Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Is this really necessary, Shinji?" asked Shirou.

He tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket as they walked down the long hallway that led to Homurahara's gymnasium.

"Yes, Shirou, it's necessary," said his friend, with just the hint of a mocking sing-song. "And you might as well get used to it. Makami isn't going to let you near the courtroom wearing one of your old sweaters."

It was evening, and even the most diligent students had finished up their club activities and gone home. Still, Shirou felt a wave of nostalgia as they passed the double doors and green panels of the school's classrooms. With each step, the years seemed to drop away. If he closed his eyes, he would hear the bustle of crowded hallways, teenagers chattering before the morning bell dispersed them to start the day. It made the fancy suit feel that much more awkward on his shoulders.

"It still feels like too much. This is just a high school reunion."

"It's an occasion to strut your stuff," Shinji scoffed, running a hand through his carefully gelled hair. "Everyone's going to be dressed to impress. You don't want to disappoint them, right?"

"I guess," said the other, ignoring his friend's disapproving huff in favour of breathing in the familiar atmosphere.

Seven years, he reflected. I can't believe it's been seven years since graduation. I wonder what everyone's been up to. He thought about coming to the previous reunions, but he was always too busy studying, making up for a lack of brilliance with hard work. He had documents to review tonight as well, but Shinji had put his foot down.

"We worked like dogs to get where we are," he had shouted, and thumped his fist on Shirou's desk between the mountains of stacked documents. "Let's enjoy our achievement." Then, nostrils flaring in response to Shirou's noncommittal shrug, "Live a little, you damn stick in the mud!"

Shirou couldn't call his law career an achievement, not when he had just started taking on cases, not when he hadn't yet saved anyone (helped anyone, he hastily corrected himself, the former always worried people when he said it aloud). But Shinji meant well, and not many people asked him anywhere anymore. So he had agreed to come, and sighed in exasperated fondness when his friend crowed victory.

It wasn't just a matter of making his oldest friend happy. Secretly he had been looking forward to the reunion. It was a chance to reminiscence and catch up with his friends again, the few he had managed to keep sporadic contact with over the years.

With a crackling hiss, one of the artificial lights on the ceiling flickered. That's the same one Issei and I were always trying to fix, he thought wistfully as they passed under it. But no matter how many times we changed the bulb or fiddled with the connectors, it always acted up again within the week. I guess some things never change.

The thought made Shirou smile, which morphed into a yawn before he was able to suppress it. He squared his shoulders, determined to push the fatigue aside. There was still lots of paperwork to file when he returned to the office after the party wrapped up, so—

A deep sigh drifted through the air, then Shinji's hand clamped on his shoulder.

"Stop."

Shirou did, turning to look questioningly at his friend. The other man only clicked his tongue impatiently as he straightened the redhead's collar.

"Ahh, thanks," said Shirou sheepishly. He had thought it looked perfectly fine, but his friend's crinkled nose and insistent tugs said otherwise.

Shinji sighed again. "I'm not your girlfriend, idiot. I can't always be fixing things for you."

"You're right, people will start to talk." He raised his hands appeasingly when the other man glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. I'll get a better mirror, okay?"

"It's not about the mirror, it's about having the time to use it," grumbled Shinji as they started walking again. "With all those pro bono cases you keep taking on… tch, when was the last time you had a full night's sleep? Well, nevermind that now…"

They were getting closer now, the muffled hum of music and voices drifting from the double doors ahead. Shirou sighed, resisting the urge to stuff his hands in the largely decorative pockets on his suit.

It's not like I enjoy being up at all hours. It's just… I can't turn anyone away, not when they need help.

So it was okay if he ran himself a little bit ragged, if it meant his clients could leave their holding cells a little sooner and go home to their families. But he couldn't ask the same of Shinji. Guilt tightened his throat when he thought of how his friend would occasionally snatch folders off his desk, ignoring Shirou's protests as he bad-temperedly added them to his own pile. I'll do a better job of hiding them from now on, he promised himself. I can finish the work myself, if I cut back on dojo training and cooking time. Maybe if I freeze big batches and reheat portions during the week…

The thought saddened Shirou. He found cooking relaxing, one of the few pleasures he allowed himself because tasty food always made the people around him smile. But it had been a long time since anyone had sat at his table (the thought brought a brief ache to his heart, before he pushed it away with ease borne of practice), and in any event it was a sacrifice he needed to make. He couldn't leave anyone behind, not when he could save them (not ever again).

A nudge from Shinji pulled him from his thoughts. They'd stopped just outside the gymnasium door now, the conversation within a dull roar punctuated with high notes of laughter and clinking glass.

"Fashionably late, just as planned." His friend grinned as he gripped the handlebar. "Show time, Shirou!"

With a flourish, he threw it open and they strode in. If nostalgia had struck Shirou in the hallways of his old school, it practically choked him when he stepped on the polished wood of the gymnasium. Underneath the crowd and the bright banners, the room looked the same as ever. The same high curved ceiling and square windows, the same stage at the front even if the curtains looked new, and the same scent of floor cleaner and wax covering up old sweat. Everything spotless, of course — but then, it would be. Mitsuzuri—he supposed he should append sensei to that now—would make heads roll if everything wasn't up to scratch in her facilities.

The room was packed with people, either enjoying themselves or pretending to with various degrees of success. The lateness of the pair's arrival meant that little clusters had already drifted towards the centre, away from the food and drinks laid out on the back tables. Shinji was right — their old schoolmates looked to have dressed up a bit, even if most of the suits and dresses weren't quite so formal as the attorneys' own attire.

Seven years, Shirou thought again as he spotted a few familiar faces — acquaintances, but not the friends he was looking for, or certain other people he found himself hoping to pick out from the crowd. I can't believe it's already been seven years. I hope she—

"Hey, Shin-man!" called a booming voice. "Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you. Get on over here."

"Nothing bad, I hope," laughed Shinji as eager hands waved them over. Well, waved the Matou heir over, leaving Shirou to follow along in his wake.

Biting back another yawn, the redhead waited patiently as his friend happily chatted up the circle, exchanging jokes and pleasantries with a natural ease. A few of the participants briefly nodded at him when their gazes met, but their interest always quickly turned back to the animated Shinji.

Shirou didn't mind. Always popular for his handsome face and deep pockets, Shinji had become something of a sensation in his last year at Homuhara, when he had shed much of the aggressive attitude that had driven a wedge between him and his schoolmates. That same year saw the rekindling of their old friendship. Letting his friend bask in his element was an easy way to show his gratitude for all of Shinji's support since then.

Besides, hovering on the edge of the conversation made it easy for Shirou to discreetly resume his search. A flutter of violet hair near the far side had just caught his eye when he felt an elbow nudge him in the ribs, none too gently.

"Oi, Shirou." Shinji was frowning at him, a glint of concern in his eyes "You're being awfully quiet."

"It's just a lot of people, that's all," shrugged Shirou, wincing at his weak excuse.

But he barely remembered these people, and most of the discussion was flying over his head. It didn't help that an all too familiar discomfort was settling over him, the nagging sense that he didn't belong here. Didn't belong among these cheerful smiling faces.

"You just need some liquid courage, that's all." Shinji nodded to the circle as he deftly steered Shirou towards the drinks table. "If you'll please excuse us…"

They had only taken a few steps before a woman in a form-fitting blue dress intercepted them by firmly attaching herself to Shinji's arm. Chestnut curls bounced prettily as she beamed at him.

"Shinji, how wonderful to see you again!... oh, and Emiya-san too, of course."

The face was familiar, although it took an embarrassingly long time for a name to float up from his memories. Ah yes, Ikeda Mitsuki. Once of the girls that Shinji used to date casually, before he left Fuyuki to study abroad for a few years.

"Mitsuki, you're as lovely as ever," said Shinji, with a touch of the old unctuousness that always made Shirou want to roll his eyes. "Truly, an angel has descended upon us tonight."

"Flatterer," she giggled, before running an appreciative gaze over him. "You've done so well for yourself, too. Tell me, what kind of law did you end up practicing? Something big and impressive— international business?"

"Not quite," said Shinji, trying and failing to hide the sudden strain in his smile. "But rewarding work, all the same. If I could bore you with some of the details—"

"Oh, please do!"

Shirou took that as his cue to give his friend some space, proceeding alone toward the drinks table. The fact was that between his grades and his practiced charm, Shinji probably could have practiced any kind of law he wanted. That he had instead chosen to follow Shirou into criminal defense, and an apprenticeship with an old curmudgeon no less… the redhead still didn't understand, but he was grateful for it. Enough to make himself scarce as Shinji snagged himself a date for the weekend.

Sighing, he forced down the small twinge of loneliness in his chest as he maneuvered his way through the crowd. He didn't have the right to feel that way, not since he started turning down the blind dates Shinji arranged for him. Another small pleasure sacrificed on the altar of work, but he wouldn't allow himself to regret it.

Chin up, Emiya, he thought as he reached the table, with its assortment of glasses and long-necked bottles, you've got people you wanted to see tonight, anyway. Issei, and Mitsuzuri and Sakura, and maybe—

He was just reaching for a wine glass when another hand closed on it, brushing against his own. Slender and elegant, but with a surprising amount of small calluses on the fingertips.

"Ahh, sorry!" he said automatically.

"No, no, it's my mistake," said a clear feminine voice, and once again the years seemed to fall away.

Glancing up, he found himself staring into aquamarine eyes and felt his heart give a little turn. Tohsaka Rin had lost none of her beauty over the years. Dark hair, worn loose instead of the pigtails he remembered, cascaded down her shoulders. It looked like midnight ink spilled across her pale skin and the deep crimson of her dress.

Shirou blinked, realizing he was staring, but Tohsaka didn't seem to notice. She was staring too, gaze intent as she seemed to compare him to the boy she had once known. Then she caught herself, smoothing out her expression into a polished mask of good manners.

"Emiya-kun," she said with a pleasant smile. "No, I suppose it should be Emiya-san now. It's been quite a while."

"Seven years," he nodded. "What have you been up to, Tohsaka?"

"Growing older, like the rest of us," she said with a touch of humour as she accepted the red wine he poured for her. "But if you mean how I earn my bread, I took over my family's business in estate planning."

"I see. That sounds interesting."

"Liar," she said, more amused than upset. "But it's kind of you to say so." She laughed and raised the glass to her lips. "I suppose it's rewarding enough in its way."

Shirou found himself frowning as he watched her take a delicate sip. As lovely as her laughter was, he didn't miss the subtle slump in her shoulders, or the strain dimming her eyes.

The spark's still gone, he thought with some regret as he poured his own drink. That spark of life and fiery drive for perfection that, more than looks, had drawn him to Tohsaka back in their school days. Admittedly he had been too fixed on his path to do much more than admire her from a distance, but Issei's accusation that he'd fallen for her charms did hold some grain of truth.

Then she had fallen ill in their second year. Only for two weeks, but when she returned, the spark had guttered out. While she still achieved the same high marks, still displayed the same practiced smile, none of it touched her eyes. As if everything was done from habit, or perhaps out of duty, but without passion. Even Issei had commented on it.

Shirou had briefly wondered on the trip here whether he might see Tohsaka tonight, and whether the years might have rekindled that spark. Nowhere near as much as I was hoping.

But while she seemed tired underneath her manners, there was genuine warmth in her smile as she raised her glass towards him, encouraging him to drink his own. He found himself smiling back.

"Congratulations on finishing your internship, by the way," she said after a moment. "The Legal Research and Training Institution is supposed to be pretty grueling."

"Ahh, thanks," said Shirou, resisting the urge to scratch his cheek. Then he stiffened."Wait, you knew about that?"

"Sakura told me about it," she smiled.

He could have kicked himself. It was only natural that sisters would talk, even if he was surprised to find himself an object of discussion. Admittedly not as surprised as they'd all been when Tohsaka had publicly declared the family relationship in their last year, fueling the school gossip mill for months—

Blinking, Shirou realized Tohsaka was patiently waiting for him to continue. Resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, he watched the wine swirling in his glass.

"Makami-san says I've got a long way to go," he grumbled. "But I'm going to stick with it, no matter what. That's the path I've chosen."

"Makami?"

"My senior lawyer," he clarified. "He's got some rough edges, but he's a good guy underneath. I'm learning a lot from him."

"Hah. I'm sure Lady Velvet can rest easier at night, knowing someone is keeping a close eye on you," she said, her smile taking on shades of a teasing smirk. It was an expression he didn't remember from her idol days, but he found that he liked it.

"Fuji-nee's one to talk," he snorted, though not without affection. "Not when she still calls me every week to ask what went wrong with her recipe."

For all that Shirou sighed when he heard his adopted sister's pleading voice on the other end, he enjoyed those calls. They offered a brief but welcome distraction from his books, and the chance to catch up now that he so rarely saw her in person.

"I'm waiting for the day her husband gives up and does the cooking himself," he continued with a shake of his head.

"Be careful what you wish for," grimaced Tohsaka. "El-Melloi the Second learnt all his cooking in London, and not in the good places either. Bleak does not begin to describe it."

"Oh, you know him too?"

"Emiya, who do you think introduced them?" she said, a bit of pride seeping into her voice. "Although I have to admit it wasn't intentional. We had to drop by Sakura's place for business, a certain tiger had invited herself over for dinner… and, well, one thing led to another."

"I never expected a Professor of Anthropology to be so good with wild beasts," he said good-naturedly.

"Anthropology. Is that what he's calling it?" Tohsaka looked subtly amused. "Well, I suppose—"

Her mouth snapped shut and her brow visibly darkened as she spotted something over Shirou's shoulder. Shifting to follow her gaze, he saw Shinji striding towards them wearing his most charming smile.

"Ahh, Tohsaka," he said, "Thank you for looking after Shirou for me. Lovely evening, isn't it?"

"Matou." There was hard ice in her eyes as she forced a polite smile to her lips, and her grip visibly tightened on the stem of her glass.

Shirou couldn't help but wince in sympathy for his friend. I guess that didn't change, either. It was no secret that Shinji had a massive crush on the school idol in their younger days, not with the way he hit on her at every opportunity. In the early days, she had turned him down with indifference edging into dislike. But that was another thing that had changed in second year, when dislike had suddenly and irrevocably soured into outright loathing. It seemed that sentiment was still firmly in place.

Socialite that he fancied himself, Shinji valiantly tried again. "That's a nice dress, Tohsaka."

"You think so?" she said, her smile all teeth. "I wonder if I can still return it, then."

Shirou had weathered many awkward conversations in his short time working under Makami, but the strain in Shinji's smile and the wired tension in Tohsaka's jaw were a bit much even for him. Desperately he cast his eyes out over the crowd, looking for some sort of distraction.

Salvation appeared in the form of short dark-blue hair and a familiar pair of glasses. "Hey, there's Issei," he said, pointing him out among the gathered bodies. "And Mitsuzuri too. Why don't we all go over and say hello?"

Thankfully, both Shinji and Tohsaka seemed open to his suggestion, following his lead as he guided them over their waiting friends.

"Ah, Emiya." Issei spotted him easily on the approach. A nod of satisfaction, before some of the pleasure drained from his face when he spotted his companions. "And… gah… Matou and Tohsaka, too."

"Oh, don't be like that Ryuudou," said Mitsuzuri, clapping him on the back and earning a frown in return. She didn't seem the least bit bothered, amber eyes glittering merrily. "We're here to have fun, yeah? Anyway, it's been years since your student council fights. Time to bury the hatchet."

"What hatchet, Ayako?" asked Tohsaka sweetly. "I only ever made sure our Student President was diligent in his duties."

"Hmph. With all the trouble you caused, it's a wonder I ever managed to push anything through."

Mitsuzuri snorted. "And yet your name is still a legend— ah, thank you, Sakura!"

She beamed as they were joined by the younger woman—in this environment, that tiny age gap seemed to matter again—and eagerly accepted the beer cup pressed into her hands.

"My pleasure, but that's your last one tonight," said Sakura, the fondness in her eyes taking nothing away from the sternness of her voice. "I'm opening the shop early tomorrow, so we need to get home at a reasonable time."

"No fair," grumped Mitsuzuri, but discreetly reached for Sakura's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Lingered a moment more before letting go.

The sight warmed Shirou's heart, and for a moment he found himself thinking—no, forget it, Emiya. It's not for you.

So he let the conversation ripple and flow around him, paddling in whenever his friends asked him a question or sought his opinion. Even though he was doing a lot more listening than talking, Shirou found he was enjoying himself. That would have been unacceptable, especially when his desk was piled high with (people to save) cases, if not for the clear fact that his presence here was making them happy. Even Shirou couldn't deny it, not in the face of Mitsuzuri's bold laughter and Issei's reluctant smile, the pleasure of having Sakura fuss over his health and eating habits. Even Tohsaka seemed to be slowly relaxing, although her eyes still seemed troubled—

"Did you happen to look at their menu, Emiya…? Hellooo, earth to Emiya! Are you even listening?"

Shirou blinked. Mitsuzuri was frowning at him, hands placed indignantly on her hips. Beside her, Sakura was muffling her laughter behind cupped hands, while Shinji shot him a look of mild reproach.

"Sorry, I drifted for a moment there."

"No kidding," said Mitsuzuri, puffing out her cheeks in discontent.

"We were just talking about the cafe at the new shopping arcade," said Sakura smoothly, patting her partner on the shoulder. "The one that opened up on the south side of Shintou. Have you been there, Shirou?"

"Ahh, no. I haven't really had the chance." It was the first he'd even heard of it, actually.

"Huh," said Mitsuzuri, her brow already lightening now that he was engaged again. "I thought that's where you might have gotten that suit. They've got a lot of clothing shops." Ignoring Shinji's intake of breath, she instead turned to Tohsaka. "Weren't you going there this weekend to upgrade your wardrobe?"

"There's nothing wrong with my wardrobe." Tohsaka prickled with indignation. "I just thought I might do some window-shopping, see if anything caught my eye."

"So you won't be busy," smirked Mitsuzuri. There was a dangerous gleam in her eye, one that Shirou remembered all too well from their archery competitions.

"Ayako, no," growled Tohsaka, so low that he almost missed it, a hint of pink rising in her cheeks.

The other woman only nudged her shoulder, with perhaps less subtlety than intended.

"Alright, alright!" hissed the former idol, before straightening herself up. She hesitated a touch longer, then turned to Shirou. "If you haven't visited it yet, do you want to go together?" Seeing his eyes widen, she crossed her arms and huffed. "Don't misunderstand! I just remember how hopeless you were in school, so a guy like you could definitely use a guide."

"Seriously, Rin…" groaned Mitsuzuri, while Issei glowered and Sakura suppressed a fresh set of giggles.

Shirou considered the offer. He didn't really have the time to spare, but he had a sinking feeling that turning her down would snuff out the brightness that had slowly been building in her eyes all evening. And if he were honest with himself, she still fascinated him, even after all these years.

Where's the harm? We're just going as friends; it doesn't have to be anything more complicated than that. And If I get take-out on Sunday, I can stay later at the office to make up for it.

So he nodded. "This weekend's a bit tricky, but maybe next Saturday? If that works for you."

Tohsaka stiffened, blue eyes scrutinizing him carefully. When it became clear he was serious, she let herself relax again. A smile flitted across her face.

"Smart of you," she declared, digging into her purse and handing him her phone. "Here, put in your contact information."

"Really, Neesan?" laughed Sakura. "It's not that complicated, you know."

"It's not my fault," Tohsaka huffed. "Tch. Just when I got comfortable with my flip phone, they forced this thing on me."

Shirou silently punched his number in. He couldn't help but notice how few names there were on her contact list.

"Hmph. That's how they sink their claws into you," said Issei mournfully as he straightened his glasses. "Have a care, Emiya. If you wish, I shall recite some sutras for y—"

"Don't you start that again, Ryuudou—!"

His friends fell to bickering again, but Shirou didn't mind. Some habits died hard, that was all, and the old venom had faded. Soon enough the dispute was forgotten, buried underneath the flow of gossip and anecdotes. It was really nice, being around their smiling faces again. Shirou found himself… not happy, he was never entitled to that, but content.

When ten o'clock rolled around, it was with considerable reluctance that he nudged Shinji's shoulder to go. Shinji frowned, but acquiesced with a surprising lack of fuss. They said their goodbyes, then made their way outside into the cool night air.

"Hey, Shinji…" said Shirou when they were halfway towards the main gates, their shoes echoing on the pavement. "Thanks. For tonight, I mean."

Shinji took a deep breath, then turned to face Shirou fully. Instead of the expected smirk, his lips were pressed in a grim line. His eyes seemed oddly haunted under his drawn brow.

"Shinji…?" said Shirou, feeling unease low in his belly.

"Tohsaka, huh," his friend said at last. "Be careful with that one, Shirou."

Confusion furrowed Shirou's brows for a moment, before the obvious dawned on him. "Hey, if you're still after her—"

"No," said Shinji, with the finality of truth chiselled in cold stone. "She'll never look at me that way."

Unsure of what to say, his tongue heavy in his mouth, Shirou watched his friend glance up towards the night sky. The stars were barely visible, drowned out by the cold light of a full autumn moon.

The silence stretched for a few heartbeats, then Shinji continued in a low voice. "There's a darkness in that woman. Something you're better off far away from."

"That's pretty harsh, Shinji," said Shirou, feeling a bit of irritation prickle at his skin. "I know you don't get along, and she's got a bit of a temper, but I'm sure she's a good person."

He didn't fully understand why he felt the need to defend her, not when they hadn't seen each other in seven years. They hadn't even been that close in school. And yet… that burnt out look in her eyes… it's too bothersome. I can't just leave things like that.

"Always the noble idiot," Shinji gritted out, then his shoulders slumped. "I know I can't stop you, but… look, just watch yourself."

Before Shirou could reply, the other man had pulled away. He didn't look back as he strode out into the gloom of the streets, his phone pulled out to dial a cab.

Shirou watched him go, torn between annoyance at the suggestion that he couldn't look after himself, and a nagging sense of disquiet. Shinji could be a bit of a drama queen, but he had looked uncharacteristically serious in his warning.

Sighing, he checked the time on his phone. 10:12, so the buses were still running. He could get a little more work done if he stopped by the office. It was unlikely that Makami was still around, but his mentor sometimes kept odd hours. If he was, then Shirou wasn't too proud to call and ask for a fresh pot of coffee waiting in the kitchen.

His thumb scrolled down his list of contacts. It wasn't all that much longer than Tohsaka's, so it wasn't entirely surprising to see her name flash by on his way down.

Maybe Shinji was right. But when he remembered the way blue eyes had shone as he'd punched in her information, Shirou knew it didn't matter. Going to the shopping arcade would make her happy, so he would go. Making people happy was what Emiya Shirou did.

It was the only way he could live with himself.

Chapter Text

Rin leaned against the stone pillar at the entrance of the shopping arcade, feeling out of place and increasingly out of sorts. The long black skirt and cream blouse that had seemed perfect when she set out that afternoon—stylish, but still casual enough for friends—now felt like a neon sign declaring she was waiting for someone.

Someone who still hasn't shown up, and she was sure the passersby had noticed. Admittedly it was still five minutes to eleven o' clock, but she couldn't keep from tapping her foot.

Damn that Ayako, for getting Rin into this situation. Yes, she had expressed mild curiosity about what kind of person Emiya had grown into. By that, she had actually meant whether reality had finally ground down the boy who refused to accept his limits; finally torn the pole from his stubborn fingers—

— finally killed the fire that blazed in him, the fire that had once challenged Rin to keep reaching for her goals despite the doubts and guilt and loneliness dragging her down—

But of course Ayako had interpreted it as the remnants of a crush, which was doubly irritating because it wasn't entirely wrong, even if it was a distant thing after all these years. Which meant Ayako had gotten involved, and now Rin was standing here like an idiot, waiting for a man she barely knew and hoping for… what, exactly?

To satisfy my curiosity, she told herself, even though it didn't sit quite right on her heart. To see if at least one of us got the future we reached for. She sighed. And also an excuse to leave the library for a few hours.

She checked her phone again. No messages, or so she assumed by the lack of a red exclamation mark next to the messaging app. But wait, what if she'd messed up the settings again?

"Hey, Tohsaka."

Sakura says he's busy all the time, she thought as she pressed her finger on the icon, with rather more force than necessary. Her brows knit together. If he went and cancelled on me—

"Tohsaka?"

"What?" she snapped, and found herself staring into Emiya's earnest face. "Oh. There you are."

She really hoped that the embarrassment she felt burning her face wasn't visible.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Yes, everything's fine," she huffed. "Just checking something, that's all." Realigning the thin straps of her purse, she offered him her brightest smile. "Shall we get going, then?"

"Yeah." He peered ahead into the arcade, with its patterned-tile floors and array of brightly-coloured storefronts. A few shoppers were already milling around, the first trickles of the river that would pass through closer to noon. "You're here for clothes, right?"

"I could use a few new blouses, and maybe a skirt or two," she said, "Especially now that I've got someone to carry the bags for me."

"Hey, we're not—!"

"Pfft, hahaha! You should have seen your face." A cat would have envied her smirk. "Although if you did want to hold them, we could call it a fee for showing you around."

"It's overpriced," he frowned, though the corners of his mouth were threatening to turn it into a smile. "This is daylight robbery."

"Any guy should be happy to be robbed by a beautiful woman!" she declared, entirely unabashed.

They traded quips as they headed inside, Shirou walking slowly as he took in various shops. It gave Rin the opportunity to appraise him, from the tousled red hair to the green jacket and comfortable gray slacks that encased his long legs. They looked serviceable enough for a day strolling in the city, but they were definitely not date clothes. A part of her was vaguely disappointed by that, before she swallowed it down.

Sure, he aged well, but neither of us came here with those expectations. We were never close in high school, and it's been years since. Her nose crinkled. Still, you'd think he'd make a bit more effort for a beautiful girl.

"This one?" called Shirou, tilting his head at a store lined with racks of casual clothes in a variety of autumn styles.

"Good eye," she nodded. "An old hand at this, hmm?"

"Not really. But it's pretty straightforward, isn't it? I mean, most clothes pretty much look the same—"

One look at her withering expression brought him to a halt.

"I see I was mistaken," said Rin loftily. "I'll give you a crash course, then. Consider it part of your package."

Seizing him by the arm, she tugged him into the store. A bit forward—actually, a lot too forward by Japanese standards, even if time in London had relaxed her own—but Rin didn't care. That was the kind of ignorance that just couldn't be allowed to stand a moment longer.

The saleswoman gave Rin a polite berth as she stalked through the racks, picking out what she needed to prove her point. A ruffled red blouse here, a pair of leather boots there. Soon both of their arms were full. She left him standing outside the changing room while she got to work.

Rin found herself smiling as she pulled on the first outfit, a demure gray sweater and long skirt. Follow it up with the blouse and the tight slacks, and he'll have to eat his words. The thought sent a little thrill down her spine, the first she had felt in some time.

But when she showed him the clothes—okay, modelled them for him, she hadn't quite lost her inclination to preen even after everything—he only briefly glanced at them before delivering his verdict.

"Sure, that looks fine."

"I'm not sure I see the difference, aren't they both red?"

"The material on this one looks tougher. It'll hold up better to a laundry machine."

Dissatisfaction gnawed at Rin's belly. The nerve of the man, sitting there looking so indifferent when she was putting her fashion skills to the test. She swept her gaze over the store, looking for something that might pull him from his calm, when inspiration struck.

"Thank you, Emiya. You've been very helpful," she purred, noting with some satisfaction the touch of alarm in his eyes. Not so stupid after all. "But while we're here, shouldn't we look for you as well?"

"Huh? No, no, I've got everything I need—"

"Nonsense. Just the other night, Matou—" the name was sour on her lips, but it was a necessary evil here, "—was complaining that you've barely got any work clothes. Now's your chance to stock up."

"I suppose," he said doubtfully, looking towards the dress shirts on the far wall. "Maybe one of those—"

"Oh no, Emiya. Let's start with the discount rack first, mmm? After all, you said it yourself — most clothes look the same."

With that, she pressed an absolutely atrocious number into his hands, a shirt with black stripes so erratic, any self-respecting zebra would have snorted in derision.

"Oh come on, Tohsaka!"

"It'll be fun!" She flashed him a winning smile as she reached for an oversized set of sunglasses. "Here, try these on too. A perfect match!"

Shirou crossed his arms defensively, and for a moment she thought she had pressed him too far. But before dismay could settle in, he was smirking at her.

"Okay, but only if I get to choose yours, too."

"Hey, wait a minute—"

Too late. Shirou had already grabbed the offered items, then pressed a hideous floral print dress on her in return. The challenge was all too bright in those sherry-brown eyes.

"Fine, you're on! Loser pays for the other's lunch."

Fortunately the food at the cafe was really good, which took some of the sting out of Rin's eventual defeat at the hands of a plaid abomination masquerading as a coat. Not to mention the picture of the two of them wearing silly hats and glasses, smiling for the camera like a pair of idiot teenagers. Perhaps it wasn't exactly elegant or dignified, especially since she'd needed him to figure out the function on her phone, but it was the most fun she'd had in a while.

Even if they did end up arguing a bit about the cafe's recipe for beef stew, and whether curry had any place in gyoza dumplings.

By the time Tohsaka paid the bill and they returned to the bustling arcade, Shirou was feeling pretty satisfied with the day. From their days back at school and her demeanour at the reunion, he had expected his former classmate to be all grace and poise. She was, when she remembered to be, but the business with the clothes had also revealed hints of a competitive streak and acid tongue that didn't fit with his image of the school idol. When she had declared that cooking was a woman's instrument of war, slapping her palms down on the table rather than smiling demurely, he could see the shadow of the devil Issei had always insisted lurked under her mask.

Instead of disappointment, he found himself rather liking it. The more he poked at her, the more her eyes brightened as she poked back. Still only a ghost of her old spark, but he was glad to see it.

Shirou was just pulling out his phone to check the time when Tohsaka tugged at his arm again. "Got time for one more stop, Emiya?"

He didn't really, but nodded anyway. "Found another way to embarrass me, have you?" he said, then frowned. "A bookstore?"

"Hmph. I thought you might deserve something for being so patient, but now I'm not so sure…"

"Is the lady Tohsaka dissatisfied?" he smiled, then pulled away. "That's fine, then. It's getting late anyway—"

"Oh shut up and come!" she snapped, her grip turning to iron.

As soon as they set foot inside the store, Tohsaka made a beeline for the foreign books. Given that he couldn't read half the titles of the hefty volumes she pulled out and considered, he found himself drifting over to the manga section. Shinji would probably scream at him about appearances and professionalism, but hanging out with the former school idol had put him in a nostalgic mood.

Speaking of nostalgic, is that Red Lion Requiem? He smiled at the titular character, a retired knight depicted sitting next to a grinning boy and surrounded by armor pieces scattered on the grass. As much as he liked stories about heroes, he liked the ones centered around the people they saved even more. Wow, it's up to volume 23 already. I never made it to number five before studying caught up with me.

Thumbing through the pages, he didn't notice Tohsaka approaching until she leaned over his shoulder.

"Hmm? What's that you've got there?"

"Ah, nothing," he said. "Just something I used to r— hey!"

Cheerfully snatching the book from his hand, she turned it over to read the back.

"I see." Her voice took on a teasing lilt. "Pretty sentimental for a guy your age."

"You're probably into big serious books with sad endings, right?" he said, crossing his arms.

Instead of needling him, she looked pensive as she smoothed a hand over the knight's face. "I used to, because they felt more real. Because that's how I thought the world worked." She sighed. "I think I want to see happy ones now."

She stared at the cover a moment longer, then thrust it back into his hands. "You should buy it." Seeing him hesitate, she clicked her tongue impatiently. "Take some time for yourself too, or you'll burn out. Then you're of no use to anyone."

Shirou opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. Shinji kept saying that too. Shirou didn't agree, but… maybe he should try, for their sake.

Tohsaka seemed both surprised and pleased when he bought the fifth volume, intending to pick up where he left off. Pleased enough to buy the next book in the series and add it to his bag.

"A gift for keeping me company today," she said, before shooting him a warning glare. "Don't argue."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The afternoon sun was warm on his face when they left the arcade, a welcome contrast to his sore feet. We really did play around a lot today, he thought, longer than I planned for. But it was fun.

It was only a passing thought, but it brought his mood crashing down. He didn't deserve to enjoy himself like this, not when all the others would never get that chance. Not when he had been saved, but had yet to save anyone in turn. To think he had let himself get swept along, swayed by a single smile when so many of his clients were anxiously awaiting news about their cases—

"Haa," said Tohsaka beside him as she stretched, the bag shifting in her grip. "That was a bit tiring, but I'm glad we came here."

Despite the haughty tilt of her chin, there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Shirou breathed a sigh of relief as the tide of guilt receded from his lungs, even as Tohsaka glanced at him and her smile faded to a tight press of lips.

Coming here today made Tohsaka happy, he nodded to himself. And if I work late again tomorrow, I can make up the lost time. So maybe… yeah. It's okay if I enjoyed myself, too. He let himself relax, and saw the tension leave her in turn.

When they waved each other off, and she told him they should do it again sometime, he found he was looking forward to it.

Coming home to an empty house didn't bother Rin. Years of practice had eased the vise that once squeezed her heart every time she walked past the silent bedrooms, or set a single plate down on the table. The manor was her domain, where she could let her mask down and practice her arts away from prying eyes. Even if it sometimes also felt like a prison these days, it still offered the simple comfort of the familiar.

The clink of the cup seemed louder than usual when she set it back on its saucer.

Despite her best efforts to stretch out the task as long as possible, Rin had finished hanging up her new clothes. Tea and a light snack provided an excuse to delay things a little longer, but then she would need to buckle down to her magecraft. The syringe was waiting upstairs on the dresser, the one she used to draw blood with which to charge her gems.

Even if the War had been a disaster, Rin was still the Second Owner of Fuyuki. She had responsibilities to carry out, leyline flows to verify and research to conduct. That the Grail no longer offered a path to the Root did not absolve her of her duty to seek another one.

"Look at your foolish Master now, Archer," she sighed, brooding over her cup."Doing the same things over and over, and expecting a different result."

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the ironic smile set under steel-gray eyes, hear the warmth hidden underneath the sarcastic drawl of his baritone voice. It was a bad habit she had developed after the War, imagining the spirit leaning over her shoulder, offering commentary that was somehow grating and comforting at once. Despite the deadly conflict they had been embroiled with, she had enjoyed his company, even if she had never told him as much.

Too late now, like so many other things in Rin's life. Still, when she found herself wandering around the empty house on particularly sentimental days…

Leaning back in her chair, she pictured him turning from his place at the kitchen counter, dishcloth still in hand. Offering her that familiar smirk, that infuriating shrug.

"Give me a break. What happened to the unreasonable girl who called herself my Master? The one so determined to have her way that she almost got us killed several times over?"

"She finally grew up," said Rin, then took a long sip of tea to help down the melancholy.

Since Rin had taken her first toddling steps, her father had impressed upon her that magecraft was a life of pain and sacrifice. But there had been wonder to it too, and the promise of something greater. Something beautiful and eternal, brought within her reach.

The War was supposed to have been her chance to crystallize that promise, and make her ancestors proud. Instead everything had crumbled to ash.

"Oh? And here I thought it was childish spite that drove you to help Waver Velvet dismantle the Grail."

She couldn't help but giggle.

"I'm not going to say it didn't feel good! After everything that damn cup put us through, I really enjoyed ripping the whole thing out from my leylines." Then she sighed, slouching back in her seat. "But it gave me purpose, too. Even if most of the Association lost interest after the fifth ritual failed, it was too dangerous to leave in place. Getting rid of the Grail system was a worthy use of magecraft."

"And now?"

"I don't know," she grimaced. "I mean, I know what I'm supposed to do. Keep researching a way to the Root, raise an heir, pass along my Crest and findings… that's the duty of every magus. It should be enough."

"But it isn't."

"No. But what else can I do? This is what I do, Archer. This is what I am."

The Servant didn't say anything more, but she could sense that disapproving gaze prickling against the nape of her neck. It was intensely irritating, and all the more so because as a figment of her imagination, she couldn't brain him with the pot.

Rin tapped her fingers mechanically on the table, wishing for something to distract her from the emotions roiling in her gut. Her gaze strayed towards the end of the table, and the phone she had absently placed there. She never carried it anywhere near her workshop, sure the stupid thing would ring and break her concentration at the worst possible moment.

She hesitated, then picked it up. Struggling with the menus felt worth it when she finally pulled up the pictures they had taken that afternoon.

She giggled. Emiya looked ridiculous in that hat. Justified revenge after he forced those hair clips on her. And who knew he had a thing for twintails...

A burning twitch in her left arm reminded her that her circuits were charged, and she really should be transferring their power into gems. Rin's smile faded.

"Get serious, Rin. Even if he was interested, you'd only be wasting time. And you're not getting any younger. Twenty-five years old— that's Christmas Cake," she muttered.

Twenty-five, and high time she got married and produced an heir. The stack of letters piled on her desk was a stark reminder. Correspondence from various Clocktower connections and Japanese magus clans, all of them politely but blatantly feeling her out for an engagement. The longer she left the matter unsettled, the more her choices would dry up.

Just pick one, already. Love doesn't factor into this at all, so just logically consider the benefits of each offer.

A memory floated up, blurred by age but still painful after more than a decade. A little girl pulled away towards a waiting car, clutching a pink ribbon in her hand.

Stop it. Just stop it. Father made a terrible mistake, but that doesn't mean all magus families end up like that.

But too many did.

Rin found her eyes straying to the phone again.

Forget it, Rin. You don't even know that Emiya feels the same way. Half the time, it was like he wasn't even there. No, more like he was putting the brakes on to stop himself from being there. She clenched her hands, resisting the urge to chew her fingernail. It's so hard to tell what he's thinking.

Rin hesitated again, then pulled the phone closer. Still, it really was fun... even if it's not a good idea, I want to see him again.

Some of the old greed trickled back into her veins, the magus' desire to build and rule her world. A world consisting of the things she wanted and valued. And right now, she wanted that ruffled hair and steady voice.

Even if Emiya had proven himself to be a sarcastic ass when pushed a bit.

Grinning to herself, she fumbled through the contact list and pressed down, missing the way her thumb slipped in her eagerness. She couldn't quite believe she was doing this.

One ring… two rings… she forced down the small flutter in her heart as something on the other end of the line clicked.

"Millefeuille Bakery, orders and deliveries. How can I be of help today?"

Rin didn't hurl her phone against the wall, but it was a near thing.

Chapter Text

"Sorry, Tohsaka. I know we rescheduled for today, but work hit a snag. It's going to take a bit longer than I expected."

"It's Sunday, Emiya. We're all out of weekend, you know?" said Rin, letting a little irritation slip into her voice to cover the disappointment. Her fingers curled against the hard wood of the desk.

"I know, but it's urgent. Look, I'll call you once I've got it solved, and we can figure out a day."

"I'm beginning to think you don't want to see me, Emiya."

She said it in a teasing tone, but the thought gave her a jolt of apprehension. She had not forgotten the distant look in the man's eyes at the arcade the other day, just before they waved goodbye.

"I do, but this really can't wait." The frown was audible in his voice. "Sorry, Tohsaka."

Rin huffed as she paced back and forth in the study, certainly not stomping. "Fine, but you're going to make it up to me." She considered for a moment. "A new Western-style teahouse opened up in Miyama's old town, did you know? They're supposed to have lots of exotic blends."

"... you're going to make me treat you to all of them, aren't you?"

"Well, since you're offering..." she smirked, and relished the groan she got in response. "But I'm a gracious woman. If you beg, maybe I'll leave it to just the most expensive one."

"You really are a devil," he sighed. There was a shuffle on the other end. "Sorry, I have to go now."

Before Rin could get another word in, the line went dead. She frowned at the phone's screen for a few seconds more, then morosely set it down on the side table.

"Well, he did say he could rarely go out to relax because of all his cases," she told herself as she sat back in her seat with a sigh. "This is normal, I guess…"

It was probably for the best, anyway. She had a lot of rituals to complete, the followup to the research she had brought with her from the Clocktower. The magic circle was already set up in the basement. Might as well get an early start. If she got too lonely, there was always the imaginary Archer.

Reaching for the box of gems in the desk drawer, Rin found herself pausing when the distant noise of a backfiring engine drew her gaze to the study's windows. It looked to be a beautiful day outside, judging from the sunlight shining through the edges of the curtains.

"Screw it." The box was firmly thrown to the back of the drawer. She stretched and rose from the desk. "I already freed up my schedule for today. I don't need that jerk to go out and enjoy myself."

That, and the lingering disappointment was already making it difficult for her to concentrate on the papers in front of her. Spellcasting was risky enough without a distracted mind.

She padded down the hall towards the front entrance, pausing to collect her bag and phone along the way.

"Maybe I should call Ayako… no, she and Sakura have a date by the river today."

Unfortunately, they were some of the only friends she still kept regular touch with here in Fuyuki. Most of the others — Makidera, Watanabe, even sweet Saegusa with her not-so-hidden crush — had tried to stay in touch, but eventually drifted off despite best efforts. It was to be expected, with all the hectic travelling Rin had done between Europe and Japan as part of her work with El-Melloi the Second. Another regret — once, she had made herself think of friends largely as accessories, cover for her public persona. By the time she could let herself honestly appreciate them, time and distance had pulled them away.

Which left her alone on a Saturday morning with no plans, no company, and a wallet full of cash.

Free, Rin told herself as she pulled on her coat and arranged her hair. These things are a matter of perspective.

"Where to go… it's been a while since I visited the pawn shops. I am running low on gems again, and they might have gotten new stock in."

Some of the poorer families that lived in north Miyama had originally come from wealth, and sometimes their heirlooms ended up traded away for desperately-needed cash. On rare occasions, such jewels might even contain a dormant elemental or other spirit. Rin might have been a proud woman, but she was also a magus, and not inclined to let the misfortunes of others get in the way of a good bargain.

There was a spring in her step as she left the manor, even if it felt a little forced. Gradually, she relaxed under the blue sky of an unusually warm autumn day as she made her way to the bus stop. No need for a taxi when taking it easy was half the point.

When the bus arrived, Rin took a seat near the back and settled in for the ride. It was a little hard not to lean up against the window as the streets flew by. The rumble of the engine and the vibration always made her a little sleepy.

But she wasn't so dazed that she didn't recognize the familiar head of auburn hair or the earnest face peering down at his phone screen as he boarded the bus.

"Emiya?" She frowned. "I thought he said he was working today. Where's he going?"

Instinctively she ducked her head as he came down the aisle, then cursed herself for it. Fortunately he seemed not to have noticed, still absorbed in his device as he took a seat halfway down. He was dressed smart casual, a sports coat slung over his dress shirt and trousers.

He doesn't seem the type to dress up just for a stroll, she thought, tilting her head as she considered him. But the courthouse is in Shinto, on the other side of the river. Maybe he's visiting a client?

Maybe, although she couldn't help but notice his attire was also suitable for a date.

That's fine, isn't it? Ayako said he was single, but she could be wrong. Maybe he's going on blind dates again, like she said he used to.

Her grip tightened a bit on the strap of her bag before she forced it to relax. If anything, that would be for the best. It would remove the temptation to seek anything more than a friendship, leaving her to concentrate on her duties.

Still, Rin found her gaze straying towards Emiya again. He was focused on the street signs flying past the windows, punctuated by occasional glances towards his phone. That suggested he wasn't familiar with his destination, whatever that was.

It's none of your concern, Rin, she chided herself, letting her head fall back on the headrest.

Magi were territorial people, and Rin had learnt at an early age the importance of respecting boundaries. In the Moonlit World, they were often enforced by threats of grievous bodily harm. But magi were also curious people, and Rin had spent much of her life struggling to control the natural inquisitiveness that had almost gotten her killed once, when she snooped among her father's books and crystals.

She wasn't that little girl anymore, but the old curiosity still made her fingers itch and powered the gears in her mind.

Where's he going? What's so important that he felt the need to cancel on me?

Conflicting instincts warred within her, but only briefly. T She wanted to know more about Emiya and satisfaction seemed within easy reach. She barely noticed when her stop passed by, keeping her eye on the redhead instead. When he got off the bus a while later, she quietly slipped after him.

Emiya took a few steps forward on cracked pavement before checking his phone again, glancing up at the street sign, then making his way down a narrow lane. Rin followed at a distance, careful to stop every time he paused to get his bearings. That gave her plenty of time to take in the sorry state of the houses, with their washed out facades and seedy atmosphere.

"What on earth…?" she muttered, then shook her head. She had come this far. No backing out until she got her answers.

If Emiya felt anxiety about the surroundings, he showed no sign of it. On the contrary, he didn't so much as flinch when his path took him through side streets and alleyways, the buildings growing ever more dilapidated. Clothes that might have passed for casual in an office stuck out like a sore thumb here, earning him suspicious stares from the inhabitants.

Rin bit her lip, all too aware that she was attracting her own share of unwanted attention. She briefly considered turning back, before curiosity and a flicker of wounded pride pushed her forward. Besides, she was a magus. She had little to fear from derelicts and day labourers, so long as she kept her wits about her.

Eventually they arrived at a slum proper, one of the rare few in Fuyuki. The road was a patchwork, bleached concrete lined with a spiders' web of shiny black tar. Weary men (there were very few women) watched her from dingy plastic chairs, or the stoops of houses held together by planks, tarps and desperation. The tension in the air thicked, an uncomfortable brew of failed dreams and simmering resentment. Rin had to resist the instinct to draw a charged gem from her pocket.

Emiya must have read the atmosphere too, for he didn't try to engage with his silent observers. Instead, he consulted his phone again, then strode across the grimy pavement towards a cluster of ramshackle houses.

He knocked on a door with peeled red paint. When no one answered, he tried again before glancing at the tar paper covering up the windows.

"Anybody home?" he called. Greeted only by silence, Emiya squared his shoulders and tried the door. It swung open with a low creak. "Excuse me," he said with a slight bow, then headed inside.

Rin counted out the seconds, then sidled up to the doorway so she could peek inside. She was just leaning around the frame when a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder.

Instincts honed by years of kenpo made Rin spin around and step forwardinto the hostile grip instead of trying to pull away. Taken aback, her aggressor offered no resistance when she yanked him off balance, then flipped him over her left shoulder.

There was a heavy thud and a yelp of pain. Rin moved back a healthy distance before cautiously turning around, her fists raised in a fighting stance. A stocky man was slowly picking himself up, groaning as he pressed a hand against his back.

"Tch!" She relaxed her guard a fraction, glaring down at him. "What do you think you're doing, grabbing a lady like that?"

A roar of voices echoed behind her, along with a clatter of footfalls.

"Eisuke!"

"What's she done to him?"

Cursing under her breath, Rin moved so her back was to the crumbled stone brick. It was frightening how quickly the crowd assembled, men in worn labourers' clothing and stern-faced women called in possible defense of a neighbour. Rin might have appreciated the sentiment more if it didn't mean a mass of bodies cutting her off from the street.

Murmuring under her breath, she drew some mana from her circuits to stealthily Reinforce her limbs. Just a little bit, she told herself, in case things turned unexpectedly sour. She had to remember that these were ordinary people closing in on her, not trained magi or the skeletal familiars that haunted her dreams. There was no need for excessive force.

"No need to play so rough, girl," said the presumed Eisuke as he brushed himself off and shot her a look.

"You snuck up on me first," she said, trying to keep her voice level. She could vent her indignation later. "You can hardly blame me for defending myself."

"That was your own fucking fault for hovering around that door."

Rin allowed herself a glance at the crowd and almost breathed a sigh of relief. The worst of the tension was dissipating now that she and Eisuke were speaking to each other, albeit in an unfriendly manner. Curiosity joined suspicion on the surrounding faces, and even a few looks of grudging anticipation.

Eisuke's cough caught her attention. "So what do you want, miss? If it's muscle you've come to hire, you won't find any in that house."

And now the anticipation made sense. Well-dressed strangers must rarely come to this part of town unless they were looking to hire some labour, including the shadier kind. Silently trailing Emiya and poking around the house uninvited must have firmly placed her in the latter category in their minds.

Embarrassing, but hopefully it meant they would lose interest quickly once she corrected them.

"I was just passing through," she said coolly. "If you'll let me through, I'll be on my way."

For a shining moment, it looked like they would do exactly that. Eisuke snorted in disbelief, but moved away towards a crowd that was already starting to drift apart. A few of the men and even some of the women were looking her up appraisingly, crude propositions already half-formed in the lift of their lips. Irritating, but nothing she hadn't fielded before in her pawn shop forays.

Rin let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding—

"No, fuck that!"

— then snapped her head around to see a rough looking man make his way through the crowd, broad shoulders outlined by a military-style green jacket. His mouth was set in a hard line that contrasted with the wet gleam in his dark eyes. People reluctantly stepped aside to make room, some giving him looks of uneasy sympathy.

Not a good sign. But trying to force an escape through the crowd now would only confirm in their minds that she was hiding something. Instead she forced herself to look him in the eye and wait.

"You came to collect more from Hina-chan, didn't you?" Green Jacket growled as he approached, hands clenched. "How's she ever supposed to pay you bastards back when you keep charging her more fucking interest?"

"A debt collector, then?"

"She doesn't look the type, but you never know. Maybe it's some trick…"

The crowd's mood was souring, the looks thrown her way growing more sullen. With the man's accusation, Rin was no longer just a stuck-up lady poking her nose where she didn't belong. Now she was the face of an entire system designed to grind down people already on their last legs.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Rin gave a small shake of her head. "I don't know that person. I'm not looking to take anything."

"Liar!" Green Jacket's face was a mask of grief and anger as he walked. He was less than ten feet away now. "You and that guy made a fucking beeline for her house, and you wanna tell me you're not looking for her?"

Emiya, what the hell have you gotten me into?

"There's a perfectly good explanation," she said firmly. "If you'll let me—"

"And you just happened to drop by now," the man cut her off with a snarl, "when her old man got dragged back to prison. When she'd be alone."

The crowd bristled angrily behind him.

"Too fucking late, aren't you?" Green Jacket came to a stop in front of her, then jabbed an accusatory finger towards the open doorway. "Unless you figured you'd snatch what you could from their place. Is that it?"

"That's not true," protested Rin, then jolted as a metal can hit the wall a short distance away.

Green Jacket looked surprised too, and even a little uneasy despite his anger. When a crowd got to the point of throwing things, it didn't take much for things to turn ugly, fast. The man clearly didn't like the idea. But he wasn't about to just let her go, either. There was far too much pain in his eyes for that.

Teeth clenched, Rin braced herself

Then the door next to her swung open, and Emiya stepped out onto the street. His sudden appearance made Green Jacket pause, along with the crowd at his back. Brows furrowed, Emiya quickly swept his gaze over the crowd, then startled when he spotted her.

"Tohsaka?" He turned back to the crowd, his eyes narrowing. "What's going on here?"

Ignoring the crowd's medley of shouted responses, Green Jacket whirled on him. "What are you doing in that house?" he growled. "You think you can just barge in and do what you like?"

Shirou glanced at Rin. "I.. we're looking for Ito Daisuke." He straightened his shoulders and offered the man a small smile. "This is Ito-san's house, isn't it? My name is Emiya Shirou." He gave a polite bow. "I'm his lawyer."

"Lawyer?" Green Jacket repeated skeptically, while the people talked among themselves and stared at Emiya as they digested this information. "Not a fucking chance. Old Man Daisuke could never afford one."

"The wolves got to give you one," offered a nearby woman with the jaded confidence of someone with experience on the subject. "You gotta be represented before they throw the book at ya."

Several people spat on the ground. Given the reputation of court-appointed lawyers, Rin couldn't blame them.

"That right?" muttered Green Jacket, looking a little disarmed before he glowered at Emiya again. "So you're who they gave him?"

"Not exactly," said Emiya with a pained smile. "Nakamura-san was assigned to represent Ito-san, but he's a bit stretched thin."

That's a polite way to say he doesn't give a damn, thought Rin as she stood by, hands still balled into fists. Not when he has private clients he could be billing.

The expressions surrounding her suggested it was a shared opinion.

"So I volunteered to take the case on," said Emiya calmly. "I came here looking for—"

"Yeah? And why would you do that?" Green Jacket cut him off and leaned aggressively towards him.

Rin tensed, but forced herself not to interfere. Not yet, not until there was no other choice. The War had taught her never to threaten violence unless she was prepared to immediately follow through. Around them the crowd stood in a half-circle, watching intently.

"Ito-san needed help," said Emiya as if that explained everything. "I'm was hoping to speak to his daughter Hinako—"

"I knew it!" yelled Green Jacket and grabbed Emiya by the lapels of his jacket. Only the lawyer's quick shake of the head in Rin's direction lowered her fist as the other man roared. "Come to get favours from her, yeah?"

The crowd erupted into angry muttering and jeers, though thankfully there were no further projectiles. Entirely calm, as if he hadn't just heard a half dozen people threaten to gut him like a fish, Emiya slowly but firmly pulled the man's hands off him.

"Not at all," he said. "But I understand why you're wary of me. I'm glad that Itou-san has people like you in her corner." He nodded towards the door. "If you let go, we can head inside and talk things over."

Green Jacket hesitated, torn between his fury and the renewed grief crumpling his face. "Not a chance," he growled at last, and Rin's fingers twitched anew. "You fuckers always talk a good game, but—"

"That's enough, Kaitou!" an older man's voice rang out from the crowd.

While the people had parted reluctantly to let Green Jacket—Kaitou, she mentally amended—through earlier, they looked almost relieved now as they shuffled aside to let the man through. His shoulders were narrow and rather frail-looking under his patched coat, his hair silvered with age, but there was a quiet assurance in his stance as he looked over both men in turn.

"Lashing out blindly at these people won't help," said the man sternly, though his eyes softened as they settled on Kaitou. "Let's at least hear what he has to say."

Kaitou's mouth twisted as the two stared at each other. Then he took a deep breath and reluctantly stepped away. The older man favoured him with a kind smile before looking expectantly at Emiya.

The lawyer let out a relieved breath. "Thank you. I came here today to check up on Itou-san's health." He looked a bit reluctant to disclose such personal information, but pressed on. "I promised her father I would bring her to the hospital if she looked unwell."

The crowd muttered among each other before a wave of the man's arm silenced them.

"That's kind of you," he said, "But Hinako-chan and her father are not citizens, and thus not covered by insurance. Educated as you are, I am sure you know that hospital fees are expensive when paid out of pocket."

Rin resisted the urge to bite her lip. A number of the fake priest's visitors had occasionally complained as much, but they always had the funds to pay anyway. For people who fell through the cracks without such funds…

"I'll pay for the fees," Emiya said resolutely. "Please tell me where she is. If what Itou-san said is true, then her condition—"

"She's dead!" snapped Green Jacket, then squeezed his eyes shut before continuing in a lower trembling voice. "F-fuck your fees, you bastard… she's gone, and I didn't…" He knocked away the comforting hand an older woman tried to put on his shoulder. "Where the hell were you last month, asshole? When it s-still would have mattered? Fuck you!"

Shakily he spat on the pavement in front of a stunned Emiya, then let himself be pulled away. He didn't even spare a glance at Rin as the woman awkwardly wrapped an arm over his shoulder and led him over the pavement. His broken wail echoed over the silent crowd.

"Dead? But that's not… that's…" said Emiya, blinking furiously.

"I apologize for Kaitou's outburst," said the older man after a moment. "He was her sweetheart, you see." He gave a deep sigh, then straightened as he turned to face Emiya. "Hinako-chan died last week."

Rin felt her heart lodge in her throat. When she glanced at Emiya, the man looked positively stricken.

"But Itou-san said…" he began haltingly.

"Nobody's gotten the chance to tell Daisuke yet, because the police won't let us in to see him," said the man with a tight-lipped smile. "Not even a phone call."

Emiya soundlessly moved his lips for a few moments, before he buried his face in his hands, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, "I…"

"It has nothing to do with you, young man." The other's face was stern as he spread his hands. "Hinako-chan was sick for years, and her medicine was expensive. More than Daisuke could afford. Eventually the bills added up and he got desperate. He stole things to get quick cash." The man shook his head. "Too many things. Of course he got caught."

He eyed Emiya critically. "The first time, some lawyer took him on pro bono. But they never believed Daisuke was doing it for his girl, so they didn't try very hard. Daisuke went to jail, and that made things worse for Hina-chan. She took on…" the man grimaced, "odd jobs, that sort of thing. More strain on her poor body."

Rin's stomach lurched uncomfortably as the man spoke. She wasn't the sentimental type, but she knew all about watching a loved one waste away and being powerless to stop it. From the pallor in Emiya's face, she guessed she wasn't the only one.

"Each time Daisuke got released, he'd put her back in bed and start stealing again, twice as desperate. Each time he got caught, his sentence got longer. This…" the man's sigh carried over the hushed crowd. "This was inevitable. But…"

Emiya's eyes widened when the older man gave him a stiff bow, small but deliberate. "You took the time to come down and check on Hina-chan. That means a lot, even now."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared back into the crowd. As if released from a spell, it burst into a low roar as dozens of conversations overlapped. Still, more than a few glances turned their way, not all of them friendly. Time to take their leave before something could happen to turn the situation sour again.

Rin approached Emiya and gingerly patted his shoulder. He looked at her with empty eyes.

"Let's go, Emiya," she said in a low voice, then sighed when he didn't move. "We're intruding on their grief. Best to leave them to mourn."

She had the feeling that would resonate with him more than a common sense appeal to intact limbs. Her intuition proved correct when he nodded glumly and followed her out of the slum, back into the asphalt tangle of streets.

They walked silently for a little while, shoulders drawn in and gazes trailing on the ground. Then Emiya abruptly stopped and looked at her.

"Why were you there, Tohsaka?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Ahaha!" she laughed stiffly. "I'm not familiar with this part of town, so I might have gotten a bit lost—"

His stare made it clear that he didn't believe her.

"—alright, yes. I saw you on the bus, and I decided to follow you." She crossed her arms and huffed. "Y—you can't blame me! Most lawyers spend all day in their offices, not running off to the worst parts of town. Of course I got curious."

"More like you were thinking something weird," he said, his lips twitching upwards.

"I wasn't!" she said, her cheeks reddening in outrage. "Hmph! Only someone who's weird themselves would think that…"

"If you say so," said Emiya, then pulled out his phone. When she glanced over his shoulder, she saw bus schedules displayed on the screen.

"I'm going to the police station," he said. "They've still got Itou-san in temporary custody before his trial date." He swallowed heavily. "I need to tell him."

He looked away, but she could see the misery written all over his face. Idiot, to get so broken up about something so out of his control, a tragedy years in the making. The magus in her sneered at so much wasted energy, when he should be focusing on his next case instead.

But her treacherous heart went out to him.

"Tch. Emiya, wait! I'll go with you," she said, brushing against his shoulder as she moved to his side.

"Tohsaka…?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"I've already gotten tangled up in this mess, thanks to you. And a Tohsaka always sees things through." It had come out a little more sharply than she'd intended it. Too sharply, from the way his brows crinkled. She hesitated, then gave up and added in a softer tone, "And you look like you could really use the company."

"I… yeah," he relented, to her mild surprise. "I think I could."

Rin waited outside the station while Emiya met with his client, seated on a bench with her pockets stuffed in her coat pockets. She always travelled with a book on her longer expeditions into the city, but today it sat untouched in her bag. There was too much to think about.

When Emiya emerged an half hour later, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world along with the envelope gripped in his hand.

"Emiya?" she asked tentatively. "How did it go?"

"Not well," he grimaced, shoulders trembling. "Itou-san… he lost his daughter, after everything he did for her. There wasn't much I could say to help."

"I'm sorry," she said, and received a wan smile in return. After a while, curiosity overpowered manners and she gestured towards the envelope. "What's that?"

"Ah. A map of where he hid the money he managed to scrape together over the years." Rin hated the way her brain instinctively caught on the operative word. "Itou-san said that he… he didn't need it anymore. That I should just take it." Emiya shook his head. "I need to find out who's handling Hinako-san's funeral arrangements. Hopefully this can help a bit."

Rin nodded as she fell into step beside him, walking along to their mutual bus stop. Gradually Emiya stood a little straighter, and she felt the mood begin to lift. Not enough, judging from the stiff set of his jaw. She internally debated for a moment, then leaned forward to catch his eye.

"Well, I didn't expect our second outing to be like this," she said with a small smile.

Emiya looked a little sheepish even as he scowled. "Hey, I told you I was busy with work. You're the one who snuck along—"

"I didn't say I hated it," she interrupted, then grinned when he gaped at her. "You're a good man, Shirou."

Rin knew she would treasure the memory of his reddening face that night. Even if teasing him couldn't wipe away the grim events of the day, the distraction did relax his brow a fraction.

That didn't stop doubt from gripping her chest as she waved him off, watching with conflicted eyes as the bus pulled away from the curb. A good man, huh. That's why I should forget about him. Because by the standards of the mundane world, I'm rotten to the core.

She wrapped her coat a little more tightly around herself. It's not like I… okay, fine, I wouldn't mind going on a date with him. We might even hit it off for a little while. Her fists clenched at her sides. But it could never get serious. I'd have to tell him about my magecraft, the Moonlit World… it wouldn't work out.

That should have been the end of it. She told herself it would be, burying her nose in her book on the ride home to distract herself from the ache in her heart.

Two days later, she reluctantly rose from her bed, longing for the sweet embrace of the covers, to find a light blinking on her phone. Bleary-eyed, she tugged it over and struggled for a bit with the damnable password system. There weren't many people who still called Rin, but she could think of a few possibilities. El-Melloi the Second requesting assistance with some difficult bit of research, maybe, or Sakura about the white sage she'd ordered.

Her heart skipped a beat when she read the message.

"Sorry for the trouble this weekend. Can we reschedule to this Saturday?"

Their worlds were just too different. It couldn't work out, for a myriad of reasons.

I really am selfish, smiled Rin as she tapped out 'It's a date!'. The absolute worst. Because I want to try anyway.

Chapter Text

It never failed.

Every evening, Emiya would still be hard at work when Makami left the office. He'd still be tapping at the old Fujitsu computer; surrounded by stacks of books and documents, organized clutter only the kid could make sense of.

And every morning at seven-thirty, when the morning traffic just began to buzz, the senior lawyer would walk in to find the kid exactly where he'd left him. Of course he probably went home to snatch a few hours' rest. A human had to live, unlike the machine the kid strived to be. But damned if it wasn't easy to imagine otherwise, when Makami never saw his office without Emiya in it.

Today was no different. When Makami had shaken the rain off his umbrella and stepped through the door, he found Emiya already buried in a file. Bags under his eyes, neck stiff from too many hours bent over a desk, but full of a steely resolve as he reached for another document. The older man knew the look all too well. He had worn it himself for years on end, back when justice had still been a passion rather than a faded dream.

The kid was so absorbed he hadn't even noticed someone come in. Resisting the urge to snort, Makami hung up his coat and headed into the cramped kitchen. There was already a pot ready under the coffee maker. He shook it around a bit. It looked old, the surface murky and unappetizing. How long had the kid been here, anyway?

Fuck it, Makami was making a new pot. Cash might have been tight since his semi-retirement, but decent coffee was a basic right.

While his hands busied themselves pouring water and spooning fresh grounds into the filter, he let his mind wander to the two young attorneys he'd taken under his wing. For all that Matou could be a mouthy brat, he was shaping up pretty well. He worked a heavy but sane schedule, and left a clear desk when he went home every night.

But Emiya… Emiya worried him.

When the redhead had shown up on his doorstep, Makami had taken him for another wide-eyed boy ready to eat principles rather than dinner. Jaded as he had become after what he privately termed the Disaster, the veteran lawyer had still seen an echo of himself in that earnest face. That echo had made him take on young Emiya when no one else would, even though he had promised himself he was done with apprentices or any kind of serious practice.

A hiss of heated water cut through the air. Brown liquid slowly dripped into the pot below. Makami distantly watched the droplets fall as things kept turning over in his head.

There hadn't seemed to be too much cause for concern, at the beginning. The kid worked hard and mostly kept his nose clean. The odd times he did bend some rules, it was always on behalf of his clients, because Emiya very much wanted to see them happy. He didn't seem to care so much about how many cases he finished, so long as those cases finished with a smiling face. And if it gave Makami the vague but uneasy feeling that Emiya was using that to… fill himself up somehow, like an addict drowning out the emptiness inside, maybe that was okay.

But recently, there was a shift in the way that Emiya handled his cases. He was taking on more and more cases, as if he couldn't stand to leave a single person behind. With each folder slapped down on his desk, it became less about each individual, and more about the overall number.

That wasn't a good way to do things. Makami knew. He had done that himself for a while, drunk on the number of cases solved or bargains struck. So concerned with doing things efficiently that he forgot to ask himself what was actually best for his clients.

Best case scenario, the kid burns out within the year, maybe a few if he's really stubborn. Drop out of the profession entirely and push papers as a clerk somewhere. The last few drops dribbled into the pot and made the surface ripple. Worst case scenario… he'll become a monster. Focused on proving his client's case at all costs, and damn the collateral damage.

The coffee steamed when Makami poured it into two chipped mugs and carried it over towards the main room. Caffeine seemed to flow into his veins from the aroma alone. Good. It was exactly what he needed for the difficult conversation he needed to have with Emiya.

It had to be approached with caution. The boy felt like a glass vase—precious, but easily breakable if nudged the wrong way. So Makami used a light touch while training him. He gave advice and set him up with contacts and resources, but resisted the urge to dictate how and when to take cases.

That mostly worked until the vase decided to go and knock itself over. Now he had to rush forward and catch Emiya, but carefully enough not to damage him. Shit.

The lawyer cleared his throat. Softly at first, then pointedly when that failed to catch his target's attention. "There isn't even enough space on your desk for a goddamn mug, Emiya."

Emiya's head jerked up from his reading. "Makami-san! I didn't hear you come in."

Makami snorted. "I think Gojira himself could trample through and you wouldn't notice him." The drawn look on the other's face made him scowl. "How many cups have you already had?"

Impossible to tell, since the kid cleaned and put away dishes as soon as they were used. Not that it mattered, when Emiya's flinch said it all.

"Two, but—

"What the fuck. Have another one."

Makami carelessly picked a book off the kid's desk and threw it on Matou's pristine one, then firmly set the mug down in the newly freed space. The redhead opened his mouth to protest, only to have it turn into a yawn. A bit of smugness softened Makami's brow when the boy surrendered and took a long sip.

A victory, however small. There was a temptation to leave it at that, but Makami steeled himself. That would be failing both Emiya and his own tattered sense of responsibility.

So instead of proceeding to his own desk as he usually would, he leaned forward and caught the kid's questioning gaze. "You need to start clearing cases before taking on new ones, Emiya. Not just stacking more until you're up to your nose in them. Take a page from Matou. He doesn't bite off more than he can chew."

"Sorry, Makami-san." The usual bland smile flashed across Emiya's face, more a courtesy than a true display of emotion. "I know, and I'll close Ito-san's file and get started on the Kaidou case tomorrow. But I can't file the report until I've finished expanding it. We need all the details in there to get Ito-san a good plea bargain."

"Even if the man himself doesn't care?" There was a subtle but deliberate challenge in the senior lawyer's words.

"That doesn't matter. If there's anything I can do to help him, then I will."

Such simple words, but they could lock around a man as tightly as iron shackles. From anyone else, Makami might have dismissed them as simple exaggeration. But Emiya meant them, even if it meant countless hours labouring without gratitude or recompense. The glint in his eyes spoke louder than any declaration.

Not for the first time, Makami found himself wondering what had hollowed the kid out and left him determined to break himself in service to others. Gentle prodding, followed by more direct questioning, had failed to drag anything meaningful from Emiya on the subject. He would smile reassuringly and say he understood his boss' concerns. Sometimes he'd even go home earlier that night. But without fail he'd be back the next day at the crack of dawn.

Makami bit his lip as he took in the curiosity spreading over Emiya's face. Enough stalling. It's not going to get any easier if you delay.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as Makami pulled it over and took a seat directly across from his junior. To Emiya's credit, he did not shy away from the steel-blue eyes considering him.

Here goes. Let's hope the glass doesn't shatter when prodded.

Makami lifted his chin. "About Saturday. When you went to Itou's house."

"Yes?" The muscles tensed around the kid's mouth as he sat up straighter in his chair. "Look, I know it was a bit of a long trip, but—"

The senior lawyer waved a hand to silence him. "You did well," he said.

Instantly Emiya's expression relaxed and a hint of red bloomed at the tips of his ears. The kid was easy to fluster with honest praise, and Makami never gave any where it wasn't deserved. Still, it was perspective rather than pride that he needed Emiya to take away from this conversation. With that in mind, he fixed him with a level stare as he continued.

"It's important to remember that our clients aren't just names and facts on a page. They're people, as we are—" he paused meaningfully on the last words, and was disappointed but not surprised to see they sailed clear over the other's head, "—and people always have a reason behind their actions. You can't hope to do right by your clients unless you understand them as people. Tell me, Emiya. What did Itou really want?"

Shirou sucked in a harsh breath. "He wanted his daughter to be healthy."

"That's right." Makami inclined his head. "Not to be declared innocent, or get a good plea bargain. You knew that because you took the time to listen to him. To understand him as a human."

The kid opened his mouth to say something, but Makami cut him off.

"Listen, Emiya. Only a human can understand other humans. Their hopes and fears. The things they want, even if they don't say them out loud. That's why lawyers can't be machines. They must be humans." He nodded towards the coffee cooling on the desk. "And humans need rest, comfort, and joy to keep going. Keep denying yourself those things for too long, or value one over the others, and you'll burn yourself of your humanity."

Emiya looked momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening. Then he pinched his lips. "I appreciate the concern, Makami-san. But you don't need to worry. I can handle myself."

There was very little humour in Makami's bark of laughter. "Yeah? When was the last time you took time for yourself?"

"There was a reunion for—"

"Matou practically had to drag you there kicking and screaming."

"That's an exaggeration!" said Emiya, a hint of petulance in his downturned mouth. "And I hung out with a friend the week after!"

"Yeah? Maybe there's some hope for you after all."

Makami leaned back and studied him. It was doubtful that the kid was lying about that. While he had a better poker face than people expected of him, he rarely deployed it in his own defense.

"You got any other plans coming up?" he asked.

"Uh." The redhead scratched his cheek. "Actually, I was supposed to see that friend again this last weekend, but I ended up going to Itou's—"

"Good. Then you can do it this weekend instead," interrupted Makami in a tone that brooked no argument.

From anyone but Emiya, goddamn it. A normal person would be delighted to have their boss' sanction to take time off, but instead he looked conflicted.

"I really should do some more research before Nakamura-san's court date, though," he said, biting the inside of his cheek. "Maybe I can—"

"Not maybe. Take a damn break already, Emiya," said Makami firmly. "If I see hide or hair of you here on Saturday, I'm going to fire you."

A little smile touched the other's lips. "Oh? Does this mean Sunday is okay—"

The stacked files muffled the impact of Makami's fist banging on the desk. "Don't get cheeky with me!" he rumbled. "You're going to take a break even if it kills you."

"Alright, alright!" said Emiya, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll text her at lunch and see if she'll reschedule."

Text "her"? A slow smile spread over Makami's face. Hah, I might have known. Even Emiya is weak to a pretty face.

Not that he could blame the kid. His own dear Yuna had been quite the looker in her youth. One of the only things that could pull him from his books. Just a snap of her fingers and he would come running. Still would nowadays, and that woman knew it too, hah. But her warm smile made it all worth it.

A shuffle from the other chair reminded Makami that he wasn't alone. Reluctantly he dismissed the image of Yuna bustling in the kitchen in favour of focusing on his apprentice. Sweeping his gaze over Emiya, he noted to his disappointment that the other showed neither a fluster nor the smirk that Matou wore whenever he had a hot date. Still, the redhead's brows had relaxed a bit, and a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

It'll do.

"Why wait?" he asked, snapping Emiya's gaze back to him. "Text her right now."

"Hey, this is my personal life, you know?" The kid looked a bit irked, but reached for his phone anyway. "Besides, she rarely answers before ten."

Makami only folded his arms and watched intently while Emiya punched in a message.

"Good," he said once the kid had finished, perhaps a little more fiercely than the situation merited.

He really shouldn't be getting so invested in this situation, but fuck it. Knowing that Emiya had some shreds of a social life had lifted such a weight from his shoulders that he felt positively giddy. That and thinking of Yuna always put him in a sunny mood, even if she'd hate what he was about to do.

Before he could reconsider, Makami strode over and unlocked the special cabinet above his desk. The glass of the bottle's neck felt pleasantly cool against his hand as he pulled it out. Puffing his chest out, he placed the wine down in front of Emiya's blinking face.

"Here, share this with your lady friend." He winked conspiratorially. "Consider it a little bonus for finally being reasonable."

The sudden twitch of Emiya's fingers, even more than the red flaring anew in the boy's ears, made Makami want to burst out laughing. Definitely worth giving up the Gato Negro, just for the look on his face.

"I can't bring that!" the redhead protested as he pushed the bottle back towards his senior. "She'll be absolutely insufferable. I can hear her now." He closed his eyes and pitched his voice higher and sharper. "'Ahahaha! You've really fallen for my charms, haven't you Emiya?' It'll be like the cafe all over again."

It took all of Makami's experience as a courtroom attorney to keep a straight face while the other grumbled. Emiya occasionally got annoyed for his clients, but seeing him rankled on his own behalf was refreshing.

"You've got strange tastes in women," he said with an exaggerated shake of his head.

"It's not—" started Emiya, before snapping his mouth closed. Sullenly he looked down at his desk, his gaze darting this way and that until it settled on the bottle. "Look, Makami-san…" he sighed. "It's a nice gesture, but… I haven't earned it."

"And I say you have. You contradicting your boss, kid?" gruffed Makami, then sighed when Emiya held his gaze. It figured that he wouldn't flinch from the threat, even though Makami was the only lawyer in town stupid enough to take on an apprentice that preferred pro bono to billable hours. There really was too much steel in that boy for his own good.

How to make him accept it anyway? Knowing what he knew of Emiya… a weight settled on his heart even as he opened his mouth.

"If you won't take it for your own sake, then take it for hers."

Emiya's brow furrowed only for a moment before he surrendered and swept the wine into his bag. The senior lawyer suppressed another sigh as his earlier relief dried up like spit on a hot pan. Clearly there was still a long way to go with this one.

"Okay," said Emiya eventually, exhaling as he leaned back in his chair. "But she'll get the wrong idea."

Makami gave him a tired smile. "Is it the wrong idea?"

"Uh." The other rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't… we haven't talked about it."

"Well, think about it, kid. Doesn't have to be this one. But make sure you end up with someone to come home to." Ignoring the redhead's furrowing brow, Makami slumped over to his own desk and threw his briefcase down.

Because part of being human is that sooner or later, you're going to screw up big time. You're going to trip something up and an innocent man will go to jail. Or unknowingly let a shady one out on the street, and blame yourself when he goes and hurts someone. He sipped his own coffee and made a face when he found it lukewarm. And when that happens, you're going to need someone to catch you. All humans do. If I hadn't had Yuna and the kids after the Disaster, then….

Shaking his head, he popped open the filing cabinet and started the paperwork for a new file. There was nothing more to do for Emiya at the moment. If he wasn't going to take the advice, ten more minutes of lecturing wouldn't change that. Anyway, there was his friend Inui's brat of a son to worry about.

Still, Makami would have felt vindicated if he'd seen the text that buzzed the kid's phone later that morning.

"It's a date!"

The banks of the Mion river had always been a favourite gathering spot for Fuyuki's residents, with its red brick paths flowing between islands of soft green grass. The day was a little overcast, the sky dappled gray with clouds. It was a marked contrast to the widening blue of Tohsaka's eyes as she read the bottle's label.

"Shirou, do you know what this is?" she asked in a low voice.

The embarrassment creeping up his neck had him twisting his fingers in the grass at the blanket's edge. "Of course I do," he muttered. "I brought it, didn't I?"

"A 1982 Gato Negro," she breathed, before looking up at him. "It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but this is the kind of thing you'd order at a fine restaurant." An amused smile danced on her lips. "This is just a picnic, you know?"

"Don't blame me," he said. "When I told my boss that I was taking the day off to see a friend, he pushed it on me."

She turned away from him towards the churning blue water, but not before he had spotted the flash of disappointment in her eyes. Shirou felt his ears grow warm as he glanced towards the black curtain of her hair, then back to the bag in front of him.

Maybe Makami-san was on to something, after all. He fidgeted with the bag's buckle as he tried to decide how he felt about the idea. She did call it a date in her text… I thought she was just teasing me again, but maybe…

Before he could think much more about it, there was a rustle of movement on the blanket. He glanced up to find that Tohsaka was smiling at him again. She tapped her hand on the bottle and arched an eyebrow.

"Do all lawyers give out these kinds of perks to their juniors? Ahh, I picked the wrong profession," she said with a plaintive sigh.

His brows creased in annoyance. Had he been misreading her entirely? Sometimes it was so hard to tell what this woman was thinking.

"You don't have to believe me," he grumbled.

"No, no, I believe you." She airily waved a hand, then touched it to her mouth as the smile sharpened into a smirk. "After all, you're a terrible liar. I'll never understand how you manage as a lawyer."

Shirou shrugged, looking up at the clouds while she giggled beside him. He could tell her that she had misunderstood his work entirely. Law was about uncovering the truth of a situation and making the best of it, not lying or scoring points. But he already knew she would chide him for being hopelessly naive, and he wasn't in the mood to hand her more ammunition. The wine was already embarrassing enough.

Instead, he arched an eyebrow at her. "I take it you'rean expert liar, Tohsaka?"

"But of course!" she said cheerfully, waggling a finger at him. "It's a must in my line of work."

Saying that like it's a talent to be proud of. She really is a demon. But the sparkle in her eye and her relaxed posture made him smile. Even if it wasn't quite the Tohsaka he remembered from school, it was closer than the frayed woman he'd met at the reunion.

Then her words caught up with him, and he frowned. "I thought you worked in estates. Don't you need a reputation for honesty? I mean, to attract clients…"

For a moment Tohsaka's face went blank and he could practically see the gears in her brain jitter to a halt. Then she lifted her nose up and huffed.

"Hmph! And what makes you think I'm not honest?"

"Haa? But you just said—"

"I'm always honest with my clients," she interrupted him. "But when it comes to negotiations, you can't afford to show all your cards. There are people who won't hesitate to squeeze out your last drop of blood if they know you want something they have."

Shirou reluctantly nodded, thinking of some of the prosecutors he'd met. "Yeah, I guess that's true…"

There was a touch of melancholy in the cast of Tohsaka's shoulders as she looked towards the river again. Estate planning was more cutthroat than Shirou realized if it could put a look like that on her face.

Unless she's involved in something shady. Just as Issei had always insisted throughout their school days and beyond. Shirou found himself thinking of the hollow look in Shinji's eyes the night of the reunion, when he'd given his cryptic warning.

"There is a darkness in that woman."

A small shiver ran down his spine despite the warmth of the sun filtering through the clouds. Studying criminal law had taught him many brands of human evil, addiction and embezzlement and worse. It was hard to imagine Tohsaka engaged in any of that, but it wasn't impossible.

He shifted to look at Tohsaka again. She pressed her lips together as she faced into the wind, her blue eyes fixed somewhere on the far shore. After watching her for a few heartbeats, he found himself smiling.

A bad person wouldn't look so troubled about it. Even if Shinji was correct and Tohsaka was struggling with something difficult, she had a good heart underneath it. Maybe Shirou could even help with whatever was bothering her, and more of that old spark would return to her eyes.

Tohsaka sighed as she turned back to him, then clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about." Her cheeks puffed in disapproval. "That smile on your face tells me you're thinking something stupid."

The redhead suppressed a groan. She might not be a bad person, but she could definitely be an aggravating one. "That's what I get for thinking something nice about you, even for a moment."

The faint blush of pink on Tohsaka's face appeared and vanished as quickly as a ripple in the river, but it made Shirou smirk in satisfaction. Her fist tightened in her lap, and for a moment he thought she might hit him. Then she burst into laughter.

"I see, I see. It's good that you're not a complete pushover," she said, though the teasing arch of her eyebrows took the sting out of her words. She resettled herself on the blanket, dropping her chin in her hands as she smiled at him. "But really, I'm curious. How did a guy like you end up a lawyer?"

The knife glinted silver under the streetlight as it came at him. Pain flared bright in his stomach.

A few steadying breaths helped push away the memory of his altercation with some of Fuyuki's rougher youth. It was easily banished compared to the red glow that haunted his dreams. Still, a quick glance at Tohsaka's troubled face loosened his tongue before she could worry more about him.

"It was Fuji-nee's idea, actually," he shrugged. "She pushed me pretty hard into it."

"Really?" asked Tohsaka as she reached for the tote bag she had brought for the picnic. "I thought she would push you into teaching or competitive archery, given her passion for them."

Shirou gave her a wry smile. "Don't think she didn't try that too, at first. But that's not where my path leads. I want to help people more directly than that."

I want to save them. The thought made something roil in his gut even as it brought a small smile

to his lips. It doesn't matter what happens to me, as long as I can save others. That's the only way I can atone for my sin.

The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils, as it so often did when he let his mind slip back to the Great Fire. The one he had unjustly survived while the others died.

Shirou took a deep breath, just as the therapist had taught him, and the clean wind took the smoke away. Not for long, it never was before the shroud of guilt settled back over him, but for the moment breathing was a little easier.

If Tohsaka noticed something odd about his momentary silence, she didn't say anything. She was busy pouring tea from a thermos into two plastic cups.

"Still, why law?" she asked after a moment. "I always took you for the more physical type back in school."

"You're not wrong. My original goal was to become a cop." He offered a shrug in response to her arched eyebrow. "Fuji-nee used to really put me through my paces in the dojo. I wanted to put those skills to use for people."

He gratefully accepted a cup from her hands and took a sip. The subtle sweetness of jasmine tea was just what he needed to wash away the taste of ash lingering in his mouth, and let him relax again.

"So what happened? You don't seem the type to give up easily."

The asphalt was rough against his cheek where he'd collapsed against it. Distantly he could hear voices cursing above him, then the frantic sound of fleeing footsteps. Later, when he'd been on the cusp of blacking out, there had been sirens.

Shirou heaved a sigh. "I tried putting it into practice. It didn't end too well."

The expectant gaze levelled on him said that he wouldn't be able to escape with just that. Gritting his teeth a bit, he continued. "There used to be these delinquent gangs that hung out in old Miyama town. Some of those guys… well, they were pretty bad news."

It wasn't a surprise to see Tohsaka nod. She had grown up in Fuyuki too, even if she must have had a far more sheltered life as a rich girl.

"When they started bullying some of my classmates… well, I couldn't just turn a blind eye to that. So I rounded up some guys to help confront them. Make them stop, even if that meant using our fists."

Tohsaka's nose crinkled in disbelief. "You? Emiya Shirou, a gang leader?"

"Not like that!" he said with a frown. "It's just… sometimes force is the only way to make bullies stop."

Somehow he knew she wouldn't argue, even before she nodded at him to continue. The pained expression in her gaze when they'd briefly touched on her profession earlier said it all.

"One night, there was a big fight. Not too far from there, actually." He nodded towards the red bridge that clawed its way across the river. "Things got a little out of hand, and I ended up in the hospital for a bit."

There was no gasp from the woman beside him, only a tightening of her mouth. Another sip helped steady Shirou against the memory of white ceilings and disinfectant.

"Fuji-nee wouldn't let me outside after dark for weeks after that. And when I told her I was going to be a cop, she absolutely forbade it."

Yelled, before bursting into tears, about waiting outside the operating room while he was in surgery. About how she refused to turn on the television someday and hear about his death.

Even if Japan was a less violent society then some of the foreign countries Shirou had heard about, he couldn't deny there was a certain risk associated with being a cop. Or with joining the yakuza, as Raiga had seriously suggested to him over a cup of sake three months after he was walking again. Fuji-nee had none of her usual whimsy when she put her foot down, telling her grandfather that she would not allow Shirou to end up in that world.

Shirou rolled his shoulders and nodded at Tohsaka. "Law was a compromise we could all live with."

A way for Shirou to pursue his desire to help people without putting himself directly in the line of danger. Raiga had even paid for his education, pleased that Shirou would still be contributing to the 'family' when his men needed a defense. So far, nothing had come of that expectation. There might be trouble in the future if Raiga asked him to defend a guilty man, but Shirou would cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Did you reach your dream then, Shirou?" The words were spoken gently, but Tohsaka's eyes held an intensity that demanded an answer.

He sat back and tried to collect his thoughts. Sometimes he did wonder if he shouldn't have gone into policework after all, or some other profession that would let him pull people from immediate danger. It didn't feel right, sitting behind a desk while others risked their lives, no matter how many times Makami-san told him about the importance of his job. It never felt like enough.

Then he thought of Fuji-nee's tearful face when he'd woken up in the hospital bed, and the crushing grip of her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," he said at last.

The breeze tugged at his coat as silence descended between them, broken only by distant shouts and splashes from the water. Then Tohsaka abruptly stretched herself out and smiled at him.

"That's enough serious talk. It's a picnic, so let's eat!"

Grateful for the change of subject, Shirou cracked open the boxed lunch she handed him. The savoury aroma of Chinese gaifan hit his nostrils, stir-fried spicy pork with bok choy and scallions served over white rice. The grains were sweet and fluffy, while the peppercorn in the sauce added just the right amount of heat. He ate slowly despite his hunger, turning the food over in his mouth to appreciate the full range of flavours.

"This is good," he said after he'd devoured half his portion. "I wouldn't mind learning the recipe."

There was a vague blush on Tohsaka's cheeks as she daintily picked at her food. "Hmm. I suppose I could be persuaded, since you're enjoying it so much." She swallowed down a bit of pork, then grinned at him. "Be sure to serve me your best tea when I come over and show you."

"Sure, that sounds fine," he shrugged.

Instead of seeming pleased, Tohsaka shot him a look of affront. Unsure of what he'd done to merit that, Shirou contented himself with another drink of tea, then resolutely picked up his chopsticks again. He was quite sure he'd be hearing all about his mistake shortly, whenever the simmering volcano decided to erupt.

The glare trained on his chewing face suggested that eruption might be imminent. Then it smoothed out into a honeyed smile as she leaned towards him.

"Hold on, Shirou. You have a bit of rice right there," she said, pointing to her cheek.

"Hah? Thanks, I'll—"

Before he could check, soft fingers were brushing against his face. Heat blossomed across his nose as she drew closer, until she was only a hair's-breadth away.

"T-Tohsaka! What are you doing?" he stammered.

What the hell is this scene? It's like a manga rom-com!

But instead of picking off a stray grain, she pinched his cheek. "Just kidding," she smirked as she drew away and picked up her lunch again.

Now it was Shirou's turn to glare, rubbing the spot as the wasted adrenaline settled uncomfortably back into his veins. "Damn it. We aren't kids anymore, you know?"

"I can't help it!" she giggled. "You're such an easy target."

It was annoying to have someone laughing at his expense, but satisfaction swiftly drowned it out when she grinned at him. The spark was in the blue of her eyes, brighter than before. He could call today a success just for seeing it.

Still, a bit of retaliation was in order. Shirou gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess it's alright. You're cute when you're gloating."

Tohsaka nearly choked on her bok choy.

"S-Shirou! Idiot, don't just say things like that," she growled through her blush. Then the colour faded as she regained her composure and the haughty mask resettled. "You're lucky I'm a proper lady. Otherwise I'd definitely make you regret that."

The twitch of her fist told him that she might seriously be considering it anyway. Rather than threatening, she reminded him of the black cat he sometimes found lounging in his courtyard, the one that bristled at him before letting him scratch its head. It was all he could do not to laugh.

From the way her eyes narrowed, he wasn't holding it back very well.

Deciding to give her a break, he waved a hand. "Sure, sure. So what does this proper lady want to do next?"

"Hmm…" There was a challenge in her smile. "Why don't you impress me, Shirou?"

"You're asking me? I figured you'd have the whole day planned," he said.

"I did think about it, but there's such a thing as spontaneity too, you know?" She tossed her hair playfully over one shoulder. "Come on, you must have something in mind."

The wind ruffled the grass around Shirou's fingers as he thought about it. The weather was fine if a little cold, a perfect day for hiking up in the woods surrounding the Ryuudou Temple. It was peaceful there, among the whispering pines and birdsong.

Too peaceful for someone like Tohsaka, he thought with a rueful shake of his head. She'd get bored.

The impulse vanished like dew in the sun as Shirou reminded himself that he was here for Tohsaka, not for himself. His right to selfish joy had burned to ashes in that fire, alongside those that would never hope or dream again. The most he could ask for now was to share in the joy of others.

Shirou gave a little shrug. "I'm happy with whatever you want to do."

"Nothing at all, huh." Her eyes darkened. "This is for you too, you know. Just pick something you like, Shirou."

He combed through his mental map of Fuyuki, trying to think of an activity she might enjoy. "We could go to the aquarium, or maybe the movie theatre over in Shintou."

Blue eyes regarded him appraisingly for a long moment. It reminded him uncomfortably of the look Makami-san sometimes shot him from the office door when he stayed late on Friday evenings. Her lips twitched, and for a moment he expected a second lecture this week.

Then she nodded. "Alright. That's good enough for today."

Not exactly the enthusiastic reception he had been hoping for. Then again, it stood to reason that a pretty girl like Tohsaka had been on a lot of dates, let alone friendly outings (which was today? He forced away the awkward flutter in his heart). Probably she had been to both venues often enough to tire of them.

They were halfway through packing up the lunch boxes when Shirou mused aloud. "I'll ask Shinji for some recommendations next time. He always knows the best spots."

There was an audible crack, and he turned to see the plastic cup shattered in Tohsaka's hands. Whoa, he thought dazedly, she's a lot stronger than I th— then he saw her face and swallowed hard. She was looking at him as if he'd just suggested she eat an entire barrel of worms.

"Absolutely not," she growled. There was no trace of the playfulness that lightened her verbal spars with Shirou. "I want nothing to do with that man."

A twist of exasperation tightened around Shirou's spine. As much as he understood that Shinji and Tohsaka had their differences, he didn't appreciate hearing the girl he was maybe dating sneer about his best friend. His fellow attorney could be a bit ill-tempered behind closed doors, but for all his superior airs, there was nobody Shirou trusted more to pull him out of a jam. Whatever festered between these two, it was high time to drag it out into the light.

"Why are you so hostile to Shinji, anyway?" he asked. "I know he was a bit of an idiot back in school, but he's mellowed out since then."

Her brows tightened in real anger. "If you came here today just to plead Matou's case to me, you might as well go home right now." Frost dripped from every word.

Shirou flinched. As much as he wanted an answer, that really wasn't the impression he'd meant to convey. "No," he hurried to say, "I'm here because I want to be."

That mollified her a bit, although there was still a suspicious edge in the gaze she trained on him. "Good. I wouldn't want to put you out or anything," she said, not bothering to layer the sarcasm with her usual teasing note.

It was skating on thin ice—hell, thin ice with a shark lurking underneath, from the look she was giving him—but Shirou was nothing if not stubborn. He had to give it another try.

"I'm just curious," he said, turning so his body was squarely facing hers—an invitation for honest discussion. "I've been Shinji's friend for years, and he's done a lot for me. He's a good guy."

"No. He really isn't." Her face might have been carved from ice, it looked so forbidding in that moment.

An uncomfortable silence lapsed between the two of them, but he was encouraged when she didn't shift away. At last, her expression thawed into something almost apologetic.

"There are things you don't know, Shirou," she said quietly. "Sakura may have forgiven him, but I never will." The spark ebbed low in her eyes, darkening their blue until they were almost black.

The words dried up in Shirou's mouth at the sight. Tohsaka looked utterly serious, her mouth twisted in a pained grimace. Dread settled low in his belly. I don't understand. Shinji and Sakura aren't that close, but they seem like they get along when they see each other. Just what the hell happened?

The question must have shown on his face, for Tohsaka crossed her arms and glared at him. "And no, I won't say anything more. It's Sakura's story to tell, if she wants to."

Shirou lowered his head. "I.. all right. I understand."

"Good."

Tohsaka shoved the last box into her bag and tightened the strap with unnecessary vehemence. Brushing stray crumbs off the blanket and folding it up gave Shirou the opportunity to observe her from the corner of his eye. With each huff and grumble, the anger drained from her face and left sadness behind.

It was far too troublesome an expression. Shirou was no longer a boy, but he still wanted to see a world where nobody cried. His hands twitched with the need to do something.

After a moment of reflection, he snapped his fingers and smiled despite the sullen look she shot him. "Hey. Since you made all this food, I should treat you to dessert as a thank you."

She stared at him for a moment, then a small but cheerful smile spread across her face. "Hmm. I guess even you have good ideas sometimes, Shirou."

That was her version of an olive branch, and he found himself nodding in satisfaction. Good. She's willing to be pulled from her bad mood. He went to pick up his own bag when he saw the protruding neck of the wine bottle.

"Ah, we forgot about the wine after all that," he said apologetically.

Her hand waved dismissively in the air. "Don't worry about it. We'll crack it open next time, that's all."

Next time. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest as he followed her down the brick path, and he could feel a touch of red in his cheeks again. If he wanted to put a stop to… whatever this was… he had to speak up now. Gently but firmly tell her that while he appreciated her as a friend, he wasn't interested in anything more.

His mouth opened and shut a few times, but no sound came out. After a while, he let it stay closed.

Mercifully, Tohsaka seemed not to have noticed. She skipped a few steps ahead, then turned and grinned at him.

"So where are you taking me? It better be somewhere nice!"

Oh. Embarrassment warmed his neck again as he realized he hadn't thought that far. "Right. Then why don't we try, uh…"

In desperation he racked his brain for the sweet shops and cafes he always walked right by, preferring savoury flavours himself. She let him struggle for a bit, then gave a little sigh.

"There's a decent crepe place on the other side of the bridge. You're okay with that, right?"

The tone said it wasn't really a question, but Shirou didn't mind. Her uncharacteristic interrogation from earlier aside, insisting on having things her way was what made her Tohsaka. And it would make her happy.

It had been a good while since Shirou had stopped to admire the view from the bridge. The fading sunlight coloured the rippling surface of the water in pretty shades of orange and gold. The conversation ebbed and flowed as easily as the river below, Tohsaka seeming as eager as he was to leave the earlier unpleasantness behind.

The crepes ended up being delicious, as expected from one of Tohsaka's recommendations. At her insistence, they ended up splitting each of a strawberry crepe and a macaron-chocolate one. It was a bit embarrassing to be seen eating something so sugary, but having a woman by his side gave him an excuse.

Wiping the last of the sugar dust on a napkin, he pulled himself from his thoughts to find Tohsaka savouring a bite of strawberry and cream, her eyes half-closed while she murmured in appreciation. It was actually pretty cute, though he was sure she would spit fire if she caught him thinking such a thing.

Shirou sat back with a sigh of contentment, absently tracing the contours of his bag. The waters were still a bit muddied, but today definitely had shades of a date. It had been nice, even if he wasn't quite sure how he felt about dating Tohsaka.

True, she was pretty enough, as his buried hormones reminded him every time she grinned in his direction. And even if half their conversations consisted of deflecting her verbal jabs and riposting with his own, that… was actually fun. He enjoyed being able to freely tease someone, especially now that he rarely saw Fuji-nee.

On the other side, there was a reason that Shirou had stopped going on dates a while back, however much Shinji pushed him. He didn't really have time for them, not when he needed to claw himself up to where he could finally help people. Inevitably the girls ended up feeling short-changed and moved on, and Shirou told himself that he didn't have a right to date. Not if it ended up making others unhappy.

Though Tohsaka seemed willing to give it a shot anyway. On their way over the bridge, she had threatened to kill him if he cancelled without good reason, which seemed to imply she understood that it might be inevitable sometimes. Just so long as he made it up to her later.

The idea of there being a 'later', that someone would be waiting for him to finish up his work and join them, was surprisingly pleasant. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give things a try.

Abruptly, Shirou realized that he was happy. It was a faint bloom in his chest, a small trickle, but it warmed him all the same. The realization drove his old guilt and turned his gut sour. He could feel his mind racing to supply him with reasons why he didn't deserve this, why things wouldn't work out.

She'll find someone else sooner or later, someone that suits her better. A more exciting guy that has all the time in the world for her.

His fists buried themselves in his coat pockets.

It's better this way. Focus on your cases and the people who need you.

He glanced over at Tohsaka, who was balling the wax paper and looking for a trash can. The smile on her face seemed genuine, all the more so because she didn't seem to realize he was watching her.

She really does seem happy, though. He leaned back in his seat as he came to a decision. I can do this for a little while, if it helps put the spark back in her eye. Just until we go our separate ways.

"Hmmm, I wonder…" Tohsaka's voice drifted over to him. Pivoting in his seat, he saw her throw the ball directly into the mouth of a faraway recycling bin. Her little fist pump was out of place for a lady, but endearing.

Makami-san said I need to understand people before I can help them. I don't really know what Tohsaka needs to be happy again, but this does seem to be helping.

Hard as it was to believe, the evidence was there in the curve of her smile and the energy of her steps as she came back towards him.

And if she's happy with this, if she's enjoying this… then it's okay for me to enjoy it too. His shoulders relaxed as he let himself get comfortable on the bench. I guess Makami-san also said things about humans needing joy and comfort. And Shinji's always saying I'm going to burn out like an idiot. If spending time like this helps me be a better lawyer for my clients…

No. That would be using Tohsaka, and that wasn't okay. This could last only as long as it made her happy, and not a moment longer. His own desires had no place in it.

The sourness in his gut dissipated a bit, resettling into the uncomfortable but bearable weight he had carried for years. Shirou had accepted chipping away at himself, if it meant he could save another person. Spending time with Tohsaka, knowing it couldn't last… it was another type of scalpel, but it wasn't that different in principle.

"Am I boring you, Shirou?"

His gaze snapped up to find Tohsaka scowling down at him, hands on her hips. The kind of expression that just begged to be teased. Now that he had made up his mind about things, there was no reason to hold back.

"Of course not," he said in his best deadpan. "With a devil like you around, I can't afford to ever let my guard down."

That should have pleased her, but instead her expression flattened until it was unreadable. Shirou squared his shoulders, refusing to let it intimidate him.

"Did you still feel like a movie?" he asked.

Tohsaka looked at him a moment more, the crease of her eyebrows deepening. Then she straightened up with a sigh. "It's getting late. I think we should call it a night."

Blinking, Shirou looked towards the sliver of sun setting on the river. The enthusiasm Tohsaka had greeted him with that afternoon led him to think she was going to keep him out well after dark. But perhaps he had simply been reading selfishly into the situation.

It's good. You'll have time to stop by the office after all. Some of the chores around the house are overdue, too.

The thought didn't do much to dispel the disappointment he felt in his bones.

Things were quiet on their way to Tohsaka's house, after he had offered to walk her home and she had accepted. Although they still traded a few quips and observations, the mood was definitely dampened. Perhaps that was why the manor, shrouded behind walls and old trees, felt unwelcoming as they approached its wrought iron gates.

Tohsaka paused in front of the door. "Thanks for today, Shirou." Then she gave him her trademark smirk, apparently determined to see him off properly. "Obviously you want to do it again sometime. I suppose I could force myself."

The sudden tightening in his chest surprised him. He really didn't want tonight to end. Not just yet, even though he knew they would do this again soon. For a wild moment, he imagined grabbing her hand and hauling her down to the market district for a round of drinks so they could keep talking a little while longer.

He let it go. This isn't for you.

"That sounds fine. Have a good night, Tohsaka."

When the tumblers of her lock clicked into place with solid finality, he found himself staring at the closed door for several beats of his heart before turning for home. He thought about the tofu stir fry he had time to cook for the first time in weeks, the floors that he needed to sweep and polish, even the volume of Red Lion Requiem sitting untouched in his room.

Anything but the silent house that would greet him.

Chapter Text

"It's so frustrating! I always feel like I'm driving the whole thing, and he's just going through the motions." Rin's hold tightened on the watering can. "Like he doesn't care at all."

Sakura twined flowers into the wreath as her sister ranted, careful not to break the soft green stems.

Azaleas for patience, red carnations for admiration, violets for shyness…

Often blooms expressed the feelings that people found so hard to put into words. It was a shame that Neesan's pride wouldn't allow her to rely on them, or admit how badly she struggled with expressing softer emotions. Then again, Shirou was too guileless to see anything but greenery no matter how many bouquets were thrown at his door. Anything but the most blatant messages would be lost on him.

Sakura had learned that to her own detriment all those years ago.

"I'm happy with whatever you want to do.'" A most unladylike snort came from her sister. "I'd be happy to know he's actually into this."

The unspoken words 'into me' might as well have been screamed for the way they echoed in the greenhouse.

Closing up the flower shop could take Sakura several hours on bad days, when the orders and the cleaning piled up. An extra pair of hands was always welcome, and the work provided an excuse to tear Neesan away from her magecraft for a few hours. That had been difficult in the years immediately following her return from London, but more and more these days Rin took the bait when it was offered.

"Come on, Rin," said Ayako from the counter, where she had just finished counting out the receipts. "I find it really hard to believe he never suggests anything."

"Only if I put him on the spot." A sigh and a gurgle of water as the can was refilled. "And even then, I'm pretty sure he's tossing out stuff that he thinks I'd like, or that he's done on past dates. What he's expected to do. Not anything he's actually interested in."

"You know, a lot of women would enjoy that." Ayako tilted her head. "They're always complaining that their boyfriends won't make compromises for them."

"This isn't about compromises!" Rin snapped. "It's about knowing that I'm not… I don't know, wasting my time." Her shoulders slumped as she absently over-watered the lilies.

"You don't think he likes you," said Sakura carefully, setting the wreath aside to fully focus on her sibling.

The other woman shook her head. "It's not that. I'm fairly sure he does, that's what drives me crazy about it. Every time we go somewhere, he's stiff at first but gradually he starts having fun. He opens up and I feel like I'm actually making a connection." She bit her fingernail as she put the can away. "Then… I don't know. It's like as soon as he realizes it, the barrier slams down. I'm alone again, even if he's physically there."

Neesan's face suddenly paled. "Oh no," she groaned. "Sakura, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be complaining about this to you, of all people."

"It's okay," said Sakura with a half-shrug. "It's always nice to see Shirou, but I don't feel that way about him anymore."

Rin relaxed a little, though some tension lingered in her brow. "I guess he really is an idiot, if he was able to drive you away. You would have done anything for him back then."

Sakura inclined her head. "Yes. He was my only light during some of my darkest years." Ignoring her sibling's wince, she put the violets back on the high shelf. "But you can only wait so long before you move on."

Two years, in her case. After she had finally been freed from the worms in her body and the poison in her soul, she had thought herself ready to confess to her sun. To her despair, she had encountered the same thing that was now plaguing her sister. However often Senpai welcomed her with a smile, there was always that same nagging sense that she was being held at bay.

The trembling in her hand made Sakura grip the shelf to steady herself. Memories floated up of cooking in Senpai's kitchen, sharing laughter and eagerly waiting for a next step that never came…

The sting had faded years ago. But watching it happen again, even from a distance, made it sharp again. Then a shoulder brushed against hers, and Ayako's comforting presence was at her side. Sakura smiled and leaned into it, feeling her partner's warmth even through the cloth separating them.

A small cough made them both glance up. Neesan was trying to look stern despite the small flush in her cheeks and the brightening of her eyes.

Sakura gave her a completely unapologetic smile. "And I'm very happy where I ended up," she said, then interlocked her fingers with Ayako's and gave her hand a gentle but heartfelt squeeze.

Rin made a face. "You two are so sweet I think I'm going to be sick."

Ayako proudly placed a kiss on Sakura's knuckle, letting her lips linger provocatively on the skin, before beaming at her once-rival. "You're just jealous because you lost our bet. Years ago, no less."

"Disqualified!" said Neesan, wagging her finger. "That bet was about boyfriends, not girlfriends."

"Going to argue on technicalities? You're such a sore loser, Rin."

"Serves you right, if you're going to bring up our school days." A nostalgic smile spread across her face. "I was pretty competitive back then."

"You still are," sighed Ayako. "You've just coated it under ice."

Neesan crossed her arms."We aren't having this conversation again," she said, her voice taking on a hint of the old steel that Sakura despised, the steel that reminded her of another Tohsaka. "I'm the Second Owner of Fuyuki. I have too many responsibilities to play around anymore. I'll keep up my magecraft and the leylines, and eventually I'll marry someone with the right pedigree and pass things al—"

"You don't really mean that," interrupted Sakura, injecting a little sharpness into her tone.

It had the desired effect when Rin's face crumpled. "I don't know anymore." Wrapping her arms around herself, she slumped into a nearby chair. "By every magus standard, it's what I should do. Anything less means betraying all the trust that was placed in me. But after what I saw… no, what we all saw…"

There was no need to say anything more. The War had burned an indelible brand in all of their minds. A decade of violation and crushing misery had made Sakura think herself dead to all emotion until those crimson nights had taught her stark terror. Ayako had been thrown into the Moonlit World in a storm of blood and fire. And Neesan's eyes were ripped open to the monstrous truth of her inheritance.

That she might propose continuing on like before, raising an heir in the magus tradition as if the War had never happened… as if Zouken had never happened… it made Sakura want to scream.

The only saving grace was that Rin seemed to be having serious doubts, too. Maybe even inclined to give up the cold duty of a magus in favour of living like a human, if her interest in Shirou was an honest one. But Sakura wasn't willing to take that on faith. Even if she loved her sister (fitfully and awkwardly), even if she had no intentions towards him anymore, she wouldn't stand by and let Neesan hurt someone as fundamentally good as Shirou.

She cleared her throat and gave her sibling a pointed stare. "Answer me honestly for once, Neesan. Are you serious about Shirou?"

Rin's gaze fell to her hands, curled on the vinyl of the countertop. "I want to be," she said quietly. "But I can't. Not when he keeps holding himself back like that." Her fingers tightened. "I've learned my lesson about reaching for things I can't have."

"Don't take it personally," said Ayako with a sigh. "Emiya is broken. Has been for years. Even back in school, he'd drop everything as soon as someone mentioned they needed help. Do you know why, Rin?"

"To make people like him, I guess," said Neesan, although she sounded unconvinced. "It definitely wasn't for advancement."

"No," said Sakura firmly. "Senpai—Shirou never cared if people thanked him or not. He just places everyone's needs over his own. Because he doesn't value himself." She would have wrung her hands if Ayako had not still been holding onto one. "He had so much trouble believing anyone would want to come help him. I practically had to force my way through his door, the first few times."

Rin chewed her lip as she mulled that over. "It can't be that bad. Nobody could live like that."

"Have you ever seen him laugh?" challenged Ayako. "I don't mean smiling or cracking a joke. I mean an honest belly laugh."

The fingers on the counter tightened more, until they were practically claws. "No," muttered Neesan, sounding almost offended.

"No one has. Not even Taiga, and she looked after him for years." Ayako shook her head. "She stayed single just so she could keep an eye on him, that's how much he worried her."

"But El-Melloi—"

"It's like I said earlier," interjected Sakura. "People can only put their lives on hold for so long. She still checks in every week, of course. And Makami-san does his best."

Rin's fingers tapped angrily on the counter. "That… that can't be healthy," she muttered to herself. "I think I already know the answer, but is he in therapy?"

Ayako's mouth tightened. "Taiga sent him for a little while, when things didn't get better after high school. I think he mostly went to please her," she snorted. "Everything's confidential, so who knows what they talked about. All that changed is that he got better at smiling to try and make people stop worrying about him."

Rin snorted. "Doesn't seem like it worked very well."

"Not on the people who know him," said Sakura, then looked her straight in the eye. "Or try to, anyway."

Message received loud and clear, from the way Neesan winced. Sakura felt a small rush of vindictive satisfaction. For all her complaints about Shirou's behaviour over the last few weeks, Rin had not considered what might push him to act in such a self-effacing manner. She had been too caught up in what she wanted from the man.

A familiar sentiment, one that made Sakura wince in turn. Back in her days haunting Shirou's doorstep, she had spent hours longing for her sun to pull her close and warm her. When it became clear he couldn't or wouldn't see her in that light, she had blamed herself as tainted and broken. It had taken her years healing from her own trauma before she could really consider what nightmare might have left its scars on Shirou. And for all that she knew he would forgive her in a heartbeat, she had trouble forgiving herself. It was easy to transfer some of that gnawing guilt onto her haughty sister, watching her make a similar mistake.

Another silence filled the room as Rin stared into the distance, seemingly digesting everything she had just learned. Leaving her to it, Sakura did a final check of the locks while Ayako closed the till for the night. When they returned, the woman was rubbing wearily at her forehead. She frowned when she saw them approach.

"Alright," she said tiredly. "So Emiya's just generally screwed up, rather than screwed up in particular to me. That doesn't change anything. No, if anything it confirms that I should break it off."

Sakura felt her stomach drop. Even if she held some reservations, she had hoped things might somehow work out for the two most impossible people in her life. A marked change from her old self, who would have rejoiced to see her perfect sister stumble and fall. But Sakura herself was in a happier place now, and Neesan's star long since tarnished.

What could she say to steer things back on track? Should she even want to? The words were still tripping themselves up in her mouth when Ayako gave a dramatic shrug beside her.

"You know what? You're absolutely right, Rin," she said in a careless tone that immediately had the other woman's hackles up. "We should be satisfied with what life hands us. Go ahead and choose one of your official suitors—"

"Wait, how do you even kn—tch, damn that tiger!"

Ayako continued as if she hadn't said a word. "—and consign yourself to forty years of misery waking up next to a guy you can't stand, raising a kid to carry on something you don't believe in anymore." It was her turn to cross her arms. "Or maybe you can just stay an old maid forever. I'm sure you'll have no regrets about that."

Rin's face had gone quite pale, her brows twitching in fury. "That's quite enough—!"

"Emiya will be just fine too," said Ayako relentlessly, amber eyes gleaming. "Bury himself in cases and subside on take-out, always burning himself to keep others warm, until he keels over of a heart attack at forty—"

Two fists slammed into the counter. "The hell he will!" snarled Rin as she jerked to her feet. "I'm going to punch through to that idiot, if it's the last thing I do!" Hurriedly she grabbed her bag, then tried to regain her composure, with limited success. "Sorry, Sakura. I just remembered I have some things I need to do this evening."

Sakura nodded. "That's alright, Neesan. I'll just add the missed hours to your tab."

Rin's lips quirked upwards for a moment, then anger took hold of her again as she marched towards the exit. The door banged shut with enough force to shake the frame.

Sakura sighed, then turned to see Ayako looking out the window with an aggravated frown.

"Those idiots," said her partner. "They make me want to pull my hair out sometimes."

"At least you know how to push Neesan's buttons," laughed Sakura, although there was a touch of sorrow there, too.

Eight years after the War and all its changes, the undeniable fact was that Ayako understood her sister better than Sakura did. She and Neesan tried, they really did, but ten years of estrangement and complicated feelings had left their mark.

An angry huff broke her thoughts. She turned to see Ayako wrinkling her nose. "That woman is absolutely impossible. She already knows she wants to be a human more than a magus, but she's too proud to let go of it by herself. Then she goes and brushes off everything we tell her."

Sakura couldn't help but give a wry smile. "Just like Shirou brushes off all the advice everyone gives him."

"Exactly." Ayako sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. "Fine. I can see I'm going to have to intervene here, or these two idiots are going to dance around each other forever." She took a deep breath before grinning at Sakura. "I may need to rile Rin up a bit more later. For now, let's have a talk with that stupid, stupid man."

They grabbed their coats and stepped out into the street, already shadowed by nightfall. The key scraped in the lock as Sakura pushed it home, then dropped it carefully into her purse. The light ahead was just turning red when she turned and gave Ayako a look.

"You never stepped in on my behalf with Shirou," she said with a touch of reproach.

Ayako gave an awkward shrug. "I kind of wanted him for myself back then, yeah?" Sakura's giggle made her smile ruefully. "And by the time I got over that... Well, by then I had selfish reasons not to help that connection along."

Fingers snuck around Sakura's own and squeezed them tight, making her hum with delight. Despite the chilling wind and their warm pockets, it was a long time before they let go again.

The blue scarf caught Shirou's eye as he ambled by the store window. He wasn't usually interested in clothes, but it was easy to imagine it draped on Tohsaka's shoulders instead of the mannequin. It looked like soft wool, the kind that would fray a little in the washing machine, but afterwards hold up to years of use. Not her usual style, in either texture or colour, but it would look nice on her.

Not that Shirou would consider himself an expert or anything, but he liked to think he was starting to understand the woman who had unexpectedly inserted herself into his life. They had been on a few more expeditions since that day by the riverside, to plazas and parks and even the batting cages, where Tohsaka had socked away baseballs with vicious glee.

Where he might have once been surprised at the wildcat lurking under the prim and proper lady, now he knew exactly what to expect when he'd challenged her to a match. His shoulders still ached, and one of the balls had its cover ripped off entirely from the force of their strikes.

He found himself smiling. Worth it.

His eyes strayed to the scarf again. He wondered how it would feel between his fingers, and how angrily Tohsaka's cheeks would flush when he tugged on it to pull her closer.

The image pleasantly lingered for a few seconds before a sigh left his mouth. That little fantasy proved that buying it would actually be a gift for himself, not for Tohsaka. He should stick to the red cashmere he knew she wore, or better yet, take her to the store and let her choose for herself.

Two schoolgirls walking arm-in-arm had to do a stumbling shuffle to get around Shirou, still gazing through the window. Their high laughter brought him back to the present. Time was wearing on and people were expecting him.

The bells on the door of the Excelsior cafe tinkled as Shirou walked in. Mitsuzuri and Sakura were already there, sitting at a corner table. There were water glasses placed in front of them, but it looked like they hadn't ordered their drinks proper yet. Good, that meant they hadn't been waiting long. Mitsuzuri's face lit up when she spotted him.

"Hey, Emiya! Over here!" she enthusiastically greeted as she waved him over. Sakura's greeting was more subdued, a welcoming smile as she handed him one of the menus.

"Mitsuzuri, Sakura," he nodded. "It's good to see you both."

The teacher gave him a lopsided grin as she rested her chin on her folded hands. "Same to you. It's been too long, Emiya. Glad you finally freed up some time for us today."

Shirou suppressed a wince as he thought of the filings sitting on his desk, the ones due by noon Wednesday. Making time for Tohsaka had already dug into his schedule, but he didn't mind if it was her. He had already decided he would make her smile, as he strived to make his clients smile. It was the same thing.

(Part of him insisted it really wasn't, but he drowned it in work and black coffee)

In contrast, his two friends seemed happy enough without his intervention. He enjoyed sipping tea at their apartment or running into them at the grocery store, but he knew he wasn't essential to the happiness they had found in each other. It made it harder to justify neglecting his cases to meet today, even if he sorely missed them.

His eyes scanned distractedly over the menu offerings. "You mentioned you had something important to talk about."

"That's right." Mitsuzuri's grin sharpened at the corners. "But now that we have you here, you're not getting away without some catching up between old friends."

He groaned. "Ayako, I have a lot of work—"

"She's right." Sakura's airy voice interrupted him. "It's so rare to see you these days, Shirou. Please?"

Impossible to resist those pleading violet eyes. Shirou had a pretty good idea why the Mount Miyama flower shop's sales had jumped after Sakura became its owner. But even without that, his friends were making it only too clear that they had missed him too. That they wanted to know about how his life was going, and share news about theirs in turn. They wouldn't hold it against him if he insisted that they cut to the chase or even turned around and headed back out the door, but their hearts would weigh a little heavier.

Really too troublesome.

So he gave in, pulling off his coat and settling back on the plush cushion of his chair. "Alright, I guess I can spare a little while. How have you two been?"

The sudden pride in the teacher's face, combined with the calendar date, gave him some inkling. "I take it the Fall archery meet went well?"

"It sure did!" enthused Mitsuzuri. "We have a really good crop of juniors this year. None of them quite up to your old standard, Shirou—"

"Mitsuzuri, it's been years—" he grumbled, though he couldn't help but feel a bit flattered that she still thought so highly of him.

Undeterred, she plowed on. "— but once Moriyama gets through with them, they'll be in fighting shape for spring—"

Sakura giggled behind her hand and winked at Shirou, even as her partner waxed eloquent on the virtues of the new archery captain. "She said that last year, too," she confided in a whisper.

"And were they—?" he asked

A small shake of the head and another suppressed laugh was all the answer he needed.

Two iced matcha lattes were placed in front of the women, while Shirou requested a simple black coffee. With their drinks taken care of, everything became that much more relaxed.

Conversation bloomed around the small table, falling into the old patterns that Shirou was intimately familiar with. Mitsuzuri had none lost of her boldness over the years—if anything, teaching had only strengthened her voice—and the bold red of her talk was punctuated by cheerful laughter and sly insinuations. Sakura was a deep blue, gentle and soothing words that suddenly cut like ice whether she wanted to drive home a point.

The pattern they wove together was both pleasant and nostalgic, and Shirou found himself wondering why he didn't see these two more often.

A small beep signalling a message on his phone. Right, that's why.

The involuntarily stiffening of his shoulders wasn't missed by either of his companions. They exchanged a glance, then faced him with uncharacteristically serious expressions.

Mitsuzuri put down the straw she'd been playing with. "Thanks for indulging us, Shirou. But before we let you go, there's something we need to talk about."

"Sure, go ahead."

His brow furrowed as he tried to think of what could be bothering his friends. It couldn't be anything urgent, or they wouldn't have insisted on chatting for a while first. Maybe they needed legal advice after Sakura caught an employee with her hand in the till or something.

He just hoped it wasn't another talk about his long hours and why he apparently felt a compulsive need to punish himself with work. Saving people to atone for his sin was the only path open to him, but Shirou's experiences with Kiritsugu and Fuji-nee told him people grew uncomfortable when he put it in such stark terms.

Sakura hesitated for a moment, then pressed her lips together. "It's about Neesan."

That was unexpected, and Shirou found himself blinking at her. "Tohsaka? Is everything alright with her?"

She had seemed in good spirits when he'd dropped her off at home the other day, but maybe she'd overdone it at the batting cages too. Then again, she couldn't complain too much. The whole thing had been her idea, even if Shirou might have prodded the beast once they'd stepped through the doors.

"It's a bit complicated," said Sakura, cupping her hands around her glass of half-consumed latte. "We're glad you two are spending time together, but… well, you're sending her mixed messages."

Surprise and irritation prickled across Shirou's skin, and he took a long sip of too-hot coffee to steady himself. I'm the one sending mixed messages? Tohsaka always feels like she's testing me somehow.

"I don't see how," he said once the cup was back down. "Every time she suggests an outing, I pencil it into my schedule. Maybe not as quickly as she'd like, but—"

"Every time she suggests," interrupted Mitsuzuri, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. "Do you ever call her up with tickets in hand?"

"Huh? Well, not always tickets. But when she mentions she'd like to go somewhere, I try to look into it."

There was a charge in the glances exchanged by the two women, one he knew didn't bode well for him. Shirou crossed his arms, still unsure of what they were getting at.

"That's normal, isn't it? I mean, I don't want to take Tohsaka somewhere she wouldn't like."

"Are they also things that you want to do, Emiya? Something meaningful to you?" asked Mitsuzuri.

His lips pressed into a stubborn line. "That's not important."

Sakura gazed into the green and white swirls of her own drink. "It never is with you."

There was wistfulness in her tone, but also a brittle disapproval that made his stomach knot up. Shirou's brows creased into an irritated line. This was getting as roundabout as some of his conversations with Tohsaka herself, and he wished they'd get to the point already.

"Look, what exactly is the problem?" he said. "As long as Tohsaka is happy, I don't mind."

Mitsuzuri snorted. "That's exactly the problem, Emiya. She isn't."

Barbed wire coiled around Shirou's heart and pulled tight. A vision of brilliant blue eyes set atop a winning smile made him want to argue, but it was marred by other impressions from their outings. Tohsaka's brows pinched in frustration when she judged he'd agreed to something too easily. The way her mouth tightened sometimes, when she caught him deep in thought. Most of all, the shadow in her gaze each time he saw her off at her manor gates.

"I…" His hand clenched around his cup. "Then I'll try harder. I'll keep trying until that spark is back in her eyes."

Even if he wasn't sure what he was doing wrong, he'd figure it out.

Mitsuzuri's sigh could have cut glass. "Emiya, just tell me one thing. Please tell me you're not treating her as a project." His blank expression made her mouth twist into a grimace. "Are you dating her because you actually like her? Or are you trying to fix her, like one of your clients?"

The accusation made him flinch, even as it set his mind spinning. Something hot and not entirely comfortable flared up in his chest as he thought of Tohsaka's teasing smirk.

"I do," he said after a moment, "even if she's the most infuriating woman I've ever met."

Because even if he meant to release her once her flame was lit again, he knew he would look back fondly on his time with her. Aloof and adorable in turns, her facade a complicated puzzle to hide the tender heart he could spot underneath. Clever too, and proud to show it off at the merest excuse. Shirou smiled as he imagined her here drinking coffee with them, calmly dissecting each of Mitsuzuri's insinuations.

A discreet cough from the other side of the table jolted him out of his thoughts. Sakura was hiding another smile behind her hands. Mitsuzuri was still frowning, though her mouth had softened around the corners.

"Hmph, she owes me big time for this," murmured Mitsuzuri, before leaning towards Shirou with bright eyes. "Alright, let me spell things out for you. Rin likes you, a lot. Even if she's too proud to come out and say it directly."

"Oh," he said, feeling heat creep up his face.

Well, it wasn't exactly a surprise. Not with the way her composure cracked whenever he smiled at her, leaving her to huff and hurriedly smooth it back over. But hearing it said out loud… sweat gathered at the nape of his neck.

Mitsuzuri sighed and spread her hands wide. "But she can't tell if you feel the same. That's why you're making her unhappy."

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Sakura shook her head. "Listen, Shirou. Neesan can tell when you're suggesting things just for her sake, and it upsets her. It makes her feel like she's burdening you. Like seeing her is a chore, not a pleasure."

Shirou shook his head. "That's not true at all."

Because Tohsaka enjoying herself freed him to have fun too, without the shroud of guilt that suffocated him when he tried to do so on his own account. That was already more than he deserved, so it really didn't matter if some of the shops left him itching with boredom, or if the queues made him long for the documents stacked on his desk.

"Doesn't matter," snapped Mitsuzuri, twisting the straw between her fingers. "That's the impression you give."

Shirou's brows creased. If he really was making her upset, then maybe he should let her go. Release her for the next guy, who could make her entirely and uncomplicatedly happy.

Or I can shift my approach and keep seeing her. Before he could stop it, the greedy impulse had commandeered his mouth.

"Then what should I do?" he found himself asking.

"Try being a little more selfish," said Mitsuzuri before taking a long sip of her drink.

He blinked.

"If all Neesan wants is an escort, she can get that easily," said Sakura, not without a trace of old bitterness. "If she insists on taking you, it's because she wants to share the experience with you. With Emiya Shirou."

Shirou shook his head. As nice as that sounded, he wasn't arrogant enough to think himself all that special. Whatever Tohsaka saw in him, there were doubtless others that met the same criteria, and that without the sin he'd carried for more than a decade.

Apparently oblivious to his internal torment, Sakura waved a hand and continued. "It took a long time for me to learn this, but… keeping barriers with people isn't good, Shirou. Not with the people you want to make happy."

Seemingly unconsciously, she reached out and took Mitsuzuri's hand, putting a pleased smile on the other woman's face. "You have to open yourself up, and let yourself get swept along. Part of that means insisting on what you want sometimes, too."

"Besides…" interrupted Mitsuzuri as she shot him a wink. "Rin gets bored if she's not challenged. And you're really good at knocking her down a few pegs."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And how exactly would you know that, Mitsuzuri?"

The woman laughed and tapped the side of her nose. "Secret of the trade!"

Meaning, he suspected, a talent for pulling gossip from even the most obstinate sources. A fond smile tugged at his mouth. She really was Fuji-nee's successor, in more ways than the obvious.

Leaning back in his chair again, he forced himself to digest their advice. What they said made sense when he considered it in the abstract. But when he tried to apply it to himself…

"I don't deserve to be selfish." He flinched when he realized he had said it out loud.

But not as much as when Sakura's palm slammed down on the table. "Stop it, Shirou!"

Anger shook her slender shoulders as she rounded on him. Hastily she brushed away the arm Mitsuzuri tried to place around her, her eyes flashing violet as she glared at him.

"After all this time, you still… this is exactly why it never worked out between us." Her mouth twisted with old hurt. "Because you put so little value on yourself. Because you can't bear to think that we love you, and we worry about you. That it hurts us when you're unhappy."

"Sakura…" he murmured, unable to look away.

A distant echo of another voice buzzed in his ears; Taiga trembling with furious relief as she loomed over the hospital bed.

"I won't let you do this again, Shirou." Her finger jabbed towards him, almost hitting him between the eyes. "Not to Neesan, and not to yourself."

She held his gaze a second more, shivering with unleashed emotion, before primly setting herself back down in her seat and picking up her cooling latte. The look she shot him over it could still have boiled water, though. Shirou found his skin prickling under it.

If even Sakura, normally a bastion of patience and controlled grace, felt this strongly about it…

Shirou didn't think he was wrong. He had lived this way for eighteen years, ever since Kiritusgu had pulled him from the fire and shown him that smile, the one Shirou still chased with all his heart. It wasn't wrong to try and save people, he was sure of it.

But maybe he could reach for other things too.

"Well, if you think it would make Tohsaka happy…" he said, not quite ready to put words to the jumbled ball of emotions in his chest.

Mitsuzuri's exasperated sigh wouldn't have been out of place in a three hour teachers' conference. "You should try being happy for your own sake, you know. But I guess this is a step in the right direction."

"I'm so glad you approve," said Shirou, letting a touch of dry sarcasm color his words before he could stop himself. Tohsaka really was a bad influence on him.

Rather than annoying Mitsuzuri, it brought a warm smile to her lips as she traced the rim of her empty cup. "Listen, Emiya… I don't know what happened to make you think you're not valuable, but you are. Don't insult us by suggesting we'd waste our time on someone that wasn't worth it, okay?"

Sakura gave an empathic nod, affection pushing out her lingering anger. "Ayako and I… we're your friends. If you ever want to talk, we're here for you."

Gratitude painted his heart in warm colors, even if he felt guilty for worrying his friends. "I know. And I appreciate it." And he really did, even if he knew he could never impose on them like that. "You've given me a lot to think about."

Checking his phone for time, he hurriedly finished the last of his coffee in one big gulp. "Sorry to cut things off. But if that's everything, I really need to get back to it."

"One last thing," grinned Mitsuzuri, recovering some of her usual cheer. "Make sure to use protection, okay? Don't be quite that selfish."

Right, thought Shirou as he left the shop, Mitsuzuri's laughter and Sakura's half-hearted admonishments still ringing in ears flushed red with embarrassment. That's the other reason I don't see them more often.

"The forest trails at the top? Well, I can't say I've ever been…" said Rin, following Shirou's gaze up the stone steps etched into the mountainside.

"Not a lot of people go there unless they're visiting the cemetery. But there's something I want to show you."

Towering pines and golden-orange ferns stood on either side like ceremonial guards, welcoming visitors up to the blue-tiled front gate just visible at the top.

Well, any other visitor, reflected Rin as the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

Approaching the temple grounds, even if she didn't actually enter them, was a violation of her unspoken accord with Ryuudou Issei. Although age had mellowed them both, she could still expect a stiff letter of complaint if the monk spotted her.

No matter. Rin would happily take the displeasure of a thousand Isseis to join Shirou today, especially when he'd shown up at her door without warning or apology. On a Wednesday afternoon no less, despite his punishing work schedule. It was all entirely out of pattern, which made it both exciting and more nerve-wracking than she cared to admit.

"Hmph. You've already dragged me out this far, so let's go up and see it," she said, then gave him a wicked smirk. "I hope for your sake it's worth the hike. If not, can you imagine what might happen?"

Not a serious threat, of course, but it didn't hurt to put him on the defensive. It would help mask the eagerness bubbling up in her veins, and a woman had her pride.

"You'll sulk like a child?" he shrugged, although there was a telltale twinkle in his eye.

Damn him. All the more so because she couldn't get properly angry at him, not when he managed to be so infuriatingly charming about it. Instead she huffed and marched up the first few steps.

Only to have him catch her arm and gently pull her back. "Wait just a moment, Tohsaka."

"Haa? But the sooner we get started, the sooner we'll g—" Her mouth snapped shut when he draped something soft and warm over her shoulders.

Shirou's gaze was almost solemn as he tied the scarf at the base of her throat. "It gets cold up there, so it's best to dress warm."

Wonderingly, she rubbed the blue wool between her fingers. When she glanced over at Shirou, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He was watching her intently, his eyes smiling even more brightly than his mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks and she snapped her gaze back up the path.

"R-right," she stammered. "Thank you." She started climbing the steps again, hoping the chill in the wind would steady her. "I guess they didn't have it in red."

It was a small joke at her own expense. Even Shirou, oblivious to fashion as he was, must have noticed certain patterns in her clothing by this point.

But the redhead looked entirely serious as he stepped up beside her, his shoulder briefly brushing against hers.

"I like it in blue," he said. "It brings out your eyes."

The heat in Rin's face intensified; by now she had to be a flaming wreck. Instinctively she reached up to pull the scarf more tightly around her, and felt hard plastic scrape against her fingers. Glancing down, she discovered a black cat pinned on the fabric.

"Did you put that there?" she asked, grateful for the distraction even as she puffed out her cheeks. "What am I, twelve?"

"If you don't like it, I'll take it back," he said, entirely unruffled as he reached for the pin.

Gently she brushed his hand away. "Leave it. You put it there, after all." Her strides ate up a bit more distance before she murmured under her breath, "Even I know when to give in."

That, and the pin really was cute. It reminded her of the cheerful cat pattern on the pyjamas she used to wear for comfort as a teenager, on nights when she felt particularly stressed. Although made from cool plastic, the adornment felt like it radiated some of that same warmth.

Now if only Shirou's sigh didn't sound quite so satisfied as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets. Rin felt torn between sniping at him, or tolerating it so she could bask in the moment. Between the fresh scent of the surrounding pines and the fluttering in her stomach, she swiftly settled on the latter.

They were three quarters of the way up to the torii gate when Shirou abruptly pulled her between two cedar trees. Her cry of protest died on her lips as she took in the brown earth and leafy canopy of a forest trail. It was hard to see very far ahead, the path winding haphazardly around trees and rocks, and Rin was grateful she was wearing boots instead of her usual heels.

"Do the monks know this is here?" she asked as she followed close behind him, the trail too narrow to accommodate more than single file.

"Of course," answered Shirou with an easy shrug of shoulders, stepping over a particularly gnarled set of ancient roots. "But they don't mind. Sometimes people need space to be alone with their thoughts."

There was a weight to his words, a subtle loneliness that made Rin's heart tighten in her chest. Quite possibly Shirou wasn't even aware of it, but that didn't stop the odd mixture of guilt and gratitude she felt flowing through her. Guilt for only now realizing that the man was suffering, and for her inability to soothe that ache—for Rin could hardly give lessons on something she wasn't close to mastering herself. Gratitude that he would share this side of him with her, even if unconsciously. The trust it implied was difficult for a magus to accept, but all the more real for it.

So when Shirou eventually lapsed into silence, lost in his own thoughts, Rin didn't push for conversation. Instead, she drank in her surroundings. Sunlight filtered through rustling leaves, and every step kicked up the scent of wet loam, but it wasn't unpleasant.

It had been a long time since Rin felt this close to the land she claimed as Second Owner, felt it as sacred life running under her feet rather than a cold map of leylines and calculations. A gift even more meaningful than the cloth wrapped around her neck, and one that filled her with just as much warmth, even if its giver had no idea.

Then Shirou led her through a thicket into open sky, and the blood froze in her veins.

Why here, of all places?

The small cliff and the view of the city below were achingly familiar, even after close to a decade. Because although Rin hadn't been lying when she told Shirou she had never climbed the mountain paths, she had definitely been here before.

Strong arms wrapped around her as he bounded up the cliffside with inhuman agility, his red mantle whipping wildly in the biting wind of a winter night.

This had been one of Archer's favoured vantage points during the War. The Servant had insisted it offered a better view of the city than her own suggestion of Center Tower, while being less exposed to enemies. At the time, with the pressures of the War hanging over them, she had easily accepted what seemed like pragmatism. Looking back on it, he'd seemed almost wistful...

Gritting her teeth, Rin fiercely pushed away the memories and the tangled web of emotions that came with them. This was about the present (future, she briefly thought before correcting herself), not the past. And after Shirou brought her all the way up here, she could at least give him her full attention.

The large rock by the edge was surprisingly comfortable when they sat down on it, worn smooth by wind and rain. It really was a beautiful view by daylight, Fuyuki at peace among the green pines and the patchwork of old and new roofs.

"Kiritsugu used to take me up here on hikes, sometimes," said Shirou, gaze lost somewhere in the distance. "He said the mountain air would force the last of the smoke out from my lungs. Honestly, I think he wanted to show me the plants and the animals, life moving on even after disaster. So I would move on too, even if he wouldn't let himself do the same."

Questions flooded Rin's mouth, and it was only with considerable effort that she managed to swallow them back down. This was about what Shirou wanted to share, not what she wanted to know, even if she burned with curiosity.

"I haven't mentioned him before, have I?" Idly the redhead picked up a loose pebble and turned it over in his hands. "He was my adoptive father, even if I didn't know him very long."

Didn't know him very long… does that mean he died?

Rin's stomach roiled. She already knew Shirou was an orphan, Sakura had said as much, but to lose a second father on top of that… a real father, from the affection in his voice, nothing like that empty shell of a priest…

"What happened?" she whispered, unable to stop herself.

"He had to leave," said Shirou, his mouth trembling. He looked smaller as he drew his shoulders in, a lonely boy rather than the confident man she had come to know. "I wanted to go with him, but Kiritsugu forbade it. He said it was too dangerous."

She pinched her lips. "How old…?"

"Eight." He gave a shaky laugh. "The way Kiritsugu's face twisted up… I know he wanted to stay with me longer, and felt guilty that he couldn't. It was only nine months after the fire, and I was starting to walk again. Not just physically, I mean. In life too, I guess. I didn't really want to, most days, but he'd take a drag on his cigarette and look at me so expectantly that I found myself walking anyway."

The fire. Here in Fuyuki, that was all too likely to mean the blaze that ended the Fourth War. Another price paid for failed magecraft, this time by ordinary people. Another spike of guilt stabbed at her heart.

"But whatever it was Kiritsugu had to do, he was running out of time," continued Shirou, his grip tightening on the pebble. "He said he would likely fail, but he'd regret it forever if he didn't try."

A sigh drifted through the air, weighed down with sympathy. It took Rin a moment to realize it was her own. Fortunately Shirou didn't seem to mind, only giving her a small smile before looking back towards the landscape below.

"His sleeve. I remember reaching for it then, when he turned away. When he wouldn't meet my eyes."

A snap of his arm, and the pebble went sailing far into the air before disappearing somewhere in the pine branches far below.

"Then I let my hand drop away," said Shirou, his smile taking on shades of a grimace. "He didn't talk much about his old life, no matter how much I begged him. But even without that, I knew. Everything about Kiritsugu screamed that he was a man who knew all about regrets. How could I selfishly ask him to take on more for me?"

"Shirou…"

"Kiritsugu saved me, and now he was going to save someone else. And maybe he'd smile again, the one he showed me that day through the smoke and ashes." Shirou's fingers traced his lips before falling away. "I wanted him to be happy, Tohsaka. I owed him so much."

Rin shifted uncomfortably on the rock as she listened. Debts were dangerous things in the world of magi, liable to be cashed in secrets, blood, or worse. To hear Shirou speak of owning someone with gratitude in his voice, instead of cold obligation… it was a passage in a foreign book, written in a language indecipherable to her mind. But somehow, it spoke loud and clear to her heart.

"So I told him to stay safe, and that I'd have dinner for him when he got home," continued Shirou, and his smile edged back into warmth. "That made Kiritsugu laugh. I'd tried to make my first stirfry the evening before, and… well, let's just say we had brand new pans."

"Catastrophic failure, hmm?" Rin gave a playful shrug."Well, I suppose even Master Chef Emiya had to start somewhere."

Shirou shot her a look. "Eight years old, remember?"

"Sure, sure," she said, pleased by the reluctant amusement she saw in the arch of his brows.

Not that she could fault him too much for some destroyed cookware — Rin's first attempt at cooking in her empty kitchen had nearly burned down the manor. The disappointment in Kirei's eyes when he brought her a new fire extinguisher still made her teeth grind in bitter rage. The man had known exactly what he was doing when he oh-so-innocently suggested a favourite meal might help jog her mother's damaged mind.

No. She unclenched her fists in favour of focusing on Shirou's steady voice as he resumed his story. Listening to him talk about a beloved father was far better than dwelling on a man that couldn't even manage the distorted image of one.

"I made him laugh. I remember thinking that." Shirou shook his head, a touch of wonder in his eyes. "Seeing his brows lift, and the lines on his face relax, even a little… it was nice. It wasn't that smile, but it was something. "

There was a distant crackling in the pines down below, followed by the hoarse caws of angry crows. When the birds had settled down again, Shirou closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"He never came back. You probably already guessed as much."

Rin's hands twisted in the hem of her coat. "I'm sorry," she said. Wholly inadequate, but that was the thing about grief. All the well-meaning wishes in the world didn't make breathing any easier when the tide overwhelmed you.

"I had a dream, you know," said Shirou, his voice a whisper on the wind. "A sheathe, gold and blue. Heavy with light. It was so beautiful that it made my heart burn."

Absently his hand strayed to his chest and rested there.

"I went through Kiritsugu's suitcase while he was taking his shower. Just to make sure he didn't forget anything. The old man never forgot a date, but he was really bad about socks and toothpaste and things like that."

"The little necessities," murmured Rin.

"Yeah. The stuff that Fuji-nee says makes people human."

Another riot of irate cries and beating wings erupted below, but Shirou didn't seem to notice. A look of awe spread on his face as his eyes fluttered open.

"That's when I saw it," he breathed. "The sheathe from my dreams, wrapped up in cloth and tucked under his jacket. I guess Kiritsugu wanted to make sure he wouldn't forget it, but I don't know how you ever could." His fingers curled and twitched. "It was beautiful and sad, like a requiem, but holding it… it felt right."

Shirou looked at her pleadingly.

"I know it sounds stupid, but… as soon as my hand closed on it, I felt less empty. Like liquid light was being poured into me, into a hollow part I didn't even know about."

A shuddering sigh shook his entire frame.

"I wanted to keep it so badly. I've never wanted anything so much, before or after. But even then, I knew."

"Knew what?" asked Rin quietly.

"This sheathe belongs to a true hero." His words jittered and trembled, but he forced them out anyway. "A hero who saves everyone. This sheathe isn't for me."

"That doesn't—"

Shirou cut her off. "And the old man needed it. That made it better, actually. It felt like a part of me was going with him."

Rin's mouth twisted in protest. "You just said you didn't think the sheathe was for you."

"I know," he said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. "It doesn't make sense, does it? But that's how it felt, all the same. Like a part of me was tied to that sheathe, somehow. And that part went with Kiritsugu on his journey."

Then all the energy seemed to drain out of Shirou at once, his shoulders hunching.

"But Kiritsugu never came back," he muttered. " So I guess if I did go with him, I wasn't able to save him."

His smile was white foam over a sea of sorrow, so fragile that Rin thought she might fall through it and drown too. She tried to think of various platitudes, of all the things that one was supposed to say in a situation like this. About how she was sure Kiritsugu would have been happy to know his son was thinking about him, how it must have been a comfort no matter what happened.

Instead Rin sighed and took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his larger, rougher ones. "You were a child."

"Maybe," said Shirou after a moment, though his voice shattered like glass on concrete. "I tell myself I'll do better now. My clients, my friends… but it never feels like enough."

"No," she said, some of the bitter taste in her mouth seeping into her words. "It never does."

Uncomfortably she watched him curl in deeper on himself. The hollow look in his eyes was all too familiar. She had seen it in the mirror on her worst nights, when even brandy wasn't enough to soothe her back to sleep.

Rin could handle that emptiness when it haunted her own face, with the same grit she handled everything else in her life. But seeing it on Shirou's was intolerable.

So she leaned towards him and flicked his forehead.

"Ow!" His gaze was first reproachful, then confused as he took in the confident tilt of her chin.

"Fine! If you won't forgive yourself, I'll do it for you," she said, pointing a finger imperiously between his eyes. "Emiya Shirou, I hereby absolve you of your sins."

He gaped at her for a moment. "That's not—"

" —how it works. I know," she said, giving him a sad smile. "Only you can forgive yourself, and I don't know if you ever will. You're such a stubborn guy."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled, though his eyes never left hers.

While Rin normally wouldn't let that kind of snark go unanswered, she was glad to hear it now. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand.

"But just so you know… I'm glad you stayed behind, even if you aren't." The words were heavy on her tongue, too close to an admission of weakness, but she needed them said. "Because of that, I was able to meet you."

She felt rather than saw the shudder that ran through Shirou's body, his fingers tightening around hers to the point of pain. Biting her lip, she waited until the little jerks in his breathing evened out.

"Is that so," Shirou murmured at last, the tension slowly draining from his frame.

His eyes were still clouded, but in fleeting gray instead of stormcover black. The sight let Rin finally relax, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

When Shirou's free hand scrabbled for another stone, seemingly unconsciously, Rin reached down and placed a fist sized one in his palm. She met his questioning look with a grin and a pebble of her own.

"Bet I can throw it further than you!" she said, pulling him to his feet and tugging him towards the cliff edge.

"Are you going to let go of my hand?" he asked in a dry tone, though he followed along willingly enough. "Because I can't help but notice that while we're both right handed, only yours is free."

Rin hid a smirk as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "And here I thought Emiya Shirou wouldn't give up so easily, even through a handicap… ah, what a disappointment."

"I know exactly what you're up to, demon."

"Yeah?" Blue eyes met sherry brown, flashing merrily. "Then won't you play along?"

"Haa, I guess it can't be helped." But for all the carelessness of his step, his jaw tightened in a way she recognized all too well from that day in the batting cages.

They had a few competitive rounds of rock throwing, all aimed far away from the forest trails that Shirou pointed out below, with accuracy born of long familiarity. Throughout it all, he never once let go of her hand, even when she told him she had been joking about the handicap. In the face of that sportsmanship (and certainly not the flutter of her heart), she fought back the temptation to funnel a little extra power via her circuits, even if that restraint meant his victory.

And as maddening as she found the touch of smugness in the corner of his mouth, it was absolutely worth it to see the accompanying cheerful lift of his brow. It was a good feeling, knowing she could help soothe the emotional wound he had torn open for her benefit (even if he probably thought of it as selfishly burdening her with his feelings, the impossible idiot).

It almost made her want to spill herself in turn. Even if she wasn't ready to blurt out all the dark secrets locked away in her mental vaults where she didn't have to look at them, the ones that Shirou's gentle eyes silently asked her about when she slipped up and let them show on her face—

— the jagged ambivalence she felt for her own father, the emotional poison she had drip-fed herself for years to drown out guilt and loneliness, the withering away of her magus' conviction in herself and her work—

— maybe it wouldn't hurt to let Shirou get a little bit closer. So when he told her about the wilder people he'd met during his legal misadventures, she opened up about her time in London, her successes and (very occasional) mishaps. And if she applied a veneer of deceit to cover the supernatural elements of the Clocktower and its pompous inhabitants, it was a very thin coat.

Before she had quite realized it, the sky was darkening, fingers of dusk stretching across the blue expanse.

"Look," said Shirou, pointing down towards the city. "Here's what I wanted to show you."

With the sun setting at their backs, they could easily spot pinpricks of yellow light as they came on in the buildings below. More and more of them, until Fuyuki was clad in her own scarf of glittering artificial stars, warding off the chill of the autumn night.

"Each of those lights is a person," said Shirou softly. "Kiritsugu said that when he had doubts about whether he was doing the right thing, whether his sacrifices were worth it… he'd come up here to remind himself."

"So he wanted you to do the same," she said.

The upward twitch of Shirou's lips were just visible in the darkness. "No, actually. He always made me pick out the lights from our house."

His finger pointed towards central Miyama, though Rin couldn't tell which individual light he meant.

"Said it would bring me home, even when everything went dark."

Rin forced herself to return his squeeze of the hand even as nausea cramped her stomach. Standing on this cliffside under cover of night, a silent but strong presence at her side as she looked down upon an oblivious Fuyuki… it reminded her too much of Archer, of the War.

She glanced at Shirou again, and felt her breath catch in her lungs. The furrow in his brow, the set of his jaw, even the easy grace of his stance, all held an eerie familiarity that curdled her thoughts. The threads of a connection began to spin in her mind, the pieces of a maddening puzzle clicking into place.

Then Shirou smiled, his eyes shining as he took in the city below, and she knew he wasn't thinking of enemies, but of all the people settling in for the evening, or heading out to restaurants and smoky bars and theatres. It was impossible to imagine such a gentle smile on Archer's austere face, not even at his most relaxed in her kitchens. The forming mists of connection instantly dissolved in the face of that smile. For the first time since they'd reached this cliff, Rin felt herself truly relax.

Before she could think better of it, she found herself leaning against Shirou's shoulder. Pushed away the chiding of her inner magus to entrust herself to someone, knowing he wouldn't let her fall. It should have felt wrong, should have tasted of vulnerability and weakness. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As natural as the hands that gently cupped her face and turned her to look at him, broad palms and strong fingers on her skin. As natural as drifting closer, until they met in a kiss.

His lips were rough and a bit chapped, but he made up for it by kissing tenderly and carefully, as if she was made of spun glass. Too carefully, and Rin found herself tugging insistently on his collar. Thankfully he got the hint, deepening the kiss in a way that made her toes curl in delight and set her heart hammering.

When they pulled apart, they were both panting and a little flushed. Okay, more than a little flushed in Rin's case, and she hastily reached for her trademark smirk. A defense against the silent affection in his amber eyes as he regarded her.

"Not bad," she conceded, affecting an airy tone despite how that affection made her stomach flip in a way that was both pleasant and a little unnerving. "I give it a sev—"

She gave a little gasp when Shirou pressed his forehead against hers. Warm, it was every bit as warm against her as the kiss had been, and equally sucked the breath out of her.

"Thanks for listening, Tohsaka." His words were quiet, but lingered in the evening air. "And… for what you said after, too."

Mental gears ground to a halt, leaving Rin to stare helplessly at him as he pulled away, returning his gaze to the city below. Eventually she huffed and tugged her scarf in closer. Just to keep her hands busy, certainly not for the scent of him that still permeated the material.

"That's fine. After all, it means you owe me a favour now," said Rin, lifting her chin.

Shirou only smiled. "Of course. Anytime you want to talk, I'm here."

Not the kind of favour she meant, but it felt impossible to correct him when the amber of his eyes shone that brightly. Guilt twisted her stomach as she looked away from them.

Because the temptation to tell him everything, to spill her shadows at his feet, had returned with a vengeance. The urge was so strong it made her shiver. Yet she already knew she wouldn't, and not just for noble-sounding reasons like protecting him from the Moonlit World, but for myriad selfish ones.

Hypocrite, she reprimanded herself. Here you are demanding that Shirou open himself up to you, to know he's serious about you. All while you keep him at arms-length from the worst secrets of all.

"Hey." Shirou nudged her arm. "It's getting a bit cold up here, and there's somewhere else I want to take you."

"Oh?" drawled Rin, only too grateful to be pulled from her thoughts. "After dragging me all the way up a mountain, you're still making demands of me? How very bold of you, Shirou."

"Ahh, and here I thought Tohsaka was made of tougher stuff," he shrugged. "Well, if you're tired from just this, I'll take you home."

If his earlier smile would have been foreign on Archer's face, the infuriating smirk he wore now would have been right at home. It prickled Rin's temper even as it warmed her.

"Hmph! We'll just see about that." She stood up and brushed the dust from her skirt, then gave him a grin brimming with playful malice. "Think carefully about where we're going. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, right?"

"I'll take my chances," he said in an unimpressed tone, even as he offered her his hand.

Rin took it without a moment's hesitation, and together they started down the trails back towards the city below. And if it was embarrassing that he had remembered to bring a flashlight when she had none of her own, she could comfort herself that surely it was entirely his fault they had stayed out here so long in the first place.

It turned out that Shirou was an excellent singer.

Rin has halfway through her second glass of wine, pleasantly buzzed and giggling while the man crooned out an enka song. His controlled vibrato gave resonance to the nostalgia of a man returning to his childhood village and the girl he left behind, turning hoary sentiment into raw emotion that moved even Rin's stony heart a little.

Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking, or the soulful look on his handsome face as he ended the song with a flourish. Either way, she smiled when he put the microphone back on the table in front of them.

"You missed your calling, Shirou," she said. "Forget law. You should be up on stage in a kimono and eyepatch, belting out classics for all the old folks."

"I'll take that to mean I'm distinguished and suave."

His return smile was a little crooked, even after a single beer. But Rin had already discovered that for all his strong frame, he was a surprising lightweight when it came to alcohol.

"Sure, we'll go with that," she laughed, then shook her head wonderingly. "Suave enough to sucker me here, anyway." Her shoulders rose in an exaggerated shrug. "Here I am singing karaoke on a Wednesday night like a desperate salaryman. And the worst part is that for once, I'm actually having fun."

"Really?" Shirou looked at her quizzically. "Didn't you used to go out singing with Mitsuzuri and Makidera and the rest?"

"As little as I could get away with," Rin confessed, tapping the side of her glass. "The school idol can't afford to look too aloof, so I came a few times for the sake of image." She airily waved a hand. "Singing isn't my forte, but an idol can't be anything but perfect. Which meant I had to always be on my guard. Find excuses to avoid any song I couldn't handle."

Rin knew she was talking far too much, admitting things she would definitely regret once sober. But right now, she was enjoying herself far too much to care.

"But it's different with me," he observed with a small smile.

"Of course," she said loftily. "You're my boyfriend. You're obliged to compliment me no matter how badly I sing."

To her glee, his ears reddened a bit at her use of the term. If embarrassment didn't take anything away from the bright amber of his eyes or his glorious mouth, it did make the man more approachable.

Rin really wanted to kiss him again.

"Tch. I refuse to be held to that," he grumbled good-humouredly as he scrolled through the song selections on the tablet.

Laughing, she draped herself over his shoulder to look down at the screen with him. "But really, Shirou, you seem at home here."

"Oh, this place has been around for years. I used to bring my blind dates here."

Rin grinned. "And did they all enjoy enka?"

"Hah, no." Shirou shook his head. "They usually laughed through the first song or two, but then they insisted on singing something cooler. Western rock, or the latest Orange Range." His fingers curled absently around his beer. "Especially if we were on a double date."

"And yet here we are, on your fifth enka solo of the night," she said, playfully prodding his cheek.

"Yeah. I felt like it tonight," he said, without a trace of apology.

He glanced up at her, golden-brown eyes sparking against blue. They grinned at each other.

"Good," said Rin, reaching towards the screen. "Then let's put another one on for you."

Shirou easily intercepted her finger, punching in his own selection. "For us, you mean. Next one's a duet."

"Shirou, no!" But she was laughing even as he pulled her up and pressed a microphone on her.

Tripping over the lyrics of a song she'd never heard before should have been mortifying, even in a private room. But Shirou's quiet cheer was infectious. So much that instead of suffering through the tune for his sake, she found herself enthusiastically joining in.

It was close to midnight by the time they settled the bill and tumbled out into the cold autumn night, smiling and humming bits of music at each other despite the chill. Rin barely noticed the taxi ride back to her manor, too caught up in the pleasant bubble of his company. It almost came as a shock when he stopped in front of the gates, ready to wish her goodnight.

Her hands twisted in her coat, and in the scarf he had given her. She really didn't want to let him go.

Invite him in, then. Simple.

But it really wasn't, not for Tohsaka Rin. Other than the weekly cleaning service, nobody had set foot in her house since the night Archer died. Kirei was long gone (good riddance), Professor Waver preferred his own accommodations, and Sakura still couldn't bring herself to step inside.

For eight years the house stood empty but for Rin, and the books and tools and inscriptions with which she defined her life. Inviting someone inside felt uncomfortably like letting them inside Rin herself.

Surprised that Shirou had not yet interrupted her tortured silence, she turned to him. His brow was deeply furrowed, his chin tucked in as he gazed silently at the gates. It seemed she wasn't the only one wishing tonight might last a little longer.

That galvanized her, pushed her into accepting what she so badly wanted. A few murmured words adjusted the Bounded Field, then she was tugging him by the sleeve.

"It's freezing out here. Come on, let's head in."

Shirou stumbled a few steps under the unintentional force of her pulling, then dug in his heels at the threshold of the gates. "Are you sure, Tohsaka?"

Yes, even though Rin knew it was wrong. Because she was still hiding from him, even though things were getting serious now. She didn't have a right to his company, not when her true identity as a magus hung as an unseen but iron barrier between them.

But even if she couldn't bring herself to be honest with him, she still wanted to open her doors to him. More than anything she'd wanted in a while. And unlike Shirou, Rin embraced her greed.

"Of course I'm sure. I can't have you walking your idiot self home in this cold," she said as she yanked his arm again.

"Then please excuse me." Shirou relented with an amused chuckle that should have irritated her, but instead stoked the heat that had been building inside her all evening.

It was ridiculous, the way Rin's fingers trembled as she unlocked her front door. Even more the breath she held while Shirou took in the russet carpet and the carved arabesques of the furnishings.

"Wow," he said as he hung up his coat. "Alright, yeah. A place like this definitely has a guest bedroom."

Rin groaned and massaged her temples. "Seriously, Shirou. Read a mood—"

Then she noticed the smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, you jerk!" She hit his arm, failing to suppress a smile of her own. "I'm going to make you pay for that tonight."

"As the lady wishes," he said, hazel eyes glinting before he pulled her in for a kiss. Rin was more than happy to reciprocate, moving her mouth hungrily against his, locked in his embrace as they stumbled into the hallway.

(The Tohsaka manor had several guest bedrooms, actually. But none of them were used that night).

Chapter Text

The whiskey burned in Shinji's throat as he downed the glass, but it was a pleasant heat. It tasted of victory, hard won and all the sweeter for it.

"Ahh, that's the stuff," he cheered, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. It was a comfortable but coarse gesture, one he would never do in front of his clients or colleagues in law. Thank fuck there was no need to keep up appearances around Shirou.

Speaking of Shirou. Shinji narrowed his eyes when he saw the man idly taking in the smoky atmosphere of the bar, with its long wooden counters and walls stacked with every hue and flavour of bottled sin. The man's own glass of whiskey, which Shinji had so graciously paid for, was entirely untouched.

"Come on, drink up," Shinji demanded, pushing the drink insistently towards the other. "I just won my first big case, and you're damn well going to celebrate it with me."

"Ahh, sorry. I was just thinking" said Shirou as his fingers closed around the glass. He threw the whiskey back, then gave a sharp wheeze. "Ugh, that's strong."

"Tch, I'm surrounded by lightweights," he sighed, even as he couldn't help but preen inside, old habits marking points against his friend and occasional (if oblivious) rival. "Although at least you showed up, though. Tell Ryuudou he'd better get his ass here next time."

"You might have more luck if you weren't asking a monk to drink alcohol," said Shirou mildly.

"Do you think I care?" declared Shinji, thumping his hand on the counter. "Everyone has a drink when Matou Shinji wins big."

"We still can. Issei did say you were welcome to drop by the temple tomorrow for tea," said Shirou in a neutral tone, but there was a hint of amusement dancing in the bastard's eyes. "Or coffee, if you prefer. I brought him a bunch of the Brazilian kind he likes."

So he finally visited the temple again, huh? Ryuudou must have been over the fucking moon.

Still, Shinji didn't appreciate jokes at his expense, even good-natured ones. They reminded him of far crueler ones, sneered in the dark.

"Coffee is not the same thing, as you idiots know perfectly well," he spat, before catching the bartender's eye and gesturing imperiously at his glass for a refill. "Just for that, you're paying for the next round."

Shirou grumbled, but reached for his wallet all the same. It made Shinji's eye twitch, even though he knew to expect it. Those doormat tendencies had driven him crazy back in school, when Emiya casually shrugged off everything Shinji worked so hard for. Not just his talent for archery, or the admiration of certain female peers, but just a basic sense of goddamn self-worth.

Some of the old bitterness crept over him as he watched his friend carefully count out the bills. Shinji's life had been a constant struggle to shore up the walls of his ego against the crushing morass of his failure as Matou heir. To see Shirou quietly embrace inferiority, bowing his head to every demand and every insult… it had really pissed him off.

Fresh ice clinked into his glass, followed by a generous splash of amber. The harsh warmth of the drink reminded him why he always gravitated back to the redhead anyway. As irritating as Shirou's selflessness could be, it was at least genuine. No mind games or subtle grabs for money or status by association, just a diffuse desire to make others happy. It made him the rare person Shinji could trust.

That was worth more than riches or ambition, though it had taken the War and the lifting of the old monster's shadow for Shinji to appreciate it. So when the idiot had declared that he would save people through law, Shinji had hung up his political aspirations to follow him. He had already lost too many important people in his life, and damned if he'd let another one slip away.

Not that he would ever say anything that sappy out loud, of course. A man had his pride.

Grinning, he held up his drink. "Come on, Shirou. Better get used to it, we're coming back here as soon as—"

A sharp buzz had the other man pulling out his cell phone. "Sorry. Give me just a moment."

Shinji glowered as he watched Shirou's fingers glide over the screen. So much for a man's pride if it could be so easily interrupted. "That better not be one of your clients."

The man bit his lip, looking almost troubled for a moment. Then he glanced at the screen again, and a small but affectionate smile pushed away the tension in his face.

"No. Just letting Tohsaka know I'll call her when I get home."

Shinji groaned. Even worse.

Irritably, he swirled the whiskey in his glass. "Really got her claws in you, huh," he said, not caring if he sounded a bit sullen.

"Shinji..." said the other warningly.

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. Drop it."

Frustration needled his spine, but there was no point arguing about it again. Even if he broke the rules and told Shirou just how fucked up magi were, even if the other didn't dismiss it as delusional ramblings, it still wouldn't sway the stubborn mutt. Once he had his teeth sunk in something, it was almost impossible to make him let go.

All the worse because to anyone who didn't know her better, the ice queen seemed to be having a positive influence on Shirou. The lines of his face seemed a little less drawn, his frame a little less gaunt. He still worked hard as nails, but he no longer haunted the office at absurd hours. Sakura practically gushed after he dropped by the flower shop to catch up.

He took another drink of whiskey. It helped drown out the mess of hopes and suspicions running through his head. "Hmph," he said after a moment. "At least you're here tonight. Means you must have tamed her at least a little bit."

A wry smile touched Shirou's lips. "She did say she wanted me to make more time for people."

Shinji paused, hand still clenched around his glass. That seemed entirely uncharacteristic of Tohsaka, a woman defined by the magus qualities of self-importance and possessiveness.

"Even me?" he asked wonderingly.

Because he had been entirely sure Tohsaka would never forgive him for what happened to Sakura. It would be too much like forgiving herself.

"Ahh, no. You'd be the exception." Shirou looked sheepishly down at his water. "She's actually kind of angry with me." Then he sat up, squaring his shoulders. "But you're my friend, and I wanted to be here."

"And she accepted it." Shinji gave a low whistle of admiration. "Holy shit. You really are taming that hellcat."

"Shinji!" sputtered Shirou, his face turning a suspicious shade of red. That made several images jump to mind, in various shades of nauseating and irritating.

Okay, maybe there was some lingering jealousy after all.

"As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted," he said, suddenly as eager as Shirou for a change of topic, 'You'd better get used to this bar. Kanazaki's court date is coming up, and we're getting sloshed as soon as you get him acquitted." He narrowed his eyes. "You'd better win, Shirou. I'm not having you taint the office's reputation, not when it reflects badly on me."

He'd meant it as encouragement, but his words always seemed to turn harsh when talking to Shirou. It was a bad habit left over from his most embarrassing years. At least his friend always got the underlying message.

Or so Shinji thought. But although Shirou's jaw set in its usual determination, the slant of his brows practically screamed distress to his friend's practiced eye.

"Alright, out with it," huffed Shinji. "What's wrong, Emiya?"

"Nothing," murmured Shirou, then sighed at the other's pointed look. "I just…. Kanazaki could have had his case heard earlier, if I'd gotten the research done more quickly. But it slipped away from me, so we had to go for a secondary filing date."

Shinji felt his shoulders hitch in frustration. Fuck, here we go again.

"So you feel guilty that you spent time with your people, because it meant you weren't able to meet an aggressive deadline. Look—"

"That's not it," Shirou interrupted, staring morosely into his whiskey. "I don't regret hanging out with Tohsaka and Issei and the others. I know that makes them happy." His hands tightened on the glass. "It's that spending time like that… it made me realize something. I don't feel bad about Kanazaki-san."

Shinji blinked.

"I promised I'd make the people around me smile, Shinji. As many as I could. That's the only way I can atone for everything." Shirou's face was the colour of bleached bones. "But when I was sitting with Tohsaka the other night… I really liked her smile. I wanted to see it more. Way more than Kanazaki-san's." Helplessly he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't have that right, to think that some smiles are more important—"

"That's normal, dumbass." Shinji's fingers closed around the other's shoulder before he could stop himself. "Of course you're going to like some people more than others. You think I give a shit if that idiot Hanabusa smiles? Fuck, I want to punch that asshole in the face."

Even Shirou couldn't quite suppress a smirk at that. Shinji's hatred of that particular prosecutor was both infamous and colorful.

"Look, it's fine to have a dream," Shinji continued after a beat. "Even if yours is idiotic. But not if you let it strip away what you actually want."

A sudden thirst brought the glass back to his lips. He drained it in a single swallow, and almost choked on the liquid heat.

"If I'd realized that when Sakura came to live with us" Shinji grumbled after the coughing fit elapsed, "instead of letting the old worm pull the wool over my eyes… fuck, we could have been there for each other. So neither of us would feel so worthless. Instead I took my frustrations out on her."

"The bruises," said Shirou reproachfully.

Shinji cursed against the familiar bitterness flooding his mouth, old shame and guilt and helpless rage. Because that had been only the smallest flame of the dumpster fire. And the worst thing of all was that part of him wanted to justify it, even now. To blame Sakura for letting him do it.

"Nevermind," he said, self-loathing grating his throat. "That was before the War. Things are different now."

They sat in uneasy silence for a few breaths, then Shirou coughed.

"Hey, Shinji? What do you mean by war?"

Shinji's hand clutched hard around his glass, only to find it empty. He barely hesitated before grabbing Shirou's whiskey and downing that instead. When he set it down, he glared at Shirou's shocked expression.

"You weren't drinking that anyway," he huffed, before reaching for his coat. "You know what? This place is lousy. Let's head over to Copenhagen."

They ended up staying at the second bar only for a half hour or so, long enough for a beer and for Shirou to greet old faces. The pleasant company was enough to lift Shinji's spirits a little, so he could savour future victories instead of dwelling on past regrets. And if he didn't believe it was enough to make Shirou forget his earlier slip, at least no more was said about it.

The iron gray of the trenchcoat fades among the swirls of winter mist. Sharp stones cut into Shirou's feet as he races after Kiritsugu's broad back, the chill in the air freezing his lungs. Desperately he lunges forward anyway, his fingers brushing but never catching as his old man is swallowed up. Don't leave me, don't—

— rasps the voice of her sister, a whisper under the writhing worms covering her prone form, here in the stench and the green darkness and no matter how Rin screams, no matter how her hands scrabble on stone, she can't reach—

— the woman on the television set, the one whose husband had died in the gas leaks, one of dozens. Her reddened eyes look away from the interviewer and directly at Shirou. "But I promised Fuji-nee," he mutters, reeling back from the accusation in her glare, "I promised her I'd obey the curfew." Hands grab the edge of the screen, the woman and all the others too, all the people he'd failed stumbling through, so many—

— children, rotting in the very foundations of this church. Rin's head spins, her body wracked in dry heaves as she takes in emaciated bodies and cracked skin, eyes dulled but still aware, and how could she call herself Second Owner when this horror was happening under her watch, under her nose, and Kirei is dead but he must be laughing and laughing and she can't breath—

— his lungs are choked full of smoke, flames licking at his hands and charring the shoes to his feet, there are screams for help all around him but he stumbles forward, then crushing weight throws him to the ground in blinding pain and he can't shake loose he can't escape—

— the foot pressing viciously down on her chest, pinning her helplessly against the ground, ribs creaking, Berserker's fiery mane scorching her face as she leers down at her. "I still haven't gotten the candies Master promised me, but I bet your guts will taste as sweet," she purrs. Her pupils are narrow slits, midnight black on gold, as black as—

— darkness at noon, the wound torn in the sky weeps suffering from every ragged edge, a black ring of fire overflowing his mind with dread and he's suffocating—

Shirou choked on empty air and darkness as he jolted up from the futon, drenched in sweat and heart hammering against his ribcage. Several sharp intakes of breath helped steady the adrenaline coursing through his veins, though it didn't do much to stop the trembling. Not with the nightmare still clutching at him, his eyes swimming with malignant shadows and red skies even after he flicked the light on.

A rattling sigh left his mouth as he collapsed back on the sheets. That dream again.

It had haunted him in the first months after the fire, turning every night into a cavalcade of horrors. He had woken more than once to Kiritsugu sitting by his bedside, his quiet presence soothing the screams still lodged in his throat. Over time, the nightmare had receded, an occasional unwelcome visitor rather than a constant invader. By the time Shirou entered law, it had almost disappeared entirely.

I guess tonight was its big encore. He ran his hand shakily through his hair. But that makes sense. After all, I still haven't atoned for that day. And worse, I was starting to think that maybe… maybe…

Stumbling down the hallway towards the kitchen for a glass of water, Shirou found himself pausing in the living room. The dark screen of the television set, barely visible in the gloom, stared back at him. As childish as it was, he couldn't shake the image of the screen hissing to life, and the pale clutching hands that would surely follow.

Fighting down another shiver, he went to get his water. As he drank it down, his eyes absently strayed over the counter. The small blue light of the phone charger flickered in the gloom. He stared at it for a long moment.

Tohsaka would lecture me about how silly I'm being, he thought with a fond shake of his head, imagining the gleam in her blue eyes and her wagging finger. 'You need to get a hold of yourself, Shirou. Otherwise there's no way you can keep up with me, you know?"

Before Shirou quite realized it, his fingers had already closed around the phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. But no. He wouldn't wake her up for his own comfort, however tempting—

The phone buzzed in his grip. In his shock, he fumbled it a few times before bringing it up to his ear. "Hello, this is Emiya."

"Hey, Shirou." His heart skipped a beat at hearing Tohsaka's voice, even if there was a nervous quality to it, like lime squeezed in smooth batter. He could almost hear her fidgeting on the other end.

"Is everything alright, Tohsaka?" he asked.

"Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be?" she snapped, her usual response to any suggestion that she couldn't take care of herself. Once, he might have found it insulting. Now that he understood it as a shield forged by years of loneliness, it was oddly endearing.

"You're calling me at three in the morning," he pointed out, letting a bit of amusement drip into his wry tone.

"I know that! I just… wanted to check on you, that's all." She clicked her tongue. "Make sure you weren't still at your desk, you workaholic."

"Not at my desk, I promise. But I'm glad you called," he said sincerely. "I was having trouble sleeping."

"Oh. You too, huh."

Shirou frowned as he set the glass back in the sink. It wasn't a surprise that Tohsaka had nightmares too. Not with the way she buried her face against his chest when they lay in bed together, warm and drowsy in the afterglow. As if his simple presence could ward off the night.

He opened his mouth to say something, some kind of encouraging words, when once again she beat him to it.

"I wish you were here," she said softly, before catching herself with a sharp cough. "Just for that lavender tea you make, understand?"

The herbal tea he'd brewed for her, when she'd whimpered herself awake in his arms.

"I can come over now, if you want it so badly," he said, stepping out into the darkened hallway and back to his room.

"Don't tempt me." The words were whispered so low that he almost didn't hear them over the subtle hum of the connection.

"Come again?" he said anyway, and felt his lips draw up in a small smirk.

"No, no, it's fine!" Tohsaka said hurriedly. "Just… talk to me for a little bit, okay?"

"Okay," said Shirou, smiling as he let his head fall back on his pillow. "Okay."

The setting sun painted the stone and wood of the Emiya house's exterior wall in orange-gold, the colour of a wintry hearth. It felt like a promise of good food and even better company as Rin followed its length towards the entrance. Built in the classical Japanese style, the residence was both elegant and larger than she had expected.

Far too large for a single occupant. Guilt chewed the corner of her mind as she adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder. Although spending the night together had become a regular occurrence, Rin always hooked things so they ended up at the manor. Ostensibly it was because she had food that needed eating, but really because she was thrilled to have Shirou in her house, walking in rooms and rummaging in cupboards she had so long been forced to keep secret. Her father would never have approved, and she was surprised by the burst of vicious joy that accompanied the expected shame.

Rin paused in front of the short stone path leading to the door. She had never really considered how Shirou felt about it, whether he longed for company among his own familiar things.

That changes, starting now.

At least she could take comfort that tonight the Emiya house wouldn't stand empty. Shirou had invited not just Rin, but also Ayako and Sakura over for dinner. And if it was a bit of a shame that her first visit to her boyfriend's place was effectively a double date, she couldn't fault the company. She nodded to herself. Tonight was going to be fun.

That thought lasted until the second Rin stepped onto the stone path, and the Bounded Field hit her senses.

The magical energy pulsed softly over her skin, inquisitive rather than hostile, nothing like the oppressive feel of her own wards or the noxious miasma surrounding the Matou house before the blaze had consumed it. But the fact that the Field existed at all…

Emiya lied to me. Rin's hands curled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms so hard that they stung. He's a magus. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her jaw wire-tight as she stood rigidly in place. Another magus living here the whole time, right in my territory, and I had no idea.

The laughter clawed up her throat, sharp and brittle. It cut when she swallowed it back down. Is that why he got close to me? To take advantage of my position as Second Owner? Does he think if I lo— ferociously she shook the word away, hating the way it snagged on her heart—if I think well of him, I'll let his deception slide?

Rin's fingers formed the shape of a gun as she stalked towards the door. I'm going to get my answers, even if I have to force each one out of his lying mouth. And then…

A vision floated in front of her, warm amber eyes and brows furrowed in gentle concern. Alright, maybe she wasn't entirely sure what came next, but she'd definitely make him sorry—

"Hey, Rin! Already here, huh?" called a cheerful voice behind her.

Pivoting, she found Ayako and Sakura coming down the street, punctual as always. Hastily she forced the scowl from her face as she waved back, then narrowed her eyes at the plastic bag swinging in Ayako's grip. Rather than a standard gift for the host, a small box of candies like Rin herself was carrying, the bulge looked suspiciously like a six-pack.

"Ahaha, you don't have to glare like that," said the teacher, misinterpreting the tension in Rin's jaw. "Emiya's a good guy, but he has terrible taste in beer. He doesn't drink enough to know the good stuff."

"It's fine. We're all adults here anyway," said Rin. A bit too curtly, but it was hard to maintain the mask with anger (surely not sorrow) gnawing her raw.

"Neesan, is everything alright?" asked Sakura quietly, as always far too perceptive for her sister's comfort. "What's upsetting you?"

Oh, nothing. Just that Shirou was a magus all along, and who knows what trap we're all walking into.

Her mouth twisted. She really should tell them about the field, but the coat of ice she had built over decades of lonely duties sealed her mouth. She would drag neither her sister nor her best friend into this mess.

So she firmly shook her head. "Nothing that can't wait," she said, and rapped on the door.

From the way Shirou's eyes lit up when he pushed it aside and saw them, he excelled at acting as much as he did at singing. Even with Rin scowling at him, and the Bounded Field humming in the air, his smile lacked all guile as he ushered them in.

The utter nerve of that man. And the delicious aroma drifting in the air, simmering beef and vegetables with a hint of soy, wasn't going to save him from her wrath. Certainly not.

"Please go ahead and have some tea," said Shirou, waving at the cups already laid out on the table. "I'll bring out the food."

"Let me help you, Shirou," said Sakura, already halfway towards the kitchen when the man gently blocked her.

"No, no, please sit down—"

"I insist, you've already done so m—"

"Just let it be, Sakura. It's his territory, after all," said Rin, placing brittle emphasis on the word and a challenge in the stare she levelled at him.

Shirou gave her an odd look before turning back to Sakura. "You came all the way out here. Please, let me treat you like a guest for once."

"Alright," smiled Sakura after a moment's hesitation. "Then, please excuse the disturbance."

She calmly took her seat at the table along with the other two. But for all the serenity in her face, she still managed to be the one pouring and handing out tea. There might be a message there, or then again there might not. Rin's emotions were too jumbled up to make sense of it.

A cough snapped Rin's gaze over to Ayako, who was looking at her intently, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. But before she could say anything, Shirou emerged from the kitchen with several bowls of miso soup. It was soon followed by nikujaga served over white rice, the thinly sliced steak and hearty potatoes braised to perfection.

It was unfair. Shirou's cooking was excellent at the best of times, and from the pleased murmurs of her friends, Rin could guess he'd really outdone himself. But it was impossible to enjoy it. Not with the Bounded Field tickling obnoxiously at the base of her brain, a constant reminder that turned the flavours dull and lifeless on her tongue.

"Delicious," said Ayako between bites, her chopsticks working at a furious pace. "I really missed your cooking."

"You sound like Fuji-nee," smiled Shirou, as he and Sakura picked more sedately at their own meals. He often paused between mouthfuls, his eyes bright with quiet satisfaction as he watched his friends enjoy his food.

Then faltered upon seeing her largely untouched bowl. "Is it no good, Tohsaka? Should I make you something else?"

There was no offense in his tone, only the upset of a host that thought they had failed their guest. No, more than that, if she was correctly reading the affection underlined by the deep furrow in his brow.

Guilt sunk its claws deep into Rin's shoulders before she managed to shake it off. It was just more attempted manipulation, and she would treat it as such.

"No, this is fine," she said, lifting her chin to look him directly in the eye. "A kitchen is like a workshop. It would be graceless not to accept its fruits."

Again the emphasis on the word, phrasing stilted enough to call attention to it. Again Shirou only looked puzzled as she took a careful bite of stewed carrot. She couldn't sense any enchantment on it, but alchemy could be very subtle.

Rin glanced up to see Ayako eagerly refilling her bowl with rice, and felt shame burning in her cheeks. This was stupid. If Shirou wanted to poison her, he'd had easier opportunities before now. She really should enjoy the meal, especially since it might be the last she'd ever eat with him. But try as she might, Rin could barely taste it under the blood roaring in her ears.

She stayed mostly silent through dinner, struggling to rein in the urge to confront the man then and there, while the conversation flowed awkwardly around her. Shirou's worried glances were ignored, as were Ayako's little jabs and Sakura's deepening frown. By the time dessert appeared, a simple but delicious-looking castella cake, Rin's nails were pressed hard into the table edge.

When Shirou began gathering up the empty bowls, she flew to intercept.

"No, no, you did all the cooking and serving. It's only right that someone else does the dishes" she said, tugging them from his hands. Then she added, without any real hope of a different result, "Think of it as an equivalent exchange."

The stubborn man looked set to argue, his shoulders squaring the way they always did when he dug in his heels, when Sakura daintily cleared her throat.

"What Neesan means is that she'll clean up so that you can help me with something," she said, resting her hands in her lap. "I'm having some trouble with one of my suppliers, and I could use some legal advice."

Rin blinked, pausing in gathering up the cutlery. That was the first she'd heard of it.

Before she could say as much, Ayako appeared at her side and stacked up the bowls. "That's right," she said cheerfully. "You guys talk it over while Rin and I work off our debt for the meal."

"I don't know," said Shirou doubtfully, scratching his cheek, "It's not the kind of law I specialize in."

The look on his face screamed sincerity, the honest regret of someone who wanted to help but was afraid they'd make things worse. It made Rin's boil, that he could look like that while lying about matters that really were dangerous.

"Indeed," she said, her smile sharp with spite, "You should really leave that to someone who knows what he's—hey!"

The spoons almost fell from her hands as Ayako dragged her into the kitchen.

"Ayako!" she hissed, "What was that for?"

A drying cloth smacked her in the head.

"I'll wash, you dry," said the other woman, turning on the faucet.

Rin was sorely tempted to throw in the towel—literally—but for all her friend's boisterousness, she rarely acted without reason. Gritting her teeth, she dutifully wiped the dishes and waited.

She didn't have to wait for long. They'd only done a few bowls when Ayako glanced over her shoulder. Seemingly satisfied that the other two were engrossed in their discussion, she shot Rin a pitying look.

"You can stop embarrassing yourself now, Rin," she said. "He really doesn't know anything about magecraft."

Rin's grip tightened on the plate in her hands. "That's not possible," she said. "A Bounded Field doesn't appear from nowhere. And don't try to tell me Taiga got El-Melloi the Second to put it up. It feels nothing like one of his."

Ayako shrugged as she added more soap to her brush. "Sakura said it's been in place as long as she's known Shirou. She figures his adoptive father must have set it up, but never told him anything about it."

Kiritsugu, trying to protect his son even after he left. A field that warned against malice, but let good intentions and smiling faces into the house. Rin's thoughts strayed to the wards of her own house, which treated all outsiders as threats. Envy briefly tightened her chest, before realization hit.

"No, that doesn't make any sense," she spat. "Why would Kiritsugu set up an alarm, when the idiot living here has no way to know what it means?" She slammed the pot down on the drying rack, ignoring Ayako's wince. "And no magus would abandon their heir without training them. It's just too irresponsible!"

"Maybe he wasn't looking for an heir, Rin. Maybe he genuinely wanted to help a boy that had no one." Ayako's lips pressed together when the other gave a snort of derision. "Are magi that cold, that you can't imagine one acting from altruism?"

"How altruistic were the magi you saw during the War, Ayako?" Rin's voice sounded strained to her own ears. "And the Clocktower isn't much better."

"What about El-Melloi? Do you think he's got sinister designs too?"

"El-Melloi the Second, he's really particular about that." A smile flitted across Rin's face. "He's the rare exception, despite being a Lord. I wouldn't work with him otherwise."

Ayako's look was as steely as the grip with which she snagged the cloth, entirely forgotten in the other woman's hands. She let out a frustrated sigh. "If you can give El-Melloi the Second the benefit of the doubt, why can't you do the same for Shirou? You can't just go around thinking the worst of people, Rin."

Especially your partner. The words hung unspoken in the air, but pressed heavily down on Rin. Her friend was right, of course she was right. Trust was the rock that relationships were built on, she'd observed enough couples fall apart over the years to know that.

But she'd also seen what happened when trust was blindly given in the name of love.

Mother stared out the window long after the car had pulled away. Rin stood silently at her side, feeling guilty because she couldn't tell a joke to cheer her up, not when it made her think of who wouldn't be there to giggle with them.

Eventually Mother looked down and smiled at her. "I know it's hard, but your father thought long and hard about this. It's for the best." She straightened and dusted off her long skirt. "Why don't you help me make some pancakes, Rin?"

Rin couldn't remember anything about the pancakes, or the rest of that day. But she had never forgotten the glass in her mother's smile, and how close it had looked to shattering.

"Oi, Rin." It was the hint of worry in Ayako's tone, more than the clear disapproval, that pulled Rin back to the present. "This is where you're supposed to lecture me on how naive I am, you know?"

She let out a sigh. "No, you're right. I need to know more before I accuse Shirou of anything."

Turning her back on her frowning friend, Rin put a tremor in her legs as she walked towards the dining room, where her boyfriend and her sister were comparing dessert recipes.

I'm not my mother. I won't let the past chain me down. I won't make her mistake, or let fear of that mistake poison me. Her hands balled into fists at her side. But I won't walk blindly into the future, either. Even if it's unfair to Shirou, I need to satisfy myself.

She let her shoulders slump a bit as she took her seat at the table, let the breath catch in her chest. A flicker of satisfaction ran through her when Shirou's brow knitted in concern, just strong enough to resist the accompanying guilt.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

"Ahh, it's fine," she said, slowing her customary wave of dismissal so it looked subtly pained. "Don't worry about it. More importantly, were you able to help out Sakura?"

He didn't budge, as she knew he wouldn't. "Tohsaka. It's troublesome if you're not honest."

A tumult of emotions bubbled up in Rin's brain. More guilt, but also indignation for his potential lies, joy that he worried for her, and something hotter and deeper that made her taste sunshine even as it cut her lungs until she couldn't breath.

"... I'm not feeling all that well," she said, shivering as she realized there was more truth to that statement then she'd planned.

Rough but warm fingers caught her hand, as Shirou rubbed his thumb reassuringly over hers. "You've seemed off all night," he said gently. "Why don't you lie down and rest?"

That was exactly the result Rin wanted. So why did her chest feel so tight as he helped her to her feet? The knowing look on Sakura's face wasn't helping.

"Sure, if you have a spare room," she made herself say, tongue thick in her mouth.

Shirou shook his head. "I haven't aired any of them out for ages. You can have mine."

Her face grew hot. "No, I don't want to impose—eep!"

For the second time that night, Rin found herself pulled along by someone else. But while Ayako had contented herself with grabbing her arm, Shirou picked her up in a princess carry. She had just enough time to shoot her smiling sister a warning look before he was bringing her down the hallway, shifting his arms around her for a more comfortable grip.

And it was comfortable, and a bit thrilling too. Rin found herself relaxing against the heat of his chest before remembering she was suspicious of him. He didn't say anything when she stiffened in his grasp, only eased her down on the futon.

"Sorry. I can change the sheets."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm sure it's just a spell," she said as she settled in, though she had every intention of staying the night. For her investigation, of course.

Shirou looked dubious. "Okay. Then I'll stay and keep an eye on you."

"No, really, I'll be fine in a moment. Go look after your guests." Before she could stop herself, she added, "Thank you."

He lingered a moment longer at the door, then he was gone. Rin rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled of him, sandalwood and coffee and a pleasant hint of musk. She should really be thinking about where to look first, once night had fallen and the coast was clear, but her thoughts felt muddled. She needed a moment to clear them.

Closing her eyes, she let herself drift.

When she opened them again, the room was pitch black. When she muffled a groan and forced herself to sit up, she heard only the soft hum of appliances and the whisper of wind in the trees outside.

Frustration and embarrassment burned in Rin's face. Some brilliant magus she was, falling asleep when the game was afoot. Just how many precious hours of darkness had she already wasted?

Stepping off the futon, she frowned when her bare feet slid against wood. Hadn't she been wearing stockings? A quick tug at her sleeve confirmed she was wearing pyjamas, though they didn't quite fit her frame.

Probably an old pair of Taiga's. Her heart gave a little skip. Did he change me himself, or did he leave it to Sak—

She bit her lip. Completely frivolous thinking. Unworthy of a magus. A whispered incantation, and the tip of her finger flared with blue light. You have an investigation to conduct, Rin. Focus.

Her senses were on high alert as she moved through the house like a second shadow, ignoring the winter chill biting through the thin pyjamas. She rifled through closets and pulled open drawers, always pausing to check for traps and wards, carefully returning things to how she had found them.

But as meticulously as she searched, Rin found no trace of magecraft outside the Bounded Field. The closets yielded no alchemical reagents or polished scales, only kimonos and spare blankets. The shed in the back, the only place on the property closed off enough to really host a magus workshop, was filled to the brim with old kettles and instruments and other bits of junk. The faint traces of the magic circle she could barely make out under the stacked boxes raised a lot of questions, but dust and damage made it clear it hadn't seen use in years. Whatever use Kiritsugu had made of it, he hadn't seen fit to share it with his son.

With a sigh, Rin mentally filed it away for a closer inspection later and continued her investigation of the main building. The study's shelves overflowed with books, mostly law texts and maintenance guides, but there were also travel books and literature, a surprising amount of them in German. She pulled one down that looked particularly worn, the pages loose in their binding. Poems by Goethe, she noted as she flipped it open.

There was a sprig of unfamiliar white flowers tucked inside, their small petals withered with age. Underneath she could make out an inscription, written in awkward cursive.

To my dearest Kiritsugu, in the hopes that it brings colour to your world as you have illuminated mine.

Swallowing hard, Rin carefully closed the volume and put it back on the shelf. She was intruding on something intensely private, far worse than snooping through linens and cabinets.

When she returned to the empty hallway, she heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall. There were still rooms left to search, and that dusty magic circle to worry about, but the instinct to never leave a job half-done yielded to the renewed prickling of her conscience.

Rin let her steps carry her back to the bedroom, only to find them pausing in front of another door. One of the guest rooms, she knew from earlier when she had briefly poked in to make sure that Shirou was asleep. She had no business there but she slid open the door anyway.

He looked peaceful in his slumber, his red hair adorably mussed and his brow soft for once, his breath punctuated by silly little whistles that made her smile. No nightmares tonight, she thought approvingly. A sudden urge to join him gripped her, to lie down by his side and bury into his arms, savour his familiar heat and scent.

No. Reluctantly she pulled away and returned to her (well, his) room, letting herself flop back onto the futon. Some dignity had to be maintained, and there was little in sneaking in to curl up with a man she was just suspecting of treachery. Now she just had to figure out how to extract herself in the morning, with as much elegance as could be salvaged under the circumstances.

It took a while before sleep finally pulled her under again.

Rin had survived a Grail War and several Clocktower plots, but somehow Taiga's stern face still made her want to scramble for cover. The jovial demeanour had melted away, revealing the steely glint the woman reserved for delinquent students and straying yakuza. Although Rin had witnessed it on occasion, this was her first time being its target. Only natural arrogance and years of practiced subterfuge let her keep her cool under it.

She sipped her tea in a pretence of indifference, even as she cursed Shirou in her mind. Alright, it was entirely understandable that he'd needed to leave for work. Perhaps a bit less that he'd insisted she stay behind and rest, as if she were some fragile flower, but she couldn't risk setting her entire act ablaze by putting him in a headlock. And the okayu he'd left for her on the stove had admittedly been both thoughtful and tasty.

But why, for heaven's sake, did he have to go and ask Taiga to drop by?

The older woman leaned forward, her shadow falling over table and prey alike, and the interrogation proper began.

"What are your intentions toward Shirou?"

Getting down to brass tacks immediately, hmm? She really is a beast.

Folding her hands around the cup, Rin gave the other woman a look of reproach. "Please be gentle with me, sensei. I'm a sick woman, after all."

Taiga snorted. "After six years of teaching, I can sniff out any delinquency under the sun. You're not fooling anyone, Tohsaka." She slapped a palm down. "Come on, out with it. What are you really doing here?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Rin primly.

"Staying at his house while he's gone, hmm?" The cat-like smile that spread over the former teacher's face was almost comforting in its familiarity. "The perfect chance for a little snooping."

Mornings weren't good for Rin, and that was without all the stress that recent events had poured into her veins. Surely that was the only reason she surrendered to the gleam in those brown eyes.

"Okay, I'll admit it," she sighed. "I sensed the Bounded Field, and I had some questions."

"And you didn't just ask Shirou about it?" Her interrogator's disapproving shake of the head made Rin's nerves itch.

"I don't trust easily," she said, fingers tightening unconsciously around the ceramic. "And… I think, on some level, I needed him to be keeping a secret from me." She exhaled sharply. "Because maybe then, it would excuse all of mine."

Taiga looked at her solemnly for a moment, seemingly weighing her words. "Secrets, huh." Then she pointed an accusing finger. "I knew it! You're scheming against my innocent little brother!"

Memories of a recent and rather vigorous evening rose up unbidden in Rin's brain. "There's nothing innocent about that man!" she protested.

"Aha!" Taiga's gleeful smirk had to be illegal in several countries. "So you did do the deed!"

Rin recoiled from the other's leering face, her cheeks burning hot. "Don't just come out and say it! Tch, what kind of teacher are you?"

"A retired one." The smugness radiating from her grin put even a certain obnoxious blonde's to shame. "The rules no longer apply."

Taiga drained the rest of her cup in one big gulp. When she set it down again, her stern expression had returned. "But it sounds like things have gotten serious. And that means you need to take responsibility."

"He's the guy here, isn't he?" Rin grumbled.

"And you're the magus." Taiga closed her eyes and sighed. "That boy is so much trouble. Just when I thought I'd kept him away from the clutches of all the things that go bump in the night, he goes and dates one."

"Excuse me?" bristled Rin. "And I don't want to hear that from you! Not when you went and married El-Melloi the Second!"

"Nyaah, but that's different!" said the brunette, cradling her own face in a look of exaggerated bliss. "That was a maiden's heart melting in the heat of love!"

Rin sighed in exasperated fondness. There's nothing maidenly here, but she's certainly lively. I can see why she won that gloomy man over.

"You definitely have him wrapped around your little claw, at any rate," she said as she refilled the cups.

"I know, right— wait, what's that about a claw?" burst Taiga, scowling at Rin's smirking face. She huffed for a bit, then turned serious again. "But Tohsaka, listen. I walked into the Moonlit World with open eyes. Kiritsugu told me a little, and Waver made sure I knew the rest before long. Shirou deserves the same."

"I…" Rin chewed her nail, staring down into her tea. "Where would I even begin?"

"A bright girl like you can figure it out." Taiga shrugged. "Or you could always give up magecraft."

RIn's nostrils flared at the suggestion. "Unacceptable," she growled. "Who would look after things then?"

And I don't want to give up jewel craft. It's a pain sometimes, but I've sunk more than two decades into it. All those sacrifices, and not just mine. I won't let them all go to waste.

Taiga looked entirely unperturbed. "Good. Then I won't have to hear Waver complain about irresponsible students," she nodded sagely, before frowning. "But something has to give, Tohsaka."

The tiger was right, of course. Rin had been telling herself the same for weeks now. But that didn't make the task any less daunting.

"Okay," she said, swallowing down her anxiety. "I'll tell him. But at my own pace, and in my own way."

Taiga didn't look entirely satisfied as she reached for the teapot again. "I guess that'll do for now."

Rin gave an irritated sigh. "Right. Am I off the hook, then?"

"Not so fast." Taiga's face lit up in a way that was equally charming and suspicious. "Shirou said you're a pretty good cook."

"So?" asked the magus, although she already had an idea of where this was going.

Her hands were seized and given a pleading squeeze. "I haven't had breakfast yet!" said Taiga, looking at her pitifully. "Make me something, okay?"

"Absolutely not!" snapped Rin, tugging her hands back. It took more force than anticipated.

"Come on, you owe me for the advice!" whined Taiga.

"No! And it's graceless for a grown woman to beg!"

Brown eyes glinted as they appraised the magus for weakness. "If you do, I won't tell Shirou you were faking sick."

For a few moments, there was silence but for the ticking of the clock and the grinding of Rin's teeth.

"Omelette rice," she spat at last, getting up from the table and stalking into the kitchen. "Nothing fancier. And I hope you choke on it!"

Taiga merely grinned.

Chapter Text

Rin meant to tell him. She really did. But once again, fate took the decision from her hands.

Shirou frowned at the iron gates of the manor, then glanced at his phone. Still no response from Rin, and he was starting to worry. They were scheduled to spend the afternoon baking for Sakura's holiday party the next day, and it wasn't like his girlfriend to flake. Especially when she'd been open about her anticipation for once, rather than hiding it under her usual veneer of aloofness.

"Come on, Tohsaka," he sighed, pressing the call icon for the third time.

Again, he got nothing but the dial tone. Sighing, he shifted his grip on the grocery bag, hoping to restore a little warmth to fingers numbed by the cold, then glanced at the high windows half-hidden behind trees.

Maybe she's got her head buried in a book. It wouldn't be the first time.

Fortunately she had given him a key for exactly such eventualities. That didn't stop him from feeling a bit weird as he let himself in through the front door. A home was an intensely personal place. Even if familiarity had dimmed the ominous chill he'd felt in his early days around the manor, he still wasn't entirely comfortable being here without its owner present.

"Tohsaka?" he called out hopefully. "Are you home?"

Silence answered him. Glancing about, he found her shoes on the rack and her coat and scarf up on the hook. The first whisper of unease shivered down his spine as he changed his boots for slippers and walked into the main hall. The air felt unusually heavy as he breathed in a faint scent of ozone and metal.

Squaring his shoulders, he tried again. "Tohsaka?"

He didn't see any signs of disturbance. The antique wood furniture stood as tall as ever, the long drapes pulled open to let in the sun. Tohsaka had probably just fallen asleep on a book in the library again.

That didn't stop his pace from picking up as he searched the rooms with increasing urgency. The library held nothing but dust motes spinning in a sunbeam. Nothing in the bedrooms, the kitchens, the bathrooms and parlour room. Unease sharpened into distress when he found her phone abandoned on the desk in the study.

"Maybe she had a work emergency," he reasoned to himself over the rapid beating of his heart. "Or maybe Sakura needed her — but no, she would have left a note…"

Shirou was pacing past the basement door when the scent of old metal intensified. If he closed his eyes, he could have imagined himself elbow-deep in one of Homurahara's ancient radiators.

He sighed in relief. Tohsaka must be downstairs sorting through old storage or something. Western houses used basements for that instead of storage sheds, right?

His hands brushed against exposed stone as he made his way down the stairs, searching for a light switch as he squinted in the darkness. By the sliver of light cast from the upstairs hallway, he could make out exercise equipment and piles of dusty books. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet the whole space felt oppressive. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck with each step.

Then his fingers finally scraped against plastic. The ceiling bulb flickered on, and Shirou's eyes widened in horror.

"Tohsaka!"

His girlfriend lay unmoving on the stone floor, sprawled on a crimson circle. The complicated pattern of lines and glyphs made his eyes ache and set his head pounding. He didn't need the sharp coppery tang to know it was drawn in blood. Magic, but no time to worry about that now.

Shirou rushed to her side, stumbling over crystals and bits of ash. "Please be alright," he whispered low in his throat as he frantically grabbed her wrist. "Please don't be… "

His throat caught on the unspoken word as he pressed his thumb along the vein. A wave of relief crashed over him when he felt the pulse, faint but definitely present. Her body was cold when he encircled her in his arms, but she was alive. He could breathe again.

"Thank god…"

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, kneeling on stone, burying his nose in raven hair that smelled of smoke instead of its usual sweetness. Eventually he stumbled upstairs, carrying her as carefully as if she were made of spun glass. Halfway down the corridor to the living room, he heard a grunt and looked down to see blue eyes blinking blearily up at him.

"Shirou?" rasped Tohsaka, her voice dragged over gravel. "... what are you doing here?"

He gave her a shaky smile. "Cleaning up after you, as always." Before she could do more than huff, he pressed his forehead against hers. "Don't scare me like that."

"Y.. yeah," she muttered. "I guess that was g-graceless of me, wasn't it."

Shirou carried her into the living room and placed her gently on the couch, tucking a cushion under her head. Then he pulled up a chair and waited. Now that the initial rush of adrenaline had dissipated, he could feel pain blossoming in his knees where he'd smashed them on the floor.

Tohsaka weakly rested a hand against her temple, seemingly trying to collect her thoughts as her breathing settled. Her gaze was resolutely fixed on the ceiling.

"What happened?" she asked after a time.

"I found you unconscious in the basement," he said quietly.

She bit her lip. "That's impossible. The wards should have kept you out—" Her hand fell to her side as she groaned. "Except I attuned them to you last month."

Shirou digested this, his gaze straying over red curtains and the polished wood of the furniture. "Is that why the house seems friendlier?"

She nodded, jaw tight. Her fingers fidgeted with the ends of her hair. But at least the sunlight had returned some colour to her face, a welcome change from the deathly pallor that had confronted him in the gloom of the basement. Still…

"Are you okay?" he asked, touching his fingers carefully to her shoulder.

A small smile ghosted across her lips. "I'm fine now. I just underestimated how much power the spell would pull from me."

They sat in silence for a few breaths, before Tohsaka turned her head to face him.

"Don't you have anything to ask me?"

He shrugged. "Of course I do, but I figure you'll tell me when you're ready." He exhaled, holding her gaze now that she was finally looking at him. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"You really are too good a person," she murmured, then gave him a wry smile. "This is my real family business, Shirou. The legacy I inherited."

Odd pieces that had been nagging Shirou for a while were clicking into place. Tohsaka's caginess about her work, the bitter herbs he could sometimes taste on her skin, and most of all the lonely but familiar cast of her shoulders when she turned away.

"So you're a mage too," he said.

Tohsaka coughed violently on empty air before staring at him. "You… what do you know about that?"

Shirou sighed as a shadow settled over him. But this time he was the one sitting in the chair, leaning protectively over his charge.

"The day my old man visited me in the hospital and offered to adopt me, he also told me he was a mage." He answered the grim line of Tohsaka's mouth with a wistful smile. "It sounded like the coolest thing ever. I begged him to teach me magic. How to summon a dragon, or turn invisible, or heal a missing leg. Anything."

"You believed him, just like that?" asked Rin, arching a skeptical brow.

He nodded. "Kiritsugu had this look in his eye when he said it, and I just knew he was telling the truth. I can't describe why, but I would have believed the earth was made of pudding, if he said so looking like that."

"You really are an idiot," she said, without any heat. "So what did he teach you?"

"Nothing." Shirou closed his eyes. "No matter how often I pestered him, he refused point blank to tell me anything more. Then he left." The memory of waving him off, watching that gaunt back disappear down the front path, made his chest tighten. "I tried to find out more on my own, but I never found any traces. No books, and no one to ask."

He scratched his cheek. "Until now, I guess."

"He did you a favour," sighed Tohsaka. "Magecraft isn't a path to happiness." She sat up with some difficulty. "Could you get me some water?"

"I… yeah. Just a moment."

As loathe as he was to let her out of his sight, he could understand her thirst. When he returned with the glass, she downed it in greedy gulps, coughing when her haste sent the liquid down the wrong passage. Then she slumped back against the couch and, in a low monotone, answered all the unspoken questions she must have sensed pushing their way onto his tongue.

Tohsaka told him about the Moonlit World, and the various entities that lived in the shadows between rationality and superstition; explained magecraft and magic, and the difference between the two; dripped bitterness as she spoke about magus organizations and bloodlines, and the endless search for an impossible dream manifested in the Root.

"... and as Second Owner of the spiritual land Fuyuki is built on, it's my job to administer the whole mess," she finished, gazing morosely into the unlit fireplace. "But even without that responsibility, I was twisted from the start, broken by contradiction with every breath. That's what it means to be a magus."

Shirou's brain felt curiously blank as he slumped in his chair, the interlocking gears of his thoughts ground to a halt. He heard everything his girlfriend was saying with a corner of his brain, and distantly he knew he should be feeling something about the horizon opening up before him. Wonder, horror, perhaps a touch of vindication. But spells and magic circuits and vampires all seemed distant, faraway dreams and nightmares. It was difficult to focus on them.

"And… I'm sorry about keeping this all from you." Tohsaka's voice drifted in the heavy silence, her hands clutching at the couch pillows. "That night, at the reunion… I knew I should have kept my distance. Just a polite greeting, and you'd forget about me again."

No. The Moonlit World might be a distant thing, but not the woman in front of him. Aloof, demanding, irascible and sweet by unpredictable turns, but undeniably and warmly real.

"I never forgot—"

She waved a finger in front of his lips. "It's rude to interrupt when a lady is apologizing, you know." Her laughter at his disgruntled face was strained, scraped out from her exhaustion. "Okay, maybe we didn't forget, not fully. But it was a small thread. A few more years and it would have snapped entirely."

Reluctantly Shirou nodded, knowing she might be right even as his heart violently rebelled, insisting that he would still have found his way to this impossible woman, the one his arms itched to embrace and pull tight and never let go.

"But I wanted to see you," said Tohsaka, fists balled in her lap, face flushed pink. "Even when I told myself it was just a foolish fancy. Even though I knew I was lunging after a ghost of when the world still made sense. I wanted to see you." Another brittle laugh as her shoulders shrank in on themselves. "And I've always been greedy. So again — I'm sorry, Shirou. "

She tilted her head down and away, as if expecting him to leave. Shirou hesitated for a moment, irrationally worried she might shatter if he touched her. Then he gathered his courage and took her hand, feeling a flutter in his chest when she started but did not pull away.

"I'm glad you were. Greedy, I mean." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. "I guess that makes me the same."

She snorted through her fatigue. "Don't flatter yourself."

They sat in almost comfortable silence again, their hands still clasped together. Then Shirou cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be wiping my mind now? Kiritsugu said something about that."

"I know where you live." She waved her free hand dismissively. "I'll come sort you out later."

He chuckled as her expression shifted between irritation and affection, then looked at her seriously again. "Are there any other mages in Fuyuki?"

"Magi," she corrected. "A few. Sakura is one, but she wants nothing to do with it."

"I see. And…" he hesitated, but forced himself to ask even though he suspected the answer from the dripping crimson in the basement. "Have you ever hurt someone? With magic, I mean."

The blue of her eyes turned icy with defiance. "I have. More than once."

He forced himself to hold her gaze, to plunge into that ice. Hard, but riddled with cracks, and underneath… "It hurt you," he said simply.

She snapped her head to the side, pulled her hand away as if his touch was fire. "This is what I do, Shirou. This is who I am."

His skin tingled where it had slid up against hers. But more than that, the sight of her crumpled face was piano wire around his neck. He wasn't going to tolerate it a moment longer.

Taking a deep breath, he cupped Tohsaka's face and shifted it to look at him. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip even as she glared at him.

"I get it," he interrupted her as she opened her mouth to yell at him. "You look after Fuyuki and you keep the people safe from magical threats. So you're a guardian."

Tohsaka blanched, then furiously shook her head. "It's not altruism, Shirou," she spat. "It's about keeping my family's claim on the territory. Everything I do is self-interested."

"Even if that's the reason, you're still protecting people. And I know you're a good person—"

She sputtered, her cheeks a flaming wreck of scarlet.

"—so you haven't been using magic to exploit people. I'm sure you could if you wanted to." He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Tohsaka sucked in a sharp breath. Then she flew at him, pummeling her fists into his chest with surprising energy.

"Hey! Tohsaka, you—"

"Idiot!" she burst out, not slowing the pace of her blows. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!"

Then the punches gave way to a hug around his waist as she threw herself into his arms. He almost jerked away in surprise, then relaxed and hugged her back. Wrapping himself around her protectively, he stroked her hair as he waited for her shoulders to stop shaking. For all that Tohsaka snapped with light and fire, her frame felt delicate as it pressed against his own.

"It must have been lonely," he said once she'd relaxed a bit, her breathing steadier. "I'm sorry."

A growl sounded against his cheeks. "Don't you dare apologize for something you couldn't have known about. Not here, not now."

His hands slid down raven tresses to grip her shoulders, pulling her back a bit so they could look at each other. "Okay, but at least let me help you. I don't know if I can learn magecraft or anything, but—"

"Shut up." Her grip tightened on him again. "You already are."

"That's where I killed Kuzuki-sensei."

Shirou followed the slender arc of Tohsaka's finger as she pointed down the cliffside, towards the temple grounds. In the light of day, with monks and visitors milling about the stone paths, it was hard to imagine it as a scene of bloodshed. But his girlfriend's voice held the bite of hard iron.

"Caster was draining energy from people all over Fuyuki," she continued, her shoulders stiff against the wind. "They only fell unconscious, so the Church could still cover it up."

"The gas leaks," he remembered aloud, and Tohsaka nodded.

"Yeah. But once the fighting really started, it was a matter of time until she pulled too hard and someone died. And I had selfish reasons too. I couldn't afford to let her grow any more powerful."

"Was that part of the War?"

She visibly tensed, her eyes snapping suspiciously over his face. "How… did Sakura tell you that?"

"Shinji." The storm gathering on her brow made him hurriedly add, "I don't think he meant to, though. It just sort of slipped out."

Huffing, Tohsaka pivoted round to face the temple again. "But yes. That happened during the Holy Grail War. The fifth one, and God help me, the last."

"Holy Grail… like the cup? I don't understand."

Tohsaka's laughter was a jagged thing, scraping every one of his nerves raw. But he had to know, even if it meant hurting them both. Because this was it. This was the shadow that lurked beneath her eyes even on the sunniest mornings, the claw that had snuffed out the spark he had so admired. And if there was any chance he could help lift it from her, even a little bit...

"Tell me."

She did. Hesitantly at first, but then the words came pouring out in a flood, Tohsaka's mouth spitting them out as if they'd burn if she held them back a second longer. Seven spirits drawn from fevered legends painted in stars and crimson, seven masters to walk a path of thorns and lies, all killing each other over the promise of their hearts' desire.

Although Tohsaka didn't linger on the details, the savagery bled out from between the lines, roiling Shirou's gut until he thought he might vomit. The scars he'd seen on her body but resisted asking about, the faded crackling of old burns and the line that cut silver down her lower back, made terrible sense now. And this had all been going on while he'd sat idly in the living room, watching the news and reassuring himself he'd make a difference through law, or maybe politics.

He'd been a fool.

"Stop that," said Tohsaka, glaring at him, and he realized he'd said the last part aloud. "Idiot. Didn't you tell me you chose your path? That you'd stick to it no matter what?" She scoffed. "Or do you want all the people who desperately need a reasonable lawyer to end up with vermin like Matou instead?"

His brow furrowed. "But—"

"There's nothing you could have done to stop it," she said firmly, though not without sympathy. "You were a teenager, Shirou, and a mundane one at that."

Once, he might have argued with her. Part of him still wanted to, wanted to insist that he could at least have tried. But the vision of Taiga's eyes brimming with angry tears, the same that had nudged him from a police uniform to a suit jacket, sealed his mouth.

Instead, he picked at the coarse bark of a tree as he cast his mind back to his second to last year at Homurahara, and the week where so many things had abruptly changed. Kuzuki-sensei's sudden 'transfer' had faded into the background for his younger self, whose attention had been focused on the sharp changes in certain personalities around him. Speaking of which…

"The War. Shinji was a part of it." He snapped off a piece of bark, turning it over in his hand. "Were Sakura and Mitsuzuri, too?"

Tohsaka was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "You're smarter than you look. Yes, they were, although Ayako should never have been." From the way she chewed her lip, Shirou could guess there were some personal regrets there. "They lost their command seals, but at least they escaped with their lives."

The way she phrased that… "Did you win?"

"I did," she nodded, and despite it all, a flicker of pride danced in her eyes before they shaded again. "But without the Einzberns, there was no lesser grail for the ritual. That damn priest had a substitute," she said through gritted teeth, her hands twisting in her scarf, "But it… he couldn't take the strain. The Grail never formed. No, there was never a chance that it could."

"Then the War—"

"We fought and killed each other for nothing, Shirou. Not even dust."

Her eyes were dark as she stared down at the temple. If she pulled on her scarf any tighter, it would surely rip.

When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she flinched away.

"That's the kind of 'guardian' I am, Shirou. Nothing to do with your dream of helping people." Her hands clenched, the knuckles bone-white. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

A gasp escaped her as Shirou clasped her to his chest. He buried his face in the side of her neck, breathing in the mix of herbs and rose tea that was Tohsaka. Holding her, providing what comfort he could with the bulk of his presence.

"You're still you. The woman I fell hard for," he soothed, and felt her shoulders begin to shake. "You did what you felt you had to, and you regret the pain you caused. You have a heart and a soul."

Tohsaka broke into sobs, great ugly howls that rent the air as tears spilled down to drench his jacket. Her grip around his waist was painful in her distress, but he said nothing. Only rocked her in his arms, terrified that he had broken her, somehow made things worse. Cries came in waves broken apart by short pauses for harshly recovering breath, before misery set her wailing anew.

Slowly painfully to his heart, her voice strained away into shaky little gasps and whimpers. Then silence, which poured into his chest as worry. Gingerly he nudged her a little distance away, so he could see her face, only to find it tilted down towards the ground, obscured by the black curtain of her hair.

"Hey, are you okay?" he said, then felt fingers graze over his cheek.

She looked up to meet him, and Shirou's breath was stolen away. Her smile trembled, her face messily streaked and dripping with snot and salt water. But even brimming with tears, her eyes had never been so beautiful, the brilliant blue of her irises unclouded for the first time since their hands had collided over the cheap glassware of a school reunion.

He couldn't make out the words Tohsaka mumbled to him, heard them only as gratitude and devotion whispering over his skin. Felt some of her spark return as she straightened up, despite all the pain and grief she shared with him; the fierce spark that had left its impression on him, even years later, rather than its imitation. In that moment, Shirou had an epiphany.

Even if I can't save everyone, even if I can't stop the building from toppling… I've helped at least one person pull themselves from the rubble. No, more than that. I helped her, Tohsaka.

Shirou felt a curl of happiness bloom inside his belly, and for once he didn't rush to stamp it out. When he brushed the fingers of her hand against his lips, he found he was smiling. It wasn't Kiritsugu's smile, the one he had spent his life chasing. But it feltright.

When they finally started down the steps again, Tohsaka suddenly hit him on the arm. "You made me cry, you jerk," she groused through the smile that threatened to poke through. "I hope you're ready to pay for it."

That she would try and pull him so quickly back into their comfortable patterns, a ploy to lift his mood that just so happened to let her prod and tease… somehow, it struck him as awfully funny. He chuckled, the laughter rising in his throat until he was half hiccuping.

Blue eyes stared at him in wonder. "You… you're laughing. I mean, actually laughing."

"Oh come on," he said once he'd gotten some control back, his sides a bit painful from the force of his mirth. "It's not that strange."

"It is, actually," Tohsaka said, then smirked. "Laughing at last, hmm. Which means you owe me more than ever." Covering her mouth, she let out a malicious titter. "I'll be counting on you, Mr. Butler!"

"Haaah," he drawled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What a troublesome master I have."

Blue eyes stared at him intently, roaming over his face with an intensity that took him aback.

"Tohsaka…?"

Closing her eyes, she sighed through an odd little smile. "In one world, at least… I hope it gives you rest." Before he could ask what she meant, Tohsaka turned away from him with a pout. "Hmph! I see the staff is in sore need of discipline."

Shirou couldn't help it. Her puffed out cheeks, the mock indignation in her crossed arms, all pulled another laugh from him.

Tohsaka valiantly tried to hold onto her disapproval, to no avail. Soon she was laughing too. "Thanks, Shirou."

"For what?" he asked, absently taking her hand as they walked.

"Everything," she sighed, before smiling at him. "I don't care if you don't see the value in yourself, you're my brightest jewel. Even if you're infuriating sometimes." She shot him a disapproving look when he chuckled, then imperiously lifted her chin. "Hmph, I can't believe a man made me say all that."

"Hey Tohsaka?" He grinned when she turned to him again. "I love you."

Her face turned a spectacular shade of red. "I—idiot," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Then a few steps further, she tucked her head in and murmured, "I love you, too."

They didn't say much on the way down the mountain slope. There wasn't any need to. And if things weren't perfect between them, and probably never would be—they were both human, after all—he accepted the warmth suffusing him as happiness.

Epilogue

Waking up always came easily to Shirou, his body attuned to some precise internal clock. Still, the warm body pressed up against his side made a pretty strong argument for staying encased in the futon a little longer. Idly he brushed aside a few stray strands of black hair, tucking them behind Rin's ear. Even muttering in her sleep, her tresses tangled up in a spider's nest of bedhead, she was adorable.

But as much as he liked admiring his wife at rest, there was only so long before a man needed to move. Unfortunately her arms tightened around him the moment he began shifting to the side, her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. A fond sigh escaped him.

Looks like I'll be staying put after all.

He still felt a little bit guilty about that, when there were so many cases on his desk, so many people counting on him. But it was far better than risking Rin's wrath in the perilous space between awakening and her first cup of tea.

Chuckling as he settled in for at least another half hour, he reached into the night table she'd insisted on adding to his room, moving carefully so he didn't disturb her. A quick rummage yielded the leather album he wanted.

Gently shifting himself up into a seating position, he flipped through the photographs. Two months on from the wedding, and he'd already thumbed through it often enough that the spine was starting to crack. Friends and family beamed at him from the pages - Issei offering his congratulations from behind a stern face, Makami grumbling as his wife helped him maneuver around a broken leg, Sakura positively beaming as the Maid of Honour, Fuji-nee shamelessly lifting her son over the assembly for a better look. Even Shinji standing tall as his best man, and it had taken a while to convince Rin to let that happen.

But that had gotten better, too. Although the tension between them remained, it had lost some of its thorns over time, even if Shirou suspected they'd been trimmed largely for his sake. Rin had even sold Shinji the emerald ring he was planning to propose to his own partner with next week.

And his wife had mellowed considerably since that day up on the hillside. She still practiced magecraft, with the same fire she put into everything she did. But her pride was shaded with genuine enjoyment now despite the inevitable strain, and she let herself be pulled away for other things, too. She actually administered estates now, and ran a small jewelry business in her spare hours. And spent her first Christmas before a roaring fire, she'd told him with a touch of wonder as she relaxed into his arms, instead of the cold stone of her basement workshop.

As he flipped another page, Rin stirred at his side. She sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes, then frowned when she saw the album.

"You're always doing that," she grumbled, though her cheeks held a touch of pink.

"I'm not going to stop even if you gripe and moan," he said, smiling. "After all, it was the best day of my life."

The pink deepened into a fierce scarlet, even as she lifted her chin. "That's right," she said, "I'm glad you understand."

Shirou laughed and took her hand, running their joined fingers over the photo of them standing together. He didn't care that much for wedding clothes—they always made his housekeepers' mind twitch with thoughts of their upkeep—but Rin had never looked more beautiful. The joy shining from her eyes made up for everything, and he still couldn't quite believe he was the one that had put it there.

"Hey, Shirou?" she asked after a time.

"Mmm?"

"We'll have other best days. For the rest of our lives." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "Even if I have to force them on you. I promised you, and I always keep my promises."

"Of course," he nodded. "That's the magus' creed."

"No, not as a magus," she said, a little sharply. "As Rin to Shirou, you dummy. One human to another." She leaned into his shoulder. "So promise me, too. We'll have more mornings like this."

He couldn't promise her that, and she knew it. They had both seen too much tragedy unfold in their lives.

"I do," he smiled anyway.

I'll make it happen. As many days as I can give you.

Shirou could have filled a book with all the other things he wanted to tell her, dozens more albums with all the memories he wanted to capture together. But in the morning sunshine, pressed up against each other… it could wait.