Shirou walked into the Fujimura group's warehouse with a slight slouch.
He had not slept well last night.
The thought of Sakura still suffering under Zouken kept him awake, along with what might happen if Raiga had talked to his father about their deal. Both situations were troubling to him, and he knew he would have to deal with both, but he had no idea where to begin to tackle either problem. Shirou had no knowledge of how to kill Zouken, since Sakura had apparently rid herself of him before he severed her connection to the Greater Grail. He knew that Zouken's main body was inside Sakura's heart, assuming Kotomine had not lied to him, but he had no way of separating the two without killing Sakura in the process.
Rifling through the few of Archer's memories he could recall clearly, Shirou found no method or weapon capable of separating the two cleanly. If he had Saber with him, He could give Avalon to Sakura and just use Gae Bolg to annihilate the worm and let her heart regenerate, but the Greater Grail was gone. Saber was out of his reach.
He prayed he could find a solution, because anyone he could think to ask might decide saving Sakura wasn't worth the risk and sacrifice her for the greater good.
His father, first and foremost.
Which was why he was hoping Fujimura Raiga had not asked Kiritsugu about their deal.
"You're on time, boy. That's good." The man himself stood in a black kimono, flanked by two men in freshly pressed black suits, with slicked black hair and glasses.
"I'm never late if I can help it, Fujimura-sama," Shirou responded honestly, bowing to the boss. "Good afternoon."
"We got the new suspension in. Imported from an American custom shop. Think you can install it?" Raiga asked him pointedly.
"I might need an extra hand or two, but it shouldn't be any trouble, so long as the connecting parts are all correct. You sent them the exact model and year, right?" Shirou asked back, looking over at the large, armored vehicle on the lift.
"Of course. These two will help you with anything you need," Fujimura gestured to the two guards beside him, who stepped forward and bowed politely.
"I appreciate that," Shirou returned their bows. "Do you two have anything you can change into? I imagine you don't want to get your suits dirty."
The two nodded before they led him to a locker room in the back, connected to a spartan bathroom and a few showers. The men efficiently stripped off their suits efficiently, slipping on white, long-sleeved shirts and khaki pants. Shirou changed into his own set of spares as quickly as he could, determined not to show his fatigue this early. He had powered through on less sleep before, even if this body was unused to lacking rest.
Once he had changed into his work clothes, consisting of a black long-sleeved shirt, jeans and work gloves he had purchased from a hardware store just before school, he was led back to the main workshop area where Raiga began to instruct him.
"I just need you to replace the suspensions today. One of my men will have it run a crash course to test it, and if it works, we'll keep you on hand for future jobs."
"Understood," Shirou remarked. "Also, you didn't call my father about this, did you?" He really hoped Raiga hadn't. Kiritsugu would be incredibly suspicious of him if he had learned of Shirou's suddenly unusual knowledge and behavior. That conversation might end with him buried at Ryuudou Temple.
The less said about what might happen to Fujimura, the better.
"I did not. I figured you didn't want him knowing," Raiga side-eyed him, probing for any kind of reaction. Shirou did his best to nod evenly.
He's cleverer than I gave him credit for. It was probably the use of blackmail that gave away that I was acting alone.
"I needed to form my own connections. If I just rode off the coattails of my dad, I'd get nowhere in life," Shirou technically did not lie.
"Ha!" Raiga barked out a laugh. "True enough, boy. Now, get started. We don't have all day."
Shirou nodded and stepped over to the lift as he undid one of his work gloves and held it in his mouth as he ran a gloved and ungloved hand across the cold, untreated suspension of the vehicle. He hoped he could pass off what he was about to do as a minor eccentricity of his.
"Trace, on," he mumbled into the glove in his mouth.
If the Clock Tower ever found out he was using magecraft in full view of nonmagical humans, he would be hunted to the ends of the earth and slaughtered—assuming they had not found out about the other circumstances of his existence that would most certainly earn him a Sealing Designation. Luckily for him, Structural Grasping was an incredibly subtle thaumaturgy, and would go unnoticed so long as he looked like he was doing something more easily explicable.
Information flooded his mind, showing him the exact dimensions of the various components of the car, the different materials used, where they were harvested and manufactured, how much wear they had accumulated, and much more of each part's history, most of it useless to him. The suspension was subpar, as he had surmised the day before, but more importantly, he now understood where and how the suspension fit onto the car, and could now replace them, so long as he had the tools.
Shirou was very glad he brought his backpack.
"I'm going to need you two to stand under this and hold these two parts. This will be heavy, so watch out," Shirou directed the two men as he reached into his pack and secretly traced a few tools he would need to replace the suspensions.
He set to work with gusto, undoing the bolts with a few tools he had secretly traced while pretending to pull them out of his backpack and directing his temporary colleagues to assist him when necessary as his mind wandered yet again. Shirou's worries concerning Sakura had not abated, but he had no clue how to even begin to talk to her. He had no memory of which elementary school she attended, if any, and he could not fathom how to safely approach her and gain her trust once he did find her. If he approached her too obviously, she would become suspicious of him, which would in turn make Zouken suspicious.
I have to avoid Zouken's suspicion at all costs.
Zouken's suspicion usually meant someone's death.
Shirou had disassembled the old suspension faster than he expected, drowned in his concerns as he was. He needed to focus on his current task, he'd get nothing done worrying himself to death about Sakura. Resolving to put it off for a time when he could fully concentrate on it, he threw himself into his work.
Within the hour, the new suspension was installed. Shirou had performed one final Structural Grasping to ensure nothing was connected improperly, and once certain that everything was correct, he gave Fujimura the thumbs up.
"It's all installed, Fujimura-sama. This will hold up far better when transporting large amounts of cargo."
"Good," Raiga grunted, having stayed to oversee the entire process. "You work pretty fast, kid. Where'd you learn?"
"A couple of motorcycle enthusiasts my dad knew taught me a lot. I expanded to cars afterwards," Shirou told him, carefully not mentioning that the Fujimura group members were said motorcycle enthusiasts.
Raiga grunted and nodded to himself. "Alright, I'll have someone test-drive this sometime soon. You get home, kid. This car works well enough, you'll have that house deed and some more work lined up for you."
"Sounds great! Thank you," Shirou bowed in gratitude and set off back to the locker rooms to change.
In the bathroom, he showered off all the sweat and oil and grime he had accumulated, using a strong body wash to cleanse his skin as efficiently as he could. Shirou was exhausted, certainly, but he still had plans for today. As much as he wanted nothing more than to head home and pass out for twelve hours, he had more important goals than sleep.
Every minute wasted was a minute Sakura was in Zouken's clutches.
Turning off the hot water and quickly wiping himself down with a towel, Shirou then threw on a spare change of clothes and left the locker room. He waved to Raiga and the two henchmen lowering the vehicle down from the lift as he passed by, pushing open the drab steel door to the fresh, still-sunny outdoors.
He took a deep breath, collecting himself and attempting to summon up what remained of his energy, bolstering it with his determination.
To Miyama, then.
As soon as Shirou opened the gates to his old home, he felt at ease. The home his family now lived in was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He couldn't quite relax there. Maybe he would get over it someday, but it would never feel as homely to him as his old estate. The bounded field on the Einzbern house was more closed off, less freely flowing. It was akin to a walled-off swimming pool rather than an untouched river. Shirou found it weighed upon him.
Not that the estate had any bounded field at the moment, but he would get around to installing one eventually. Luckily, Archer had learned a few things about bounded fields from Rin during his time with her at the Clock Tower, and he had to set one up to keep his workshop safe from those who would attempt to steal his notes on magecraft.
A reality marble was not something one wanted others to discover.
Unfortunately, he only had a couple pieces of the limited bounded field knowledge Archer held, so unless he was able to acquire a book on the subject, Shirou would have to wait until the rest of those memories returned to set one up. He shrugged to himself, glancing around the dilapidated estate. A lack of a bounded field did not mean he couldn't practice magecraft. The property was large, and there were few neighbors around to bother him. The only other mages in the city lived at least halfway across the city, so without some sort of scrying tool, it would be incredibly unlikely that they found him out.
Shirou froze.
Shit, Zouken's insects are scrying tools.
He would have to sweep the shed and surrounding areas for possible spies. Shirou doubted that they would be around an abandoned property, but one could never be too sure. Paranoia was essential against an opponent as dangerous as Zouken.
Performing a quick scan with his eyes over the vibrantly green compound grounds, he encountered no unusual insects, nor in the dark and dry concrete shed. That was to be expected, but to truly ensure he was not being scried upon, he would have to employ a far riskier strategy.
If Shirou found anything, he would know he was being scried upon, but the spy would know he was onto them.
He breathed deeply, calming himself, before he set one hand on the floor.
Structural Grasping.
He gained a vast amount of knowledge of the compound within an instant, so much so that he already was feeling the mental backlash, but nothing magical was in, on or below the compound grounds. He was safe.
Shirou sighed, relieved.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he removed his shirt, bringing forth his left arm. Working on his tracing was high priority, as well as bringing his skill with Reinforcement back up to par with Archer. If he could equal his counterpart's terrifying efficiency with the spell, he could move at speeds on par to lower ranked servants using the Counter Guardian's circuits. Paired with the ability to trace and fire off Noble Phantasms at speed, Shirou would become a serious magical powerhouse.
But deep within, he knew he would not be practicing either of these today. Something within his heart screamed out to him, demanding he reach out for it. And he would. Despite all he had gone through, despite the pride and ego he abandoned in the fires of his birth, he would still answer that trace of selfishness within him. He did it for Sakura, and he would do it for Archer. Shirou owed them both at least that much.
Steadying himself and priming his circuits, he began to chant.
"I am the bone of my sword."
He filled out his journal as he headed back to the Einzberns' home, jotting down his thoughts, theories and thaumaturgical knowledge in various, loosely organized sections of the little book. Shirou had made little progress on his reality marble, only that he now knew which lines of Archer's aria still worked for him. The first three had remained the same, but the fourth onward were now alien to him. When he tried to speak the fourth line, his circuits felt like fire had coursed through them and the words were imprisoned in his lungs.
As I suspected. We're too different now.
Shirou sighed, scratching the side of his head with his pencil as he glanced up at the sky. The bright, cloudless blue expanse had begun to take on a tinge of pink near the horizon, signifying that he probably needed to be back at the house soon.
He still couldn't acknowledge it as home, yet.
Continuing to jot down thoughts in various sections of the notebook, flipping the pages back and forth as different ideas and feelings began to take shape, Shirou eventually decided to snap it shut and focus on walking back faster. He had written enough for now, and he did not wish to risk Sella's wrath by being late for dinner twice in a row.
It still felt weird that he was not the primary cook of the house. He hoped to rectify that at some point. Lacking a proper kitchen was one more missing creature comfort that kept him feeling out of his depth.
Maybe Sella will let me cook on weekends?
Wishful thinking, perhaps.
He had written out a few of the biggest questions he had for his father, though he recognized some of them would likely never be answered, since Kiritsugu in this world had presumedly changed drastically compared to his memories of Kiritsugu. Nearly as much as he himself had changed in comparison to Archer.
However, asking him about his thought process while working the jobs he worked might prove enlightening about his father's own experience with what heroism was. He felt like he needed to know what made Kiritsugu change his ways and abandon the very dream that made him who he was, just as it once shaped Shirou. His father's aspirations were an unknown to him, and it frightened Shirou, just a bit. Kiritsugu was no longer the Kiritsugu he once knew. He was a different person, entirely unfamiliar to him. Just as he would be to his father.
Now that he thought about it, maybe this was what Counter Guardian EMIYA had felt when he saw Shirou abandon his aspirations of justice.
"Unknown to the future, nor known to the past."
The words slotted into his head like a missing puzzle piece, making his mind feel just a bit more complete. Shirou stopped walking, stunned. He felt like someone had just installed another cog in his brain—like he could think on a new axis that was incomprehensible to him before. Lightning surged through his circuits as Shirou breathed in the heady rush of power.
Shirou flipped open the journal again and scribbled down the new line under the other three. He would have to dissect their meanings later, but he was glad he had made progress this soon. Archer had taken forever to figure out his aria.
His mood dampened as he realized he probably wouldn't be nearly as lucky with the rest of the stanza.
Nonetheless, he continued back to the house, trying to calm the prana racing through his circuits all the while.
"I'm home!"
It still felt uncomfortable for him to say. Shirou didn't know if he would ever feel at home here.
Illya jumped off the couch and sprinted over to greet him, excitedly calling out his name as she jumped at him in a great hug. He caught her easily, holding her in his arms as he greeted both her and Sella, who had just walked into his line of sight from the kitchen. A pleasant smile adorned the maid's face.
He thought it suited her.
"Welcome home, Shirou. How was work?" she asked him politely.
"It went well, I think I impressed them," he replied, smiling at Illya, who was trying to bury her head in the crook of his neck.
"That's good. Dinner will be on the table soon, so go wash up," she told him happily. "You too, Illya."
His little sister groaned into his shoulder and held onto him tighter. He raised his eyebrow at her slightly. Was she really this spoiled? He thought girls didn't hit their rebellious phase until their early teens.
Shirou's heart ached at the thought of his Illya, abandoned and experimented on, now alone. The last of her family had passed away.
…He supposed he could afford to spoil this Illya just a bit.
"I'll help her wash up, don't worry," Shirou told the maid, turning to and walking towards the bathroom as steadily as possible, so as not to jostle his little sister. "Come on, Illya, let's get ready for dinner!"
His left arm throbbed as he held her.
Dinner was a simple affair of curry over rice, though he was impressed with how well-made the simple dish was. It lacked the spice he was used to, since he had always prepared it with a dash of cayenne powder for some extra kick, but he figured Illya probably wouldn't enjoy curry if it burned her tongue. Regardless, Sella must have had a lot of experience making it. Was it Illya's favorite food? He knew Kiritsugu's favorite was hamburg steak, though he generally wasn't too picky. Perhaps Kiritsugu's wife was partial to the dish.
He supposed it mattered little. Illya seemed to like it, and he had found himself polishing off his own plate faster than he expected.
Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.
"Thank you for the food," he told Sella appreciatively as he picked up his plate and utensils and brought them over to the sink to wash. "I can take care of the dishes tonight."
"You don't have to, it's my job. Besides, you've been at work and school all day. You need your rest. I don't want you too tired to make it to school tomorrow," Sella lectured him. As much as he would have liked to push back and try to clean the dishes himself, just to make himself feel a bit more useful, the maid clearly took her job very seriously and would push back just as much to make sure he wasn't encroaching on her part of the house.
Shirou sighed lightly.
I'm not going to win that argument, am I?
"Alright," he conceded. "I'll just wash my plate." Turning on the water, he quickly scrubbed down his plate with dish soap before rinsing and drying it with a checker-patterned dish towel that sat nearby.
A light clatter to his side alerted him to Illya, who was trying her hardest to set her plate on the counter but couldn't quite reach. Her face was scrunched up in concentration as she stretched up on her toes to reach the countertop, becoming dangerously unbalanced. Shirou reached over and took her plate gently before she ended up falling over and breaking it.
"Be careful, Illya," he chided softly, smiling at her. "You're still growing. I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to grow up too fast."
She pouted at him, her cheeks puffed out and slightly pink. "But how can I be like you if I'm small forever? I wanna be big and strong!"
His arm throbbed again. Memories of an older Ilya—one that was fading and dying—crossed his mind. Another set of memories passed, even more foreign. A blind and bleeding girl, skewered upon beautiful blades, reaching desperately for a dead giant.
He felt sick.
"Onii-chan? Onii-chan?" Illya, still small and alive and here, called out to him. Shirou shook his head, grounding himself in reality, before smiling reassuringly at his little sister.
"Don't worry, I'm fine," he told her as he patted her head gently. Illya nuzzled into his touch, closing her eyes contentedly. "Just focus on being you, Illya, and grow at your own pace."
"Mm'kay," she murmured into his side as she hugged him, her voice muffled by his shirt.
"Come on, Illya, let's watch some TV together," Shirou suggested, scooping her up and hoisting her to eye level before marching out of the kitchen.
Illya cheered happily.
It was all that mattered at that moment.
Shirou closed the door to Illya's room quietly, having tucked her into bed and given her a kiss goodnight. Striding quietly across the hall to his room, he opened the door slowly, so he would not disturb anyone else in the house. He had gotten precious little sleep the previous night, so he planned to do his best to get as much rest as he could so he could be as productive as possible in the coming days.
He remembered how the grail war took a toll on him. If he planned to accomplish anything in the coming years, he needed to be in top form. Three hours of sleep a night would only hinder him, especially with how much he needed to accomplish as soon as possible.
"Fatigue is the enemy," as his former servant would say.
Closing the door behind him and flipping on his lights to change into his nightclothes, he was surprised to see Sella standing at his window, staring out into the night sky. Alarm bells rang in his head.
He didn't know Sella too well, but he had a distinct feeling that her appearing in his room like this was not her usual behavior.
"Sella," Shirou greeted her warily. "Is there an issue?"
"I was just curious about something. Apparently, Madame Irisviel was worried about you yesterday. She thought you seemed hurt and saw fit to mention it to me. Did anything strange happen yesterday morning?" the maid asked him forthwith.
Ah, so her name is Irisviel.
Shirou tensed. He had just awoken to this world yesterday. Did they somehow feel his possession of their Shirou, and his subsequent demise? He couldn't imagine how that could actually be detected, so he had to guess that Irisviel had not sensed his reawakening. Perhaps they felt his magic circuits opening?
No, they didn't.
His mind snapped back to yesterday when he projected a small dagger in the bathroom. He had forgotten that he lived in a mage's home, of course they had wards! Shirou felt like such an idiot.
He could hear Rin lecturing him in the back of his mind.
"Ah, now that you mention it," he stalled a bit, hoping he wouldn't be caught trying to cover up his actions, "Yeah. I woke up feeling like I had pins and needles poking me everywhere. Kind of like an electric shock. It didn't feel very good. The jog to school helped clear it, though, so I'm feeling better, now."
A pregnant pause stretched between them. Sella's expression became more brittle. "I see."
He had to divert her attention from him. Playing the fool worked to an extent, but he would have to press his own curiosity to distract her from hers.
"Why, is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?" Shirou questioned her, doing his best to sound concerned.
Sella blinked, before recomposing herself. "No, you should be fine. I doubt it will happen again. If it does, let me know and I will call Madame."
"Mom knows what this is?" Shirou pressed her for a bit more information.
"Yes, the Einzbern family once were excellent doctors and biologists. Madame knows about many rare afflictions," the maid stated proudly. She seemed prepared for the question.
He supposed Illya would eventually feel her circuits open eventually, and the family were prepared for the possibility. Any more information fishing would probably be met with prepared answers or open suspicion.
"Alright," Shirou conceded. "I'll let you know if I feel it again."
"Thank you, Shirou," she told him sincerely as she moved to leave his room. "Have a good night."
The door to his room closed with a soft click, stranding him in silence. He waited a few more seconds, then exhaled.
I have to assume Sella will report all of this to Kiritsugu. I'll probably be watched more closely, so I'll have to be careful about any lingering traces of magic whenever I come home.
Kiritsugu and Irisviel would find out eventually, but Shirou couldn't let them know about him yet. He wanted to tell Kiritsugu about him so badly, but he could not afford to say anything. They were known magical quantities in Fuyuki. Even just the name Einzbern would be a tipoff to any magus in the city. Zouken was definitely keeping tabs on them, but he had more than likely written him and Illyasviel off as normal children, given his and Illya's closed circuits. The minute that changed, Zouken would be watching him. He would be found out too soon.
Also, he didn't know how to tell his parents that he might have killed and replaced their son.
Guilt wracked his mind once more as the thought took form in his mind. Shirou felt terrible; nearly as bad as when he abandoned his ideals of heroism to try to save the girl he loved, potentially damning the rest of the world as a result. He had felt like he was unable to live with himself at the time. The only thing that had kept him going was that he could potentially still at least save the one he loved, and possibly whoever else was still alive once he did. Though, if Illya wasn't there for him when Sakura was fully possessed by Angra Mainyu, he might not have been strong enough to make that choice. And it would have killed him.
He supposed he would have died either way. He just hoped his guilt would not cement his death yet again. Not before he had rescued Sakura.
Shirou eventually fell asleep, with horrid, rueful thoughts stirring fitfully in his mind.