Shirou collapsed bonelessly at the front of the empty cavern. His mind was swirling with too many questions and discoveries that he had suppressed and compartmentalized, but the combined weight of everything he knew threatened to spill forth over his mental fortitude like water over a collapsing dam.
He was secretly glad his father would be away for a few weeks; he knew if Kiritsugu had stayed, the man would have noticed something off about him almost immediately. Shirou didn't know what to think about his father anymore. His admiration for the man was greater than ever now that he knew what Kiritsugu went through, and what he sacrificed, but given everything he had heard from Kotomine and Ilya, Shirou found it impossible to hold on to his naïve idolism of his father. He felt as if he was looking at a broken pedestal, and there were so many things he wanted to ask his father, but he felt choked up just looking at the man, like the words were stuck in his throat and refused to come out.
Shirou didn't know if he would be able to actually speak to Kiritsugu anymore.
He would eventually. Kiritsugu would notice how his son had changed once he spent any amount of time around Shirou, and the truth would come out. He could never lie to the man who saved him. Shirou could only hope that Kiritsugu wouldn't abandon him for replacing his son.
He resolved to write down some questions he had for his father later, hoping that it would help him organize his thoughts about the man.
At the very least, Illya was apparently alive and happy.
Her parents were clearly keeping up the illusion of normality, but Shirou would bet his old house that they were still working on something magical in nature, whether Kiritsugu was still an assassin or not. He nodded to himself, piecing together the situation. The homunculi at the house made sense, now. Use them as older sibling figures to keep an eye on Illya and him, and Kiritsugu and his wife have babysitters they can trust entirely while they do whatever work they're doing.
Shirou blinked. What kind of work would a participant of the Fourth Holy Grail War and the mother of a Lesser Grail undertake?
His eyes snapped back to the cavern. Kiritsugu lost everything because of the Grail. But the Grail was missing, and Kiritsugu still had his family here.
Did Dad find out about Angra Mainyu early?
Everything seemed to line up neatly. Kiritsugu found out about the corrupted nature of the Grail before it was too late and worked to shut down and dismantle the ritual before the Grail War progressed too far. Thus, Angra Mainyu's curse was not inflicted upon him, and he could take Illya back from the Einzbern family and settle down into a relatively normal life.
Shirou grimaced. From what Illya had told him of Jubstacheit von Einzbern, he would not have let Illya go willingly. In which case, the Einzbern in Kiritsugu's house might be the last of them.
He knew exactly how ruthless his father could be.
Emiya sighed. If the Grail was taken care of, then that was a big weight off of his shoulders. Not having to plan long-term for any huge war helped a lot. Now the only problems he had to deal with were family problems. He still had no clue who Liz and Sella were, and his lack of reactions would at least give him away to Sella, who seemed to be the more observant of the two. Illya might catch on as well, but he generally knew her better, so he could probably make it through without her figuring out what happened to him.
Still, she was rather observant, so she might be able to tell that something was off as well.
Oh, well. I'll do my best for now and cross that bridge when I get there.
While he was thinking about family, why did Kiritsugu pick such a western-style home? What happened to their manor? Did someone else live there?
Shirou glanced up at the sun, still fairly high in the sky. He hadn't brought a watch, but he probably had a couple more hours until Sella wanted him back at the house.
Might as well see what happened to the old place.
The walk to Shirou's original home was always comforting to him. The walk, before the war, signified the successful end of a hard day's work, where he could relax, cook and practice his meager magecraft.
The war may have changed all that, but today's stroll back was no less soothing in its familiarity.
The old manor was heavily run-down, practically in shambles. Likely a casualty of the old war, he guessed. Roof shingles were missing, one of the walls were caved in, and mold and dust had settled in quite a bit. The only thing that seemed remotely intact was the shed, which only had its door collapsed. Overall, Shirou's old home could use some serious repairing.
At least none of the load-bearing walls looked damaged.
A small "for sale" sign hung just outside the wall, along with a name and phone number. It seemed whoever owned the building decided it was too much money to bother repairing the place.
Shirou decided to have a look around.
The smell within the house was certainly unpleasant, and mold was growing in a few corners, but there weren't too many pests or invasive species. The lack of termites was a miracle, he would have had to replace the house entirely if there were any. It would be a fixer-upper, certainly, and the flooring would probably have to be replaced, but a gas mask, work gloves and a crowbar would make short work of a lot of the problems the home had.
The dojo was in surprisingly good condition. It was almost suspiciously well-kept. Shirou wondered if it was still being used for something. A thin layer of dust had settled onto the ground, but it had none of the mold or insect issues the main house had. Perhaps it was time to give the owner a call and weasel out why the dojo was as clean as it was. He could check the shed out afterwards.
He pulled out the small flip-phone he had grabbed off of his nightstand that morning—his only apparent contacts were his family and Issei, now that he looked—and dialed the number on the sign.
The phone rang three times before someone answered.
"Hamasaki Daichi speaking," a deep voice answered. He sounded like a rather serious individual.
"Hello, I was curious about the house you have listed in Miyama town, the manor by West Field."
"Yes, it's for sale. If you wish to discuss it further, met me in person at the Copenhagen," the man stated in monotone.
"Sounds good," Shirou replied casually. He was about to ask what time, but the man had already hung up, so he could probably assume the man had meant he wanted to meet now.
He glanced over behind the Dojo.
Might as well check out the shed first.
The door was difficult to break open, given it was off its hinges and wedged into the frame, but Shirou found it to be a good opportunity to practice his reinforcement while he knocked it inward, so he really couldn't complain. Once inside, he immediately noticed it was a bit different to what he remembered.
No tools were there, nor any of the electronics or small mechanical parts he used to work on. There were boxes in the back, still, but arranged in a different manner than he remembered. Upon shifting some around, Shirou found that the magic circle was missing, but he supposed that was expected. Either it was never drawn, or someone else found and erased it.
Shirou moved on to the boxes, which were stacked neatly and lacked any discernable markings. He pulled the first one off of the pile and opened it up, shining the light from his phone's screen on its contents.
Bags of coffee greeted him.
Shirou's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Coffee was rather uncommon in Japan, and someone who never visited this place would not keep a perishable product in its shed, especially in high amounts. This coffee, he surmised, wasn't for drinking.
He dug deeper, unloading the bags of coffee onto the ground next to him. Under the layer of grounds were plastic bags filled with translucent white crystals. Shirou held them up to the light to examine them further. He might not have been able to confirm it, but he certainly had a strong hunch as to what these were, and why they were so out of the way.
Amphetamines. Quite a lot of them, given how many boxes were stacked here. From what he remembered, Fuyuki never had a massive drug problem, so these were likely going to be distributed up through Tokyo, maybe even all the way up to Misaki. Shirou connected the dots. No one man was going to distribute all this, it had to be part of a group. Yakuza, most likely.
Shirou only knew of one yakuza group operating out of Fuyuki.
Emiya walked into the familiar bar to find it mostly empty, surprisingly. Usually, the weekends were the busiest days for restaurants. To see so few people inside a bar during the usual time that the dinner rush took place was almost jarring.
Scanning the room, Shirou quickly identified a dark-haired man in a suit sipping sake, his back to the back wall of the restaurant. He seemed to be absentmindedly enjoying his drink, but Shirou could tell he was keeping an eye on the entrance. Someone cautious, then. This wasn't some civilian being possibly uninvolved or blackmailed.
Hopefully, this doesn't backfire on me.
He sat down across from the gangster, who raised his eyebrow at Shirou's appearance, clearly in disbelief over how young his potential buyer seemed to be.
"You're a little young to be buying a house," Hamasaki stated bluntly.
"So long as I have the cash, right?" Shirou asked, shrugging his shoulders.
"You really think you can afford it?"
Shirou shook his head. "I wouldn't if it was full price, but given how run-down the place is, I think I can convince you to part with it."
Daichi's eyebrows raised slightly, but he gave no other indication of surprise. "Four hundred and fifty million yen," he laid out his asking price.
"No," Shirou responded flatly.
"Then we don't have a deal," Hamasaki pointed out.
"We do," Shirou shot back. "I imagine Fujimura Raiga would be pretty angry at you if your poor concealment practices ended up getting his amphetamines found and one of his men arrested."
Daichi tensed. Shirou noticed he nearly physically stopped himself from reaching for something in one of his pockets, likely a knife.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the older man bit out as evenly as he could.
"Killing me won't solve your problem either. I don't check in soon and the police get a report about at least eight boxes of your product concealed by coffee bags in the back of your dojo," Shirou drawled, channeling Archer as best he could. The yakuza was frozen, probably mulling over how best to run damage control without anything blowing back on him. Shirou had completely bluffed the part about the police report if he died, but he was confident his magecraft, even limited as it was in his current state, would allow him to beat a run-of-the-mill gangster with a knife.
A gun might be a different story. Shirou still hadn't had the chance to test his projection yet.
"…What do you want?" Daichi sagged back in his seat after what felt like an eternity. Shirou relaxed a bit as well. That could have gone very poorly.
"The house, like I said. You'll have to clear out your product, but I imagine you have somewhere else to store it, since you put the house on the market," Shirou probed further. The older man nodded very slightly, possibly involuntarily. He could work with this.
"My boss won't put up with giving it to you for free. He can store it somewhere else, and you'll have nothing on us," Hamasaki stonewalled him.
"If he's fast enough," Shirou shrugged, uncaring. "But I'll bet having the police on high alert will make that move a lot more difficult. Are you sure your boss will want to risk that?"
"Are you asking for a meeting?"
"I'm willing to meet the boss if you can't hand over the deed," Shirou smiled. He hadn't seen Raiga in a while. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too angry at Shirou for essentially blackmailing him out of a property. He was banking on his mechanic services to get the boss to agree to transfer the deed to Shirou, but Raiga was hardly generous to those who tried to swindle him.
"I'll let him know. We'll get back to you in a week or so."
Shirou shook his head sharply. "Not fast enough. Set up a private meeting now or I make sure the police know about those boxes."
"The boss might kill you anyway, you know," Hamasaki warned gravely. Shirou nodded back, just as serious.
"I know."
"If you're sure."
Silence sat between them like iron bars. Neither moved for a minute, before Daichi pulled out his cell phone and dialed his boss' number. It rang a few times before Hamasaki perked up a bit.
"Good evening, boss. I'm sorry to disturb you, but a child has found out about one of our shipments. He wants to set up a deal with us for the property, otherwise he'll tell the blues. Yes, sir. No, I don't recommend that. He has someone else who will inform them if he fails to check in at a specific time. I do not know, but it is best to be cautious. Yes, sir. Understood, sir. Goodbye."
"So, he's coming?" Shirou asked inquisitively. The dark-haired man nodded in confirmation.
"He will be here in thirty minutes. The meeting will be a rolling meeting."
"Alright, let me check in with my contact," he said as he whipped out his phone, maneuvered the selector to Sella's contact and texted her that the school needed some help with some of its electronics, and it would probably keep him past dinner, but he would be back before midnight. Once sent, he snapped the phone shut and slipped it back in his pocket.
"Well, since we've got time, do you mind if I get some tea?"
Emiya and Hamasaki stepped outside the bar just as the large, black SUV rolled up to the front of the bar, slowing and stopping gently in front of them. The driver stepped out, a bald man in sunglasses and a suit, opening the back door for them both to slip in. Daichi motioned for Shirou to step in first, which he complied with easily. He had no reason to anger anyone any further just yet.
While he stepped into the car, he ran a subtle structural analysis spell on the vehicle. It was armored, unsurprisingly, but the oil needed to be changed soon and the suspension was not up to par, considering all the extra weight the armor added. Whoever replaced the suspension either ripped them off or had little knowledge of exactly how strong a suspension armored vehicles needed, especially if the drive ended up…eventful.
There were a few other early signs of wear and tear, parts that would need to be replaced down the line, but other than that, the car was in surprisingly decent condition. The subpar suspension might get them killed if they hit a curb while escaping some kind of firefight or police chase, though.
Hamasaki climbed in behind him, slipping into the very back of the SUV, while Shirou sat directly in front of him, in the middle row. To Daichi's right was another member that was clearly armed and prepared to put a hole in his head, if the way the man hid his hand was any indication.
Fujimura Raiga sat next to him in a fine silk yukata that bore traditionalist, muted green colors. His evenly cropped white hair was as slick as usual, and he seemed healthy despite his showing age.
The displeased frown on his face really got his point across. He didn't even have to speak.
"So, you're the brat that's threatening me with my product?" the old man grumbled at him. Shirou smiled.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Fujimura-sama. Your subordinate speaks highly of you," Shirou responded politely, nodding his head in the best mimicry of a bow he could perform while in a moving car.
"What do you want, kid? You've got some serious audacity trying to leverage a face-to-face meeting with me, especially by threatening my organization."
"Like I told Hamasaki-san, I'm just looking to buy the house," he answered.
Fujimura's eyebrow raised in snide disbelief. "And, what, you just expected me to hand over the place and believe you'll keep quiet? I can guarantee you I've been doing business a lot longer than you have, kid, and that's never how these things work. So, either bring cash next time, or don't come back at all."
"Really?" Shirou asked, a bit surprised. "Then you've moved your drugs already? Your men must have checked for anyone spying on the house first. Are you sure they checked thoroughly?"
The sound of a hammer cocked behind him. Ah, things were becoming a bit too hostile. Maybe he should stop pushing Raiga so hard.
"Relax. If I had any intention of actually reporting your group to the police, I would have done it already," Shirou ordered the yakuza pointing his pistol at his head.
"Ho?" Raiga chuckled. "So, there was no dead man's switch, either? Was all of this just a big bluff?"
"You catch on fast. I just wanted a meeting with you," Emiya shrugged. "I wanted to work out a deal for the house, and I figured this was the fastest way to get in contact without throwing my name around."
"Wanted me to judge you by your actions, huh? Alright, I'll bite. What are you offering in return for the house?"
"I happen to be a pretty good mechanic. I figure it's easier to use my services than whatever hack you're currently employing," Shirou shrugged, imitating Archer's sharp tongue once again.
"What makes our guy a hack?" Fujimura asked him warily.
"The suspension on the car. This is armored, so custom suspension had to have been installed, but from the way the front sags, there isn't a strong enough suspension installed. If you hit a speed bump or a curb fast enough, the car will give out on you completely. Whoever installed them either didn't account for the added weight of people and installed a lower-grade suspension by mistake, or he did it on purpose to spend less and pocket whatever leftover funds you gave him. Either way, I'd get that checked out soon," Shirou gave Raiga his most innocent smile, who now was looking at him extremely cautiously.
"I told you, Fujimura-san, I'm a pretty good mechanic."
"We'll see," Raiga muttered noncommittally. He was quiet for a few more moments, seemingly contemplating everything. After a few moments, he waved down the yakuza pointing the gun at Shirou's head, who slipped his pistol into his suit and sat back.
"So, how did you hear about us? You some rich kid?"
Shirou's smile widened slightly. Time to close in for the kill.
"Yeah, my dad mentioned you once or twice, so I figured I'd get to know you myself."
"What's your dad do?"
"Mostly overseas work. He travels a lot," Shirou shrugged casually. "I can't give too many details."
"What's his name?" Fujimura asked.
"Emiya Kiritsugu."
Raiga coughed deeply, choking on his spit for a moment.
"Holy shit, kid."
"So, do we have a deal?" Shirou offered his hand with the sincerest smile he could muster.
"Is your dad gonna take us all out if I don't accept?" The yakuza boss asked him candidly, staring warily at the proffered hand.
"Not that I know of, but he hasn't told me all that much," Shirou technically answered honestly, hand still held across the seat. He felt bad about pressuring Fujimura like this, but without the house, he would have serious trouble finding a decent place to hone his magecraft, so imitating Rin's ruthless business strategy was a necessity.
Plus, he would make it up to them with his work ethic.
"Alright, we'll see what you can do. I plan to put you to work, boy, so remember that." Raiga took his hand firmly and shook it with more vigor than Shirou would have expected.
"I look forward to it, sir," Emiya smiled gratefully.
The sun was just setting as Shirou walked in his front door. He had exchanged contact info with the Fujimura group, and had told them his school hours, so he was effectively on call for work during his free hours. He would have to find time to fix up the house, but the shed was in good condition, and he was still expected to live at Sella's house, so he was in no rush.
He might not live here much longer, though, given the expression Sella was making at him.
"Er…I'm home?"
Sella inhaled, then exhaled.
"Emiya Shirou. You missed dinner." The maid seemed to be out of mercy.
"I know, I'm sorry, I was held up! I texted you beforehand, and I thought we would be finished earlier!" Shirou apologized, doing his best to explain himself.
"And you never told me what you were doing, either. You're supposed to be responsible! You're going to be the man of the house eventually! You can't end up as some delinquent skipping dinner and staying out late unannounced!" Sella berated him with a wagging finger, a bit reminiscent of Rin. A fond smile began to creep across his face for a second, before he remembered that he was being lectured and should not be smiling right now.
Unfortunately, Sella noticed.
"Hey! Is this some kind of joke to you? This is important!"
"I'm sorry, Sella," Shirou bowed, hoping his lack of suffix wasn't an unusual choice. "I got a training offer to become a mechanic. I was going over some of the ropes today. There are apparently a lot of high-end businesses that need specialized vehicle maintenance, so it's supposed to be high paying. Plus, I get to help people, so I thought it was a good idea to take their offer."
The maid sighed; the wind taken out of her sails.
"Of course, you were just trying to help people. I don't know what else I was expecting," she admitted, at least partially to herself. "I left your dinner in the fridge, it's wrapped. Let me know when you're going to miss dinner ahead of time in the future."
"Alright, I'll do my best," Shirou smiled at her.
A quick pitter-patter was heard from upstairs, quickly making its way towards them. Soon, a small, pajama-clad girl with long, snow-white hair and eyes like rubies rounded the corner and locked onto him like a heat-seeking missile.
"Onii-chan!" Illyasviel von Einzbern shouted joyfully as she threw herself at him in a massive hug. He stepped back once to brace himself, and just barely managed to remain standing as she collided with him.
She was also a lot smaller than he remembered.
Illya, in his arms, was a girl closer in looks to a child of four or five rather than the one in his memory, eternally ten years old. He had to admit that made sense, since she was much younger than him, but something felt…off.
As if she was supposed to be older, somehow.
His left arm throbbed faintly.
Shirou brushed it off, focusing on the girl hugging him with an infectiously bright smile, which he returned without hesitation.
"You're late, onii-chan! Why?" Illya pouted at him, trying to keep her excited grin off of her face and failing miserably.
"Sorry, Illya, I was getting some mechanical training. I'm working on fixing cars!" he told her, hoping to appease her vaguely sulky mood by focusing her attention on his new job.
"Really? That's so cool! Do you build racecars? Do they go really fast? Can they do loop-de-loops?" Illya battered him with questions immediately. He was glad his distraction worked so well. Hopefully, he could keep it working for a while.
"I'm building fast cars, but I don't know if they race. Maybe I'll ask next time," Shirou told her gently. Her eyes widened with unbridled glee, completely fascinated with his job. Maybe he would end up teaching her about cars and engines in the future if her interest persisted.
"Are you gonna do that every day?" she asked.
"Not every day, but I'm probably going to be out longer. I should have one or two days off a week, it's only a part-time job."
"You'll still play with me, right?" Illya badgered him pleadingly, her eyes softening cutely.
She's already an excellent manipulator. She'll be a terror when she grows up.
He could see why the Einzbern were such successful mages.
"Of course, Illya. I'll always make time for you," Shirou smiled brightly at her, which she returned dazzlingly.
"Alright, Illya, your brother needs to eat and go to bed. He has school tomorrow, so he has to get up early," Sella interjected, prompting him to set his sister down.
"Yeah, I probably should," he agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay, Illya?"
"Okay! Goodnight, onii-chan!" Illya called, already running back up to her room. He smiled at her retreating form, cherishing the innocence she had.
He prayed it would last.
Shirou stared out his window, exhausted, but unable to sleep. His mind was still spinning with questions.
Why does Illya feel so…different? Unfamiliar? Is it because of Kiritsugu? Did the Einzberns do something to her? What happened with the Grail war?
His mind connected two memories. The Grail. The maids. He had heard Sella's voice before. She was talking about some kind of magical artifact, a dress. He had no clue what it signified, but it was connected to the Einzberns somehow. Was that the difference between the wars?
Shirou pushed it from his mind. He had no real leads, and he couldn't ask Sella without giving away his magical knowledge. For all he knew, enough had changed that Sella had no knowledge of the dress. Or he was simply chasing a red herring. Anything was possible, at this point.
His mind drifted back to his old world, his old life. He had left behind a lot of people. Rin might cry, but she was strong. She would put on a brave face and move on with her life, and probably accomplish great things. Issei would mourn him, but he would make peace with his disappearance. Eventually.
Fuji-nee and Ilya would be inconsolable. She would probably take care of his home and help out Ilya, who would hopefully be a shoulder for Fuji-nee to lean on just as much as Fuji-nee would be for her. Both of them had lost his father, and now they had lost him, as well. Shirou hoped they could find their own happiness.
Sakura.
By far, his biggest regret was leaving her behind. He had abandoned his dream for her; abandoned the world for her. She was the woman he loved most, and the one he wished to save more than anyone.
He supposed he succeeded.
She still had Rider if the Servant had not yet dematerialized. Her status as a Lesser Grail should be enough to keep Rider materialized and bound to her. Even without him, she would help Sakura, and they would live peacefully, no longer under the shadow of Zouken.
Shirou's entire body tensed, vision snapping westward. Fear hooked its icy claws into his heart. His lungs felt crushed by a great weight. He could barely breathe. Shirou's mana surged through him, and his reality marble crashed into his mind, doing its best to burst forth and manifest.
He had seen Rin today, but not her sister.
Zouken still has Sakura.