. I would've told her so if I could, but in my current state, the best I could do was make a vaguely disapproving noise.

"Let this divine power be as satisfying nourishment, giving one who has lost their strength the strength to rise again – Healing!"

A soft light covered her hand before she placed it on my forehead. My eyes widened as I felt a distinct tingling sensation on my head—Zenith's magical energy flooding my body. It was a strange feeling, someone else's magical energy entering my body. It was a foreign entity, and as such its sudden presence was immediately noticeable. It was an intimate sensation, one that brought with it a flood of memories I would've preferred not remembering. The only thing stopping me from pulling away was the sheer abruptness of it all.

Everyone's magical energy had its own unique magical signature. Tohsaka's had been like a stream of cool, pleasant water, befitting the logical and pragmatic magus. In contrast, Zenith's was like warm, liquid sunlight, and it was that warmth that was now permeating every corner of my body.

Because her energy was melding with my body, I became aware of everything it was touching. Skin, muscles, tendons, bones, nerves, blood vessels—every part of my body suddenly became known to my conscience. It was that awareness that allowed me to gain insight into what Zenith's spell was doing. Muscles and skin—the miniscule amount that was lost or damaged—reknit themselves until it was as if nothing had ever happened. Zenith pulled away her hand, smiling at a job well done as she looked at my unblemished head.

It was a curious thing, her magic. Matter could only be transferred, never created or destroyed, a fact that magic usually followed. Zenith's spell seemed to operate under the same principles, using her magical energy to accelerate the healing process as opposed to outright replacing what had been lost. That made sense: magecraft on Earth had only been able to replicate what science was capable of. Anything else was in the realm of the magics.

"There, all fixed! But you have to be more careful, Shirou," she lightly admonished while patting my head. She smiled, obviously relieved but I could still tell there was something bothering her from the way her shoulders remained tensed. Regardless, my thoughts were more occupied by what had just transpired

It was a good spell but a bit inefficient, if I was being honest. The activation aria was lengthy, and casting the spell in combat could be troublesome. Assuming her aria was for the purposes of self-hypnosis to actualize her magic, it should be shortened to be more usable in any strenuous circumstances. Even more than that, the efficiency of her technique was lacking even with an aria. The flow of magical energy felt… unfocused. I had no doubts Zenith was a skilled healer, but there was a large amount of potential she held that was currently untapped. With some proper guidance and a bit of luck…

Still, the confirmation of magic in this world was good to have. I only had a suspicions and second-hand information to work with up to this point. The mana in the air was plentiful, and a singular glimpse of the sword that Paul carried around with him religiously and delving into the ocean of memories it withheld—careful not to overstep and dive into the man's personal history —revealed that this world had its own system of magic. Surprisingly, or maybe not so, Paul was quite the seasoned adventurer, and he had experienced almost the full breadth of the mysteries of this new world.

It was similar yet different compared to the one I was used to. On the surface level, they seemed almost the same—magicians chanted words to invoke spells to control the elements; warriors bolstered their physical capabilities to achieve superhuman strength and speed; magical creatures and twisted abominations roamed the depths of every corner of the planet.

Well, I wasn't entirely surprised. It was not that I was expecting it, but after my abrupt introduction to the moonlit world that fateful night, the line between fantasy and reality had blurred to the point of nonexistence.

"What happened?" Paul asked from the window. He was leaning against the windowsill from the outside and judging from the thin film of sweat covering him, he was training.

Zenith's smile turned into a small frown. "Shirou fell down from the chair and hit his head."

"Oh, that's it?" Paul's gaze traveled from Zenith to me, and I didn't miss the slight wince in his eyes. "Eh, he's fine," Paul flippantly dismissed with a wave of his hands. "Though he might just be my child if he can keep going after that. But wasn't it your fault, Zenith?"

Zenith's shoulders slumped as she knew she would be stepping into another tiring argument. "Well maybe if you helped me for a change, this wouldn't have happened. Besides, how was I supposed to know he would bite the spoon like that?" she denied with a roll of her eyes.

"You're supposed to be watching him. What happens to him is your responsibility." He propped up his head in his hand, looking boredly at the scene before him. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway. You can just keep healing him."

"That's not the point, Paul." Paul may not have been able to see it, but I could clearly notice the woman's nails digging into the palm of her hand as she clenched her jaw in frustration, a sharp contrast with Paul's dismissive, almost contemptuous, demeanor.

"It's fine. Maybe he'll grow stronger because of it." With that, the man turned around and walked away from the window to continue his training.

