The First Day

I’m dreaming, but it’s not from me.

It feels like a memory, but not my own.

It’s a story that takes place a long time ago—insanely long ago. About a boy who lived in a tiny world, in a nameless mountain village lost to time. A village so small, so isolated, that it might as well not exist.

To these villagers, their God was everything—their only solace.

They lived righteously, obeying strict precepts, valuing goodness, protecting the light, striving to live virtuous lives. They believed that through devotion and purity, they could escape the taint of human weakness.

For them, this was absolute.

It was the only source of pride they knew.

They prayed for a peaceful world, a world free from malice. They sought to purify their souls, renouncing hunger, conflict, love, and hate.

They were proud to be worthy of God’s blessing.

But people cannot be freed from malice merely through clean, righteous living.

No matter how much they wished it, the truth was undeniable. From the moment a human is born, there is evil in them.

And so, certain measures had to be taken.

They devised a method to cleanse the world—not just their small village, but all of humanity.

If they could not make everyone good, then they could prove the existence of goodness another way.

All they needed was one person.

One soul to carry the burden of all evil.

If one person bore all the world’s malice, then by contrast, everyone else must be pure. No matter what they did, no matter what sins they committed, they would be absolved—because all evil already had a master.

Some were skeptical, but to speak against it was to admit one’s own darkness.

In that village, there was a young man.

A boy known for his kindness. He helped others without asking for reward, believing in the innate goodness of people.

But the villagers could not understand him.

“What sort of person helps others without wanting anything in return?”

In their tiny, self-contained world, such selflessness was unnatural. Suspicious. A truly good person was a contradiction. And contradictions had to be removed.

And so, when they sought a sacrifice, their choice was obvious.

He was taken while he was cleaning, seized by a mob of villagers—his friends, his neighbors, even his own parents.

They carved every cursed word onto his body, forced every sin upon him, held him responsible for all the evils of the world.

It was a small world, but in it, the ultimate evil was born.

They cursed him. Feared him. Hated him.

But they needed him.

He was their proof of salvation. The reason they could call themselves righteous.

He was the foundation of their peace, the cornerstone of their virtue.

And so, they tortured him, ensuring he lived long enough to bear the weight of their sins.

They bestowed upon him a name.

Angra Mainyu.

The name of the devil erased from divine scripture.

I wonder… did he truly become a devil in the end?

His village believed he had.

And if everyone around you treats you as a monster, scorns you, fears you, worships you as a vessel of evil—

Then what choice do you have but to become one?

But even as they cursed him, he had saved them.

His existence pardoned them of all their sins.

Though his method was cruel, he had saved people.

He had become a hero.

A hero who was hated by all.

An ordinary man, chosen to become all the evils of the world.

I wonder… what kind of person could endure that? What did he become in the end?

---

When I wake up, my body is cold, but my head is warm. I’m lying on something soft. A pillow? No… warmer. Softer. A gentle pressure strokes through my hair.

That dream—

I can’t understand it.

It wasn’t a nightmare, but it was scarier than one. A nightmare is fake. A nightmare is something you can wake from and shake off. But that—

That felt real. There was no fire reaching out from my heart reminding me of bad memories, this was not me.

I open my eyes.

Black

I close them because they must be faulty. I close them and then open them a few more times.

There is malice there.

Black

White

Black

White

I must be still sleepy and here of all places it is no surprise I see bad things.

Yet no matter how many times I open my eyes, there is no change. There it- she is.

Malice in a strange shape.

A woman’s face, directly above me, looking down at me.

No, not just a face.

The soft thing I was lying on—her lap.

The warmth in my hair—her hand.

Snow-white hair. Crimson eyes. A face so perfect, so smooth, that it almost didn’t seem real.

Her skin was pale, blending seamlessly into her long, silken hair.

She wasn’t Japanese. She couldn’t be. European? She was so pale it was more like a fairy come to life than a human.

I swear… I’ve seen her before.

But where?

How did this situation even happen?

Ahh… I came to the park and fell asleep on the bench.

But why did I come all the way here in the first place?

I blush, realizing I’ve been staring. That’s rude. I should look away—

I was going to look away, but she tilted her head down and stared right into my eyes.

“You’re awake then. It’s a dangerous thing to fall asleep all alone, you know.”

Her voice was soft, almost gentle, but something about it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Her eyes had a strange, unnatural tint of yellow, something you wouldn’t notice unless you focused. And her smile—it wasn’t quite right. Like she was imitating something beautiful but couldn’t quite replicate it.