These types of back and forths were fairly typical for them. They reminded me much of the dynamic between Tohsaka and I, though those were far more playful and teasing than what I was currently witnessing. It would have been hard to miss the blatant disrespect laced in Paul's every word or the fatigued frustration dripping from Zenith's responses.

It was a bit unusual. Usually, Zenith was a bit more willing to acquiesce victory in these verbal fights to Paul, the kind woman usually dismissing his words with a drained sigh and mature turn of her cheek, but she was stubbornly holding her ground this time. Maybe it was my injury? Motherly instincts definitely could have provided Zenith with the anger she needed to throw Paul's snark back at him. The bond between parent and child was something not to be underestimated. However, she's been doing this more often lately.

There was something else there, something far uglier and unsightly. It was faint, but its presence was undeniable. The words to describe it escaped me, the answer lying on the tip of my tongue before slipping away from me.

A vision flashed in front of me.

Red and black, the wave of a familiar red cloak, steel orbs judging me from the crest of a desolate hill littered with swords.

Ah, that's what it was.

It was a feeling I was all too familiar with.

When every fiber of your being screamed at you to deny what was in front of you. The need to prove your words right. The almost sinking feeling that maybe you were wrong, that what you believed in was all a lie, but you keep greedily clutching at your answer like a drowning man gulps in the water that eventually kills him.

Zenith wasn't quite there, but I could sense its growth was well under way. The real question was what exactly she was thinking of when she argued with Paul. Without that, I would have no way of helping.

It was my fault, really. I hadn't realized it at first, but I was in a younger version of my old body. One time, I had looked at myself in a mirror while being carried around the house only for golden-brown orbs and hints of auburn hair to greet me. After several months, my hair grew out to a crown of my familiar crimson hair.

However, the issue lied precisely with my resemblance to my past self. Not myself from the grail war but before then, before I met them. The eyes were far duller now, looking less like shining emeralds and more like orbs of copper. The expression looking back at me was blank and empty, not quite looking as innocent as a baby should.

Still, differences aside, one look at myself next to my parents, and the issue was obvious: I looked nothing like them. I had inherited neither Zenith's lustrous blonde nor Paul's rugged brown hair. The pure scarlet strands on my head bellied the genetics of neither parent, so I looked more like one of my parents' distant nephews than their own son. The eyes were another issue: Zenith had striking ocean-blue orbs while Paul sported cool, soothing green eyes. I supposed that my eye color wasn't completely different from Paul's – depending on the lighting, they could even appear the same – but it was distinct enough to raise several questions. In tandem with the hair, and those questions turned into hushed suspicions.

My unique appearance had thrown off my parents. At first, they were willing to overlook it, but as the blatant difference became more and more obvious, what was once easy to deny became a rather heated topic in the household. Some arguments were kept hushed behind closed doors, and some were a bit more… passionate. There were several nights in their bedroom where Paul would angrily yell what Zenith trying so fervently to deny, and I was afraid that I would have to step in at some point for her safety, something I was glad hasn't happened yet.

On the occasions where discussions between the two were as civil and calm as they could be, Paul and Zenith tried their hardest to find a reasonable explanation for why their son looked nothing like his parents, and while reaching for an answer, Paul had ignited the spark that was currently engulfing the poor family: he had accused Zenith of cheating on him.

I couldn't really blame him. After all, it was the woman who carried and birthed the baby. In this situation, only Zenith knew the truth, and Paul, by his choice or otherwise, could only simply hope and give his wife her trust. However, humans are fragile, both emotionally and physically, and relationships are built on honesty and trust. That trust had been worn down little by little over time until it utterly collapsed in that moment. For Paul to accuse his wife of cheating on him is tantamount to him belittling her integrity as a person and the quality of her character. Such an accusation could easily spell the end of any relationship, and the mere fact that they were still together, even if it was only by technicality, was a miracle in itself.

Had Paul really thought it through, he would have realized that his allegation bore no fruit. First, there weren't any people nearby who had my distinctive features. According to Zenith, nobody in the village or from their past adventuring experiences shared the combination of my hair and eyes. As Zenith had pointed out to him, even Paul's distant relatives only had red hair through his cousin's wife, so obviously that didn't work.

Even disregarding who Zenith could have an affair with, there was also the question of when. As Zenith's primary concern, I could attest to this; Zenith didn't really leave the village, and most of her time was spent around or inside of the house. Zenith was a typical housewife, and as such mainly handled the normal wifely duties of cooking and clean alongside the house maid Lilia. Her only free time was spent tending to her garden outside, especially her tree in the yard. It was these points that Lilia brought up when the discussion got a bit too heated for her taste, a rebuttal that Paul couldn't find a response to.

Naturally, the accusation hurt Zenith. Apparently, she was a devout follower of her religion and was fairly conservative, including her views of monogamy. The allegation spat on everything she believed in, calling into question her character, something that trampled upon and spat on the face of their marriage. It was at that moment that Zenith had replied in kind to her husband, attacking him with the same fervor he had, bringing up his womanizing nature and that unlike her, he had plenty of opportunities to have an affair with the frequency of his patrols while she sat at home, taking care of the household he had abandoned.

It was only then by revealing the trust she placed in him despite his questionable past that their argument finally started dying down, and their earlier anger becoming only a mild simmer. There were still small outbursts, especially with Zenith's disrespect towards Paul's occupation as the town knight. Being accused of infidelity when he was risking his life to protect the village from the horde of monsters that plagued the world was an insult to his honor—what little he had.

Regardless, Paul was arguing for the sake of saving face at that point. The night ended with Paul reluctantly apologizing, though I could tell he still harbored doubts. Still, the damage was already done. No amount of apologies could take back the words that were thrown at each other, and no amount of reconciliation could ever completely repair the bond between the two. They could glue the pieces back all they liked, but it would never be the same. For those two, there was no going back—only forward.

After that day, the tension between the two was palpable enough to cut it with a knife. Despite the earlier apologies, their relationship was still on thin ice, and any more pressure could permanently shatter it to pieces. In addition, Paul was also far chillier with me than before. Gone were the times when he would spend minutes on end making silly faces at me. I had made sure to curl my lips upwards in a smile, but I never did laugh – something that probably contributed to the idea that I wasn't his child. His treatment towards me was never harsh, but it didn't exude the warm and caring touch he had before.

His behavior was in stark contrast with Zenith. The poor woman continued raising the child that had caused this split in the first place without a single complaint, affectionately doting on me at every passing moment. It was a testament to her resolve and willpower that she was determined to try and give me as normal a childhood as possible despite the strenuous circumstances in the household. Perhaps it was for that reason that she chose to stay with Paul, prioritizing the stability of a strained marriage over trying to start over from scratch with a freshly born child, even if it meant fulfilling the duties of two parents by herself.

It was a pity that her efforts were ultimately in vain, but I could appreciate her tenacity. It was for that reason that I tried my best to repay her, the earlier display of childish clumsiness being an example of that.

It felt slightly wrong to mislead the woman like this, but ultimately such meaningless gestures were just that—meaningless. If it gave Zenith just a bit more happiness without a cost to me, then the decision seemed logical enough.

Still, there will come a time when I would have to shatter her illusions of me. When that time comes, I wasn't entirely sure how our relationship would proceed. From my perspective, the current arrangement was temporary—something that would eventually have to discard when I embark on the path I committed myself to—and while her endeavor to act as my mother was admirable and heartfelt, in the end, it was unnecessary.

"When did my life become like this?" Zenith sighed, burying her hand in her arms as she slumped over the table in clear exhaustion. I frowned at the effect the domestic quarrel was having on the woman. I wasn't sure how long Zenith could last under this pressure. The woman was strong, yes, but there was only so much someone could take before they fell apart. I doubted I could be of any assistance—current body aside—I just didn't understand her enough to help.

Perhaps Lilia would be able to help. With Zenith and Paul's relationship in disarray, they needed someone to facilitate their reconciliation. I was in no state to do so, physically or mentally, so the responsibility regrettably fell upon Lilia. It bothered me to hope for her intervention for a problem I caused, but that's the way things were.

Pulling herself together, the woman put on a mask of happiness and smiled warmly at me. "Alright Shirou, last one." Zenith placed the last spoonful of food in front of my mouth, which I quickly ate. She wore a pleased expression, but it wasn't quite all there, the woman looking at the empty spoon in her hand with an expression of sadness.

Well, I wasn't sure what was bothering her, but I could still help in certain ways. Hopefully, the lack of difficulty she had in taking care of me could help alleviate some of her stress. Thankfully for her, I was completely aware of myself. The normal difficulties that plagued new mothers should be absent with me. There were no lost nights of sleep due to incessant whining or crying. I ate my food diligently and quickly with no complaint. Ridding myself of bodily waste was easy enough, and by this point I could navigate the house and wash myself with little issue. Understanding the local language and speaking it came naturally as well, so her attempts at teaching me how to speak were actually needless, not that I would tell her that. I assumed it was due to whatever force brought me here in the first place. When my body further develops, I planned on helping out around the household as well in order to further ease Zenith's burdens. Her responsibilities doubled with Paul's absentee behavior, so doing what I could to assist her seemed like a logical choice. I intended for my upbringing to be as easy and straight forward as possible. It was almost transactional—she gave birth to me, as unwanted and unnecessary as it was, and in return I could skip the entire long and painful nurturing phase of a child for her. I couldn't do much about the issues my appearance caused, but I could affect how my behavior affected those around me, which was hopefully only positive.

The only true difficulty I faced as a child was breastfeeding. The nutrients in the milk were essential for the growth of infants. Unfortunately for Zenith, she wasn't feeding a baby who instinctively sought to suck on her breasts, but a young adult. The first time she tried to feed me, I was aghast at what she was doing. It made sense, of course, but it still felt extremely improper to do and was taking advantage of my current appearance. Zenith and I were locked in some kind of showdown with neither of us willing to back down. The confrontation only ended due to Paul's intervention, who forcefully shoved my head onto Zenith while making snide remarks about my sexuality.

"I need to get outside," Zenith admitted with a fatigued sigh. "I'm going to look after the garden for a bit… I won't be gone soon, Shirou." She bent down until her head was almost in line with mine, and I could see her baby blue eyes murky with doubt and resentment. Now that I was this close to her, I could see the skin beneath her eyes drooping and darkening, but I couldn't blame her for having issues sleeping.

The woman's hand came forward before it paused suddenly, her eyes darkening as the appendage hovering tentatively over my head before it finally came down to slowly stroke my hair. The image of self-loathing vanished in an instant, and the distressed woman gave me a hasty kiss on the forehead before turning to the other person in the room. "Lilia, please keep an eye on him."

"Of course, Lady Zenith." Lilia acknowledged, bowing curtly.

With one last glance at me, Zenith left the room, leaving me along with our resident maid.

I glanced at the woman, the gesture immediately causing her to stiffen. I could see her heightened sense of nervousness—the formation of sweat droplets on her brow and dilation of her pupils. The woman was not very subtly looking around the room, eyeing the front door that lead to the outside where Zenith had just exited from like it was an oasis in the desert.

I internally sighed and looked away from the woman. Almost immediately, Lilia relaxed, resuming her professional demeanor and blankly watching me from the corner of the room.

Seriously? This was a bit much.

The woman was normally quite uptight, oozing professionalism and politeness at every single instance of the day. Her interactions with the Greyrats were curt, always showing respect to Zenith and Paul and deferring to them in any possible situations that their authority was required. It wasn't particularly surprising; while she did live with the family and develop some kind of chemistry with the two adults, their relationship was ultimately one of beneficiaries: Lilia worked for money in exchange for her services. Not to say that a friendship was impossible to cultivate between them, but the line between employee and employer is something to carefully tread around. A false move could send one's personal and professional life to the gutters.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. I didn't need to delve into their memories to see the obvious tension between her and Paul. It was plain as day, and it was clear that there was previous history between them. The details of what exactly transpired between the two were unknown to me, due to the lack of a strong bond between the two and myself as well as the lack of a strong enough connection from Paul to his sword.

The other instances of Lilia breaking character seemed to come mainly when she interacted with me. The blatant discomfort earlier was just one example. It wasn't quite fear—the woman was originally hesitant to come near me but had become more amenable to the idea over time—but I could not deny how unnerved she became in my presence. More specifically, it was only when I decided to meet her gaze. Any other time, such as now as she watched over me from her pocket of supposed safety, and she proved to be a capable and reliable aid.

It was slightly irritating. I was trying my best to come off as forgettable as possible, a mere footnote in their lives that could vanish at any moment without being missed. My current behavioral patterns were calculated to reach that end, sculpting the image of a quiet and ordinary child that posed no issues.

Maybe she was more sensitive to my true nature than most. If this world was as magical as I suspected, then it wouldn't be out of the question that she could innately sense the difference between everyone else and I. Alas, that was only conjecture. The two magi that could give a significantly better hypothesis weren't around any longer.

Ah, so many problems. My integration into this new world wasn't nearly as smooth as fiction had made it seem. Perhaps the solution was simply to run away. I was the source of the problem, so naturally, removing me from the household would fix Zenith and Paul's marriage. It was simple mathematics—introducing a new factor only imbalanced the equation, so the proper solution was to remove it. Of course, human emotions didn't work like that. It might take some time, but hopefully, they would have a new child, one they could be proud to call their own, and they would forget all about me.

"Master Shirou, please refrain from going up the stairs. I cannot supervise you up there while continuing my other duties," the maid said. Ah, I was hoping that her discomfort would prevent her from speaking up, but it seemed that the woman was far too professional for that. It was unfortunate; I was hoping to be able to experiment, but with Lilia around, maybe those endeavors would be better suited for another time. "I'll be informing Lady Zenith about this matter as well."

I grimaced at the thought. While I appreciated her sentiments, Zenith was slightly suffocating. Having her watch over me as unnecessary and restrictive, even if her intentions were nothing but pure.

It was also slightly worrying that Lilia was speaking to me as if I was supposed to understand her.

"Ahhh…"

Lilia raised an eyebrow at the guttural noises escaping my mouth, seemingly not convinced at my poor attempt at mimicking typical baby noises.

Perhaps I was not suited to be an actor in this life either, the mask I wore not quite concealing what hid underneath. In any case, it didn't matter too much. As long as I made life as easy as I could for the Greyrats, showing a few signs of intelligence and coordination far beyond my physical age was fine. I couldn't hide it forever, so it was better to control what I would show to the others instead of completely donning the disguise of an ordinary child. With a bit of luck, they might even see me as some sort of prodigious talent, giving me the perfect excuse for my behavior. Whatever they decided, it didn't matter too much. I wasn't going to stick around forever, and as long as I could make the time I did spend here as easy for them as I could, they could rationalize me however they wanted. As long as it was ultimately their decision, that was all that mattered.

So far, Lilia seemed to be the only one that truly harbored suspicions on my true nature. Paul was more doubtful about my familial origins than anything else, and Zenith was too busy blanketing me with motherly affection to notice—no mother in their right mind would accept their child being taken over by another soul, after all.

Seeing that my attempt at escape would be unsuccessful and any further endeavors would only bring more trouble later—trouble in the form on an overbearing woman—I opted to instead focus on my thoughts.

The window Paul had peeked through earlier was still left often, the sounds of steel striking wood and stone a cacophony in the quiet peace of the village. I could sense his sword being swung around in various forms. The man might have been of questionable character, but the skill housed within that sword he held was undeniable. Paul Greyrat was indeed a prodigy, a true genius with the blade. He could only be classified as a generational talent, someone who was born and destined to wield a blade, and despite his questionable work ethic and personality, he was still head and shoulders above even those could be called "elite".

Zenith was on the other side of the house, tending to the garden she had taken to caring for. Perhaps she was looking to let out her motherly instincts on the flora, not finding me sufficient enough to satisfy the maternal desire within her.

Amber eyes snapped open.

Almost immediately, a hand reached out to the side, fingers splayed on the wall next to me.

"Trace, on."

Magical energy coursed through me, channeling through my body to permeate the entire structure of the house I resided in. I filtered out the extraneous information provided to me. I didn't need any history or memories, just the physical components of the building and everything inside of it. With those parameters in mind, I focused on specifying the range of my magecraft to the rooms of the other occupants of the Greyrat household.

"There."

There were three distinct depressions within the beds of the rooms. Two were on the same bed, albeit rather far apart, in the master bedroom across from mine, and the third was in the room further down the hall.

Excellent.

I couldn't sense them directly, but their bodies left enough of a trace that my magecraft told me what I couldn't physically see.

My feet gently plopped onto the floor as silently as a ghost, structural grasp enabling me to find the wooden planks on the floor that wouldn't creak. I nudged the door ajar, exiting my room without a second thought or confirmation. I quickly reached the staircase, my light weight not making the slightest of noises against the squeaky boards, though I made sure to skip the sixth step. Paul never did get around to repairing it, something Zenith had held over him as just another example of his laziness.

The adults upstairs were none the wiser as I reached the bottom and glided the rest of the way to the front door. The heavy, solid wooden door was something no ordinary baby should have been able to move, and yet with only a slight application of magecraft, the large slab of lumber silently pivoted open on its hinges, which I had reinforced to make sure they wouldn't squeak.

I stepped outside, the cold wind of the night biting at my exposed skin. The lightweight tunic I was dressed in was soft and breathable, perfect for sleep attire but providing little protection against the elements. With the distinct chilliness of the air, I could assume it was the autumn season, and that winter would be coming within the next few months. I didn't see anything strange regarding the seasonal cycles from Paul, so the movement of the planets and stars seemed to be similar as to that of Earth's.

I walked down to the other side of the house, eyeing the edge of the forest far in the distance.

"Trace, on."

Twenty-seven magic circuits ignited. I don't know what magic had repaired them, but I was grateful. In a previous life, they had deteriorated due to lack of use. That would not be the case here.

Golden lines briefly flashed on my legs before they disappeared. I bounced on my toes tentatively, feeling my enhanced body in this new life for the first time. I felt lighter, as if I was a leaf that could be blown away in an instant by a stray gust of wind. It was partly due to my infantile body, but also because I was only really able to fully utilize my abilities by the end of the war, years of bad practices and habits fully corrected with the help of Illyasviel and Tohsaka. With their teachings, I was now able to start my training with the correct foundation. Unfortunately, there weren't here any longer, so any new breakthroughs in my abilities would have to come from my own understanding. That was fine—I was content with only regaining my previous skills.

BOOM!

My body exploded forward, the world becoming a blur around me as I ran into the forest far beyond normal human speeds. It wasn't as fast as I had been before, but that would come with time. As the efficiency of my magecraft increased due to experience, it was only my body that would be holding me back in the future. Attaining my previous level of strength was only in inevitability at this point.

I stopped in an instant, wind rushing past me as my feet burrowed shallow channels into the ground. I looked around at the forest around me, the tall trees towering over my short stature. The green canopy of the forest had started turning into a beautiful blend of colors, and leaves had already started falling off the branches.

My stopping point was a small clearing in the dense forest surrounding the village. It was far enough from any prying eyes that could be awake at this hour, so I could exercise my abilities without worry.

I closed my eyes, looking inwards and searching within myself. My soul had transmigrated to this new world, so the blade works housed within it was still present. I could sense the chaos and disorder within the reality marble, the answer I had grasped that allowed me to realize the taboo thaumaturgy having been disturbed and modified. Without actualizing the blade works itself, I couldn't be certain of what had been changed, but as long as it still produced blades, that was good enough for now.

I closed my eyes, reaching within my soul for a specific set of swords. By now, the action was akin to breathing, consuming no real time or effort. I needed only the slightest tug, and they rose to the surface immediately.

Kanshou and Bakuya shimmered into existence, twin lengths of blue light coalescing into solid steel. The familiar falchions shot down from the sky, embedding themselves into the ground in front of me. They were each significantly more than half my height, rendering them unfit to be wielded. I doubt I could pick them without reinforcing myself, and they were far too large to be held in these small hands.

With a single glance, it was clear to anyone that these swords were far from ordinary. Aside from their striking appearance and exotic form, the sheer weight of their existence had an entrancing gravity. What laid in front of me was far more than the imperfect traced versions that Archer had wielded. The ones I traced were a perfect replica of the artifacts that had received the acknowledgement of the gods themselves, an exact mimicry of the weapons Kanshou had painstakingly forged.

I reached out, laying my hand on the cool steel of Bakuya. Short fingers tenderly traced the edge of the blade, the matte white sheen of the sword softly glowing in the rays of moonlight that bathed the clearing.

Unlike a regular sword, Bakuya did not have the typical shine of polished steel. Instead, it was decorated in a murky white, almost akin to the haze of a cloud, reflecting its history perfectly. According to its memories, this sword represented Kanshou's wife, who had thrown herself into the fires of his forge in order to create weapons bolstered by human sacrifice. In his grief, Kanshou had indeed forged weapons that reached the realm of the gods, but they were created with no true purpose in mind, more of a question to the meaning of their existence than anything else.

For someone like me, it was a match made by fate. Just as Kanshou had forged this pair of blades as a question to the world, staining Bakuya in a cloud of white that bellied his uncertainty, I wielded them in search of purpose and direction.

The red knight had stumbled upon them in his journey, captivated by their beauty and craftsmanship, and he had used them as a symbol for his eternal journey as a Counter Guardian. And now they resided within my hands, their previous two owners never having found the answer to the eternal question the blades posed.

White and black.

Light and dark.

Ying and yang.

Loss and gain.

The meaning behind the twin swords was not lost to me. Perhaps this was the Counter Guardian's last wish, to find the answer behind the existence that was Emiya Shirou. Just as Illyasviel had left me with those final words, the crimson knight had departed with one final task for me to complete.

Stepping away from the blades, I channeled more mana to create another projection. Another length of metal flew from the sky, except its edge was only a few inches of double-sided steel. It was fastened to a long piece of solid oak stained by years of countless battles. It was an ordinary spear, completely spartan and conventional in every single way. However, its wielder was a practiced spearman, and he had skewered many foes at the end of its haft. Still, in comparison to the infinite treasures housed within my blade works, it wasn't even a footnote.

More mana coursed through my circuits, and the spear started to shrink and shorten until it looked proportionally correct to my current body. Letting out a slight hum of satisfaction, I grabbed onto it with stubby little fingers, the smaller shaft fitting in my hand.

It might have been a mundane weapon, but even regular arms had their uses. With such an insignificant existence and weight behind the weapon, altering its properties was far easier and less energy-consuming.

I gave the weapon an experimental twirl as wood and steel distorted in a sphere around me. Blades of grass whipped around me as I spun the weapon in my hand, cutting the ground as the steel head flew through the air fast enough to create small gusts of wind.

For all intents and purposes, it was an excellent weapon. It didn't draw much attention, perfect for hiding by more potent abilities.

I let out a burst of mana, imbuing the spear with energy. The weapon launched itself across the clearing like a bullet, impaling a tree on the far side of the glade. I watched as it punched a fist-sized hole in the trunk of the tree, completely passing through the entire diameter of lumber before continuing its flight through the forest. The completely standard spear managed to destroy another three trees before it embedded itself halfway up its shaft on the final obstacle, leaves shook free as the tree wobbled precariously.

I let out a hum of satisfaction at the substantial carnage caused by such a mundane weapon. It seemed that all aspects of my magecraft were working as intended. Tracing and reinforcement, along with their various applications, had not decreased in effectiveness with my reincarnation. If my understanding of thaumaturgy was correct, then my energy capacity and output should also be the same due to having the same soul as in my previous life.

According to Illyasviel, the soul shapes the body. Perhaps that is why my body was the same as before; my soul overrode the physical properties of the body I was born in. It explained the impossible genetics I had inherited instead of the Greyrats. It also meant that I would have a different bodily magical structure than the denizens of this world.

No, that was incorrect. I could feel something within me, something that was not present in my previous life. It was almost like there was another reservoir of mana within me. I couldn't sense it before because I was unaware of it, but now that I captured the sensation, it was hard to ignore. It was like discovering another muscle in your body, something that wasn't there just magically becoming known. Maybe it was a feature of the people here, something that my soul couldn't overwrite.

I frowned.

That explanation wasn't right either. There was something else within me, but I could not figure out what it was.

Oh well, I didn't have time to dwell on this. Not like I could change anything anyway.

One last test then.

I took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air enter my nose before I exhaled it back out. Amber eyes closed, and I furrowed my brows in concentration as I reached within my soul for a specific weapon.

I could sense it. Everything about it was known to me, from its creation to every battle it had bloodied itself in to the memories of Irish warrior who had wielded it in the past. There was not a single aspect of the weapon I could not see through. The depth of my sight was as all-encompassing as it always as.

"I am the bone of my s—ugh…!"

My world exploded in a flash of white. Pain burst through my brain, a piercing headache briefly flaring through my head. My mouth was agape, unable to let out a sound as the sensation of shock paralyzed my body. Eyes trembled and hands shook, and then as soon as the sudden pain erupted, it vanished.

I greedily inhaled, heavily panting as my features were twisted in an expression of panic. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling a residual burning sensation in my heart before that too eventually receded.

No wait—not my heart.

"My soul…?"

I frownedat the conclusion, thoughts and theories racing through my head. Suddenly, my eyes widened as I looked at what had landed on the ground in front of me.

Caladbolg II, the modified version that Archer and I employed in our unique fighting styles, was stabbed firmly into the ground. I reached out to tentatively touch it, tracing its curved spiral blade with a finger. The frown turned into a grimace, and I narrowed my eyes as realization dawned on me.

It was imperfect. Unlike the pair of falchions I projected earlier, the spiral sword didn't contain the deeper memories and experiences that my blades normally were imbued with. It was still far above regular projections, the summation of its traced history making the weapon a near-faithful recreation of the original. However, the projected blade stopped there, the manufacturing process having been interrupted.

To utilize gradation air, the user needed to replicate the collective total of the weapon's story. Unlimited Blade Works automated that aspect of the technique for me. For Emiya Shirou, all that was required was awareness of the reality marble in the first place, bringing forth the weapon from the internalized factory as opposed to projecting it normally. That portion of my tracing was still in working order. However, to take my magecraft a step further, greater understanding of the weapon and its wielder was required.

That is why this Caladbolg was not on par with what I would have been able to create in the past. The image in my head and degree of insight were not sufficient to construct weapons of that level. Considering the constraints for this brand of thaumaturgy were purely mental, then the explanation was obvious.

"My resolve is that weak, huh?"

It didn't fully explain why Kanshou and Bakuya were able to be traced correctly. Perhaps the answer laid in the fact that my soul resonated more with the yin and yang sword, the deeper bond to the pair of blades presenting a clearer image in my mind. But it was all conjecture; my powers were always uncertain before, and the most knowledgeable people I knew were no longer here to provide answers.

I sighed, dismissing the drill-like sword with a wave of my hand and watched as it disappeared in motes of blue light.

With the current restriction in mind, the potential scope of my abilities was massively reduced. Traditional tracing was still available, but I wouldn't be fighting any servant-level threats any time soon, especially with my lack of physical prowess in mind. That was an issue; the world waited for no one, and I couldn't afford to be idle while any possible enemies I might encounter grew stronger. I had to train my body, mind, and soul immediately. Rest was not a luxury that could be afforded to me, and even if it drew attention to me, that result was preferable to being complacent.

"Ahh…"

I let out an involuntary yawn, and the brief pause in my thoughts quickly brought to attention just how tired my body was. My eyes were half-lidded, heavily drooping as my body swayed unsteadily. My stomach rumbled as the onset of hunger began to set in at this hour. I grimaced, sleep threatening to overtake me and bring the night to a close. I furrowed my brows, clenching my teeth in frustration as I huffed at the brazen limitations of my infant body.

"Trace, on."

Mana flooded my body once again, filling in the deepest cracks and openings with magical energy. The concept of my body was reinforced to the maximum of what I was currently capable of, strengthening all physical aspects.

Dull copper orbs snapped open, and I could feel my sense of alertness heighten. The earlier drowsiness was pushed back, temporarily withheld for the time being. The need for sustenance was also delayed, my magecraft allowing me to forgo such necessities for now.

Excellent, all tasks at hand had now been cleared.

In my last life, my weakness led to the deaths of everyone I held dear. Despite my rapid improvement over the course of the war, I was unable to save everyone. I had spent the previous 17 years doing nothing, throwing away precious time as I meandered through life. This time around, I would not make that same mistake.

Strength.

I needed strength. Strength to reach out in search of what I truly sought. Strength to fulfill the ending I desired. Even if Emiya Shirou didn't quite know what he wanted, even if my resolve crumbled to dust, even if my pursuit for power led to nowhere, even if answers were scarce and fleeting.

The only thing I was certain of was one memory in my mind, of a group of special people in my heart all gathered around a table, enjoying the normalcy of life, even if was only for the briefest of moments. It was a rather mundane memory, but sometimes the things humans desired the most was what was taken from them.

But I couldn't be there with them yet. For the sake of their final wishes, I had to embark on another journey.

They wanted me to find my answer. I had believed that it had been them. Now, all that was left for me to cling onto was a false ideal—a beautiful, painful lie.

I absentmindedly gazed forward. The night was pitch dark, the only source of light being a sliver of moonlight illuminating the pair of blades in front of me. A gust of chilled air blew by, and I could feel the ominous tension of fate within the wind, an omen for what was to come. I frowned at the warning, and I looked up, the blank night sky betraying nothing. Nothing except for the faintest of lights in the expanse of black, a cluster of five stars dimly shining above me.

I smiled, the taste in my mouth bittersweet.

No, there was something else I could hope for.

Saber.

Rin.

Sakura.

Illya.

Rider.

"Wait for me."

A/N: If this chapter felt boring to read, don't worry – it was equally boring to write. Nonetheless, exposition is a fate special.

Some people have raised their concerns about me not know what the hell I'm doing due to the light novels not being finished. It's a valid point, but I doubt I'll actually continue this fanfic to the point that the later plot points start to matter. And if they come up earlier and X was supposed to happen, well I don't really have an answer to that besides trying my best to bullshit an explanation into the story later once I learn of it.

And yes, I don't know where Zenith and Paul's fight subplot thing is going. I had a much easier time writing when I could visualize Shirou in the story, hence why he's in his previous body and his parents named him Shirou. Does it make sense? No. Unfortunately, that left me with in an awkward position, so I felt Paul's reluctance towards Shirou is fairly justified.

Please review. More so towards the characters and how the characters influence the story rather than if later plot point X is happening, though I understand it's unlikely anyone is going to do so anyway. Nevertheless, thank you for your time.

A/N (10/14/2023): Revamped the chapter a decent amount. Nothing like the prologue, but with a better idea of where I wanted to take the story, I changed around the monologue. Something I'll be doing is getting rid of the "crack" moments that I wrote in because I thought it was funny. I'll try to fit them in when possible, but I want to keep the tone consistent.

I also elaborated a bit more on Shirou's "new" powers. They're not new, per se, but it's a different angle and take on his abilities. It should still be in line with his character, and I have artificially gimped him for now in order to slow down his progression because I'm fairly certain that Shirou, given enough time and training, could easily take out everyone below Orsted and Hitogami with enough prep.