“You’re lucky I was there to look after you,” she continued, her voice lilting with amusement. “There are some very bad people in the world, you know.”

Chills ran down my spine.

She was beautiful, but she was scary.

It wasn’t the normal kind of fear—like being chased by a stray dog or getting lost in a crowd. This was something deeper, something instinctual.

I felt unsafe.

No veil of security existed in my young mind. There was no logic telling me that an elegant woman sitting alone in a park was probably not dangerous.

Every part of me was screaming to leave. I scrambled to my feet, stepping away, but I hesitated and looked back at her.

“Uhh… thanks for looking out for me, but I should go now. My father must be worried…”

Now that I could see her fully, I swallowed hard. She was dressed in a black and red European-style dress, its fabric elegant and heavy. Her snow-white hair spilled down past her lap like silk, contrasting starkly with the dark fabric.

“Owwie.”

My eyes ached just looking at her. There was something overwhelming about her presence, something unnatural. Certain colors felt like swords stabbing my eyes.

Before I could move again, she gently guided me back down onto the bench, her touch feather-light but impossibly firm.

“It’s alright,” she said smoothly, as if comforting a frightened child. “I know it can be a bit scary to meet a stranger out here in the dark, but I’m a… friend of your father’s. Why don’t we have a little talk? Please, I insist.”

“Well I really- I…”

“Just for a moment.”

I was like I was unable to say no to her. As if the word was suddenly banned.

Did she know Dad? That didn’t seem possible. I had never seen him with anyone besides Fuji-nee, and even she wasn’t really his friend—more like a self-appointed older sister that he had no energy to resist. Yet, there was something undeniably familiar about this woman, something that went beyond mere recognition.

For one, she smelled like him. It wasn’t the scent of cologne or sweat or anything normal—it was something deeper, something ingrained. That faint, ashy smell, tinged with metal, the same one that lingered on Dad’s coat, on his hands, even in the walls of our home.

“Well… alright, but I should go soon.” Sitting back down, I tried to steady myself, though the weight in my stomach only grew heavier. She had an odd way of speaking, like she was stringing words together carefully, not quite unnatural, but deliberate—too deliberate. We sat in silence. She had insisted on speaking, yet she offered nothing now, content to simply observe me. The moment stretched longer than I liked, until it became unbearable.

“Uhh… aren’t you cold out here?” It was the only thing I could think to say, a clumsy attempt to fill the emptiness between us. She tilted her head—not the casual sort of tilt, but something more precise, almost mechanical. “Is it cold out?” she echoed, as if the concept itself was foreign to her. “I’ll take your word for it.”

I swallowed. That was… a strange answer. She was still looking at me. I was looking at the ground, but I could feel her stare pressing against my skin, too intense, too steady, like something crawling over me inch by inch. It made me feel small. It made me feel… angry.

Then, she placed a hand on my shoulder. I flinched. Her fingers were cold. “There’s no reason to be afraid,” she murmured, her voice smooth, careful. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” The words should have been reassuring. They weren’t.

Her lips curved into a smile, but there was something just slightly off about it. It was the kind of expression that should have been warm, soft, comforting—but instead, it was like she was mimicking something she had once seen rather than truly felt. “I hold little hatred for you, after all.”

The phrasing struck me as odd, unsettling in its specificity. Little hatred? Not none? It reminded me of the way adults sometimes spoke to children, with an almost exaggerated patience, as though trying to soften the edge of something sharp and unforgiving. A creepy, weird mom.

“Ahh, well… umm, what’s your name?” She blinked, as if I had surprised her. “My name?” A pause, then: “You can call me Iri. Short for Irisviel von Einzbern.” Her name was heavy on my tongue, too foreign, too big.

I tried to repeat it, stumbling over the syllables. “Irishi-be-ru… Vo-n Einzu-berun?” She chuckled, her fingers brushing absently through my hair as if smoothing out an invisible wrinkle. “Please, Shirou,” she said, tone indulgent. “Just Iri. No need to trouble yourself over something so complicated.”

She was strange. But maybe that was okay. Strange people could be nice too, right? Right? She went quiet again, long enough that I wondered if she had forgotten I was here. Then, abruptly, she asked, “Do you know why your father won’t teach you?”

I blinked. “Teach me what?”

“Magic, of course.”

I felt my stomach drop as if I had missed a step on the stairs. The world suddenly felt both too big and too small at once. My voice wavered despite my best efforts. “Uhh… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Dad had told me never to tell anyone.

But she only laughed. It wasn’t cruel. But it wasn’t kind, either. “Hahaha, you’re adorable,” she murmured, amusement thick in her voice. “Thinking you could keep a secret from me.” Her red eyes gleamed, shifting slightly in the dim light, as though reflecting something that wasn’t there.

Her hand, still resting on my shoulder, traced lazy circles, a slow, measured touch. “Well… Dad said I had to keep it secret from people…” Why did she know? How did she know? She smiled at me like I was being silly. “There’s no point in hiding it from me. I’m a Magus myself.”

I stiffened. “Whaaa, you’re a Magus too?” There were others? Not just Dad? She smirked, the expression both knowing and amused. “Did you really think Kiritsugu was the only one?” I scratched at my cheek, suddenly feeling foolish. “Well, I never really thought about it…” But Dad was still the strongest, right?

She sighed, shaking her head as if I had said something foolish but endearing. “That’s naïve, but I’ll forgive your cluelessness. Now, Shirou—answer the question. Why won’t your father teach you?” I hesitated. “Well… he said that it wasn’t something to take lightly.”

Her fingers curled around my wrist, her grip gentle, yet unyielding. “Are you taking it lightly?” I opened my mouth to say no, but she cut through my hesitation. “You want a lot, don’t you?” Something hot unfurled in my chest.

“You want to be a hero, don’t you?” Her voice was too soft, too certain.

I swallowed. “Yes,” I said, louder than I intended. “I have never wanted something more in my life!”

She smiled. And this time, it almost looked… right. “That’s good, Shirou.” Her hand traced along my palm, her touch cool, feather-light.

“If that is how you truly feel, then you must tell him yourself. If you want something, you need to take it.” My breath caught. “It is very important that he teaches you, understand? I would be very happy if you were to learn a little magic.”

My chest felt tight. “And I’m sure he will too, once you break through his resistance.” My pulse pounded. “Don’t let him stop you.” I swallowed. “Even if he says no.”

She leaned in. “That’s what Kiritsugu would do.”

If it’s what he would do, then… it must be the best path forward.

“I’ll do that then! I’ll tell him how I feel!”

“Hah, you’re quite the ball of energy when it comes to this, aren’t you, but…” she held my hand. With a sigh, she continued, “Shirou, You look up to him too much. You won’t gain what you think you will gain by being a blind follower. Why not accept that it is hopeless?” She never stops smiling, but there is a sense of seriousness in her words.

So I’ll be serious too…! I can do that! “No.” It must be fine. Following in your father’s footsteps is natura. It’s the only course that I can see anyway.

She chuckles. “Haha, I see. You are a strong little boy, aren’t you? Very good. But, It seems you need a little push here and then. So how about I help you with anything that your father can not? Would that be okay?” She asked as a question but in a tone allowing no disagreement.

“You’d really help?” My eyes were wide, she may seem bad at first sight, but she must be a very kind woman.

“Yes. From Magic or anything else that Kiritsugu is lacking, I will give you everything that I can. Just don’t be disappointed in the difference between Kiritsugu and me in Magecraft.” Of course, she must be embarrassed to be compared to a master like Dad.

“It’s alright. I bet no one is better than Dad at Magic. So you don’t have to be sad.” I console her smoothly.

She sighed.

“I want you to make one little promise. I don’t want you to tell your father about me. Kiritsugu would love it if I surprised him myself. You can keep that a secret, right?”

Her smile allowed no debate. “…Okay… Yeah, like a surprise party?” If that would make Dad happy, then I was glad to keep it secret.

“Unfortunately, I can’t get to you anywhere else at the moment. This place will have to be our little spot until I can make it out of this little mess I have become stuck in.”

“This place… that’s too bad. I don’t really like this place, but… I guess it can’t be helped.”

“Well I can’t help it either, and really I’d love to get out of here. That’s something I need help with though. You’ll help me out right, Shirou?”

Help…? Someone wants help. It’s the same place they all were begging me for help.

This time…

Yes, I need to help her. It was perfect, helping her would also make that man happy. “…Yeah, you seem like a good person.” She was basically hugging me now. I didn’t mind it.

“That is what I wished to hear.”

…I should get going now while I have this courage burning in me. “Well, I should go now…” But she held my hand tight, prohibiting retreat.

“Now, now… I’ll allow you to go soon, but I wanted to ask something. What do you really want?” She seemed serious about it.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Not just words. Not just ‘following’ something because it is all you know. What do you desire? A family? A peaceful life?”

I hesitated. “I… I want to help people.”

She nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded, expectant. “Hmm. That’s is expected perhaps, if naive. And?”

“And… I want to be like Kiritsugu.”

The air died.

Something shifted in the space between us.

Her yellow eyes, always watching, flickered—then sharpened into something fierce, something wrong.

The still night seemed to collapse inward.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Her hand clenched into a tight fist at her side, her body tense—too tense—like a thread pulled to its breaking point.

Then—

“No.”

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t angry.

It was worse.

It was absolute.

A finality in her voice that made my breath catch, made the pit of my stomach feel like it had been filled with something heavy and cold. “I… what?”

Her smile was gone.

Not faded.

Gone.

She was staring through me, her entire body eerily still, as though she had been turned to marble. “You do not understand what you are asking for.”

I swallowed. “But… I just want to help people. Like he does.”

She took a slow breath. And then— “You are not him.”

The words slammed into me with the weight of something immeasurable.

“You will never be him,” she whispered, voice dark, shaking. “I’m sorry, but I will not help you after all. Anything but that.”

Her fingers twitched at her sides, hands curling, unfurling, like something unseen was pulling at her.

“I don’t get it… But I’m not wrong.” My own voice was quieter now, confused, unsure.

But I’m not wrong.

Her eyes narrowed.

And then—

She was gone.

No sound. No movement. No shift in the air.

Just—

Nothing.

I blinked.

The bench was empty. I turned my head left, then right.

The always empty place was now totaly desolate.

The streetlights flickered faintly in the distance. The wind rustled through the trees. But she was—

Gone.

A sharp breath hitched in my throat.

Where did she—?

I took a step forward. My hands shook.

Then I smelled it.

Mud.

Ash.

I could feel it in my lungs now, heavy, suffocating, pressing down like a memory I shouldn’t have. She had vanished. Like she had never been there at all.

I ran away from that.

I ran to safety from those memories.

I only realized later when I walked all the way home that she had called me by name, yet I had never given it.

---

I met two new people today.

At first glance, they looked like scary demons, but once you got to know them, I think they were good. One was a tiger-striped demon with too much energy and a dangerous love for shinai. The other was a strange, pale woman with red eyes who spoke like she knew things she shouldn’t.

When I finally made it home, it was really late. I had no money for the bus, so I had to walk the whole way back.

Standing in front of the sliding door, I hesitated.

Dad was going to be mad.

Or at least, he would look at me with that unreadable face of his, like he was disappointed but didn’t want to say it out loud.

I had been gone for almost six hours.

But I had something to do.

Iri said that if I wanted to be like Dad, I had to take what I wanted. I couldn’t hesitate.

I slid the door open and walked toward the kitchen with purpose, determined to face him head-on.

But what I saw made my stomach drop.

“No… I was too late…”

The kitchen was a disaster.

Smoke still lingered in the air, the faint smell of something burnt—something unholy—clinging to the walls. I felt a tightness in my chest, my mind flashing back to the fire, the way the air had been thick with ash, the way the sky had turned orange.

I blinked. No, this wasn’t that.

This was worse.

Lying next to the table, sprawled out like she had been slain in battle, was Taiga.

Her arms wrapped around her stomach as if she were protecting herself from something inside. Her eyes were shut, her face twisted into an expression of betrayal and suffering.

It was too late for her.

She wouldn’t be coming back from this for a long time.

“Don’t die…”

The culprit sat across from her, his expression neutral, as if he had accepted his fate. In front of him, the remnants of his crime remained in a bowl, a mixture of things that should never have met.

Kiritsugu had cooked without supervision.

I stepped forward, but before I could reach the table, a weak hand grasped my sleeve.

“Shirou… please…” Taiga groaned, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hungry… the food… so bad…”

I swallowed.

I know… I really do.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix this,” I reassured her, placing my hand over hers. I wouldn’t back down from this, not again.

Her grip loosened, her body sinking into the floor. “Thank you, please, thank you…” she mumbled deliriously, her words slurred from hunger and despair.

Who was the older one here, again?

I turned to the real menace behind this disaster.

“Dad,” I said, leveling my gaze at him. “Did you cook without me?”

Kiritsugu, as if only just noticing me, blinked.

“Shirou? You’re late,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Taiga-chan was so hungry… I think it turned out well, right?”

He gestured toward the thing in his bowl.

I followed his hand, staring at what could only be described as an affront to humanity.

It was… something.

A chicken breast, burnt so black it looked like charcoal, mixed with rice that somehow managed to be both undercooked and burnt at the same time.

That alone would have been bad. But Taiga, in a desperate act of survival, must have drenched the entire thing in soy sauce, trying to cover the crime with sheer salt content.

Instead of saving it, she had made it worse.

What sat in the bowl now was not food. It was a mistake. A cruel, malicious entity.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I saw it now. I saw why Dad and Taiga got along so well.

“Dad, I’m throwing this out,” I declared.

He didn’t even argue. Just sat there, nodding slowly. “Yeah… that’s probably for the best.”

He looked tired. Not the usual kind of tired—this was defeat. A man who had lost a war.

Twenty minutes later, after opening every window and airing out the kitchen, I placed proper food on the table.

Chicken, not burnt beyond recognition. Rice, not inedible. Vegetables, sliced properly. The way things were supposed to be.

Dad drank his black tea in silence, staring into the distance, perhaps reflecting on how truly terrible he was at cooking.

Taiga, meanwhile, had been revived by the sight of real food.

She pounced like a starving tiger, immediately shoveling rice into her mouth with desperate energy.

“Please, mind your manners, Taiga,” I said, watching her with mild horror.

“Mmrhh?” She swallowed, then grumbled, “Errr, fine. And call me Fuji-nee.”

“Yeah, yeah, Fuji-nee,” I sighed. “Now don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Kiritsugu, finally coming back to reality, took a slow bite and nodded. “Thank you, Shirou. I’m not sure how it ended up like that.”

I looked at him.

“Dad, I think it’s time to let me do the cooking from now on,” I said firmly. “Let me give back to you for what you’ve given me.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know… I don’t want to put it all on you. You’re only seven years old, Shirou. We’ll order fast food.”

“That’s true, but—”

Before I could argue, I was tackled from the side into an abusive tiger hug.

“Shirou, that really was great!” Taiga practically shouted into my ear. “Kiritsugu-san, please, you must let him make all of my—err, our meals from now on!”

It was clear whose stomach she was really fighting for.

Dad sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine, Shirou. But Taiga-chan has to be there whenever you use the stove.”

Taiga straightened, saluting. “Leave it to me, Kiritsugu-san! Under my close supervision, Shirou will be very careful while making me meals!”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or concerned.

Maybe Iri was right.

Maybe just being a little confident really did go a long way. After cleaning up her bowl and then prowling like a cat onto my bowl, Fuji-nee asked the question that I thought would have come earlier.

“Anyway, Shirou, where were you off to? You were gone for almost six hours!”

I tensed.

I had known this was coming.

“Well, I took a walk like I told you…” I began slowly. “I just ended up, you know… maybe, falling asleep for a little while.”

And meeting a strange woman in a black and red dress. And having a weird dream about a boy being sacrificed. And feeling like I had met something I wasn’t supposed to meet.

Dad was the one who spoke next, his voice quieter. “Shirou… do try to be careful. There are bad strangers who would do you harm.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t trust anyone who claims to be a friend of mine,” he added. “I’m new to this town. I don’t really know anyone except Taiga’s grandfather.”

My stomach dropped.

I had been right.

Kiritsugu knew no one here.

So then… who was she?

I thought about telling him.

I really did.

But she had made me promise.

And if she really was someone from his past, wouldn’t it make him happy to see her again?

“…You didn’t see any strangers, did you?”

I opened my mouth.

But before I could say anything, Taiga shook me violently.

“Shirou, you must be more careful! Imagine if you were kidnapped! Who would cook for me then?!” I can see what she values most… “Oh, sorry, Shirou, were you going to say something?” She’s not completely oblivious to reality, though I think that she prefers her own.

But it was too late now. I had made a promise not to tell.

I forced a casual shrug, keeping my expression as neutral as I could. “Oh, no… Nothing.”

Dad studied me for a second longer than I liked, but then he leaned back, taking another sip of his tea.

“Well… when I was your age, I went on walks all the time.” He mused, as if recalling something distant, something foggy. “Hmm. I have an idea. How about Taiga-chan accompanies you from time to time?”

I blinked.

Dad never talked about what he did as a kid.

Before I could think of a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, Fuji-nee was already on board, clapping her hands together. “That sounds great! I need to improve my endurance for Kendo anyway! And then after we can take a long nap together, and then you can cook me lunch, and then dinner, and then—oh, Shirou! You can be my training partner!”

She was practically vibrating with excitement, rattling off a never-ending list of things she had decided for me.

I sighed.

They decided that for me…

I wasn’t against the idea, but I couldn’t imagine Taiga and Irisviel ever being in the same place at the same time.

That thought alone made me shudder.

There was no way I would survive.

“That’s okay with me,” I finally said, giving up. If it made them happy, then I was willing to bend a little.

Dinner finished, I began cleaning up, stacking the bowls neatly in the sink. But before I could finish, Dad turned to Fuji-nee.

“Shirou-kun would welcome a playing partner. What about tonight? Taiga-chan, you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. It is your family’s land, after all.”

“No, that’s alright,” Taiga waved a hand dismissively, grabbing her things. “It’s not that late. Japan is a peaceful country, and any villain foolish enough to challenge me would face the wrath of my shinai!”

I froze.

“Wait… please, not that shinai.” My voice was weak.

Dad… had betrayed me.

“Didn’t you put the shinai away, Dad?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing his chin like he wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, “we came to an agreement on it. Taiga-chan will only hit people who have weapons of their own. Well… actually, you are the lone exception.”

I felt my stomach drop.

“She is given complete freedom when it comes to your punishment.”

There was no justice in this house.

“Hahahaha!” Taiga cackled, raising her shinai like a conqueror standing over their fallen enemy. “You hear that, Shirou? I will be a forgiving mistress, of course.”

I narrowed my eyes.

If she wanted to play dirty, then so could I.

“In that case,” I said smoothly, “you’ll just have to cook for yourself. Or better yet, you can have Dad’s cooking.”

The effect was immediate.

Taiga paled, her victorious grin wiped clean as a look of genuine horror overtook her face.

“You wouldn’t…”

I smiled. “Oh, I absolutely would.”

She dropped the shinai like it had lost all meaning, hands raised in surrender. “Wait! I take it back, I swear it! I’ll only hit you if you deserve it, okay?”

This confidence thing was great.

People really would do what you said if you learned how to pull the right strings.

“Fine,” I relented. I mean, she was just a girl. How strong could she really be?

Dad chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Haha, you’re becoming quite the negotiator, Shirou.”

I shrugged, going back to washing the dishes.

Fuji-nee stretched with an exaggerated yawn. “Well, it’s time for me to leave. What a long day. Aaaaaahhhh~ Thank you!” She bowed to dad.

Her yawn made me yawn in response.

With an energetic step, she ran out the door, waving her shinai around like a maniac as she disappeared into the night.

“Thanks for the lesson, Kiritsugu-san! See you later, Otouto!“

I exhaled deeply, finally allowing myself to relax. The house instantly felt quieter. Less chaotic. I should have felt relieved. Instead, it just felt… empty.

As I finish washing the dishes, Dad drinks his tea in silence. It’s the only thing he makes well—black tea, bitter and strong. Too strong for me. That’s just how he is. During the day, he moves around like he’s playing in someone else’s life, letting Taiga pull him into her chaos, letting me follow him without question. But at night, he slows down. He thinks more. He becomes someone quieter, someone heavier.

I clench my hands into fists. I have to say it. Now or never.

“Kiritsugu… Old Man.”

His eyes lift from his tea. “Yes, Shirou-kun?”

I don’t answer right away. My chest feels tight. My voice sticks in my throat. Just say it.

“I want you to teach me magic.”

The words come out small, too quiet.

“Say that again?”

I swallow hard, fingers digging into my palms. I have to be clear. I can’t let my voice shake. “Uhh, well, err…” I sound nervous, weak, like I don’t really mean it. But then—

That feeling again. A fire deep inside me, the same one I felt when Iri spoke to me. It pushes me forward.

“Dad, I want you to teach me magic.” I lift my chin, trying to stand taller. “I know you think I don’t understand it, but I do. I know it’s serious. And I think…” I take a breath. “I think I could do a lot for people.”

He doesn’t answer. He just sits there, staring at me. The tea cup rests in his hand, still full. He hasn’t taken another sip. The silence stretches. I wait.

Finally, he sighs. He places the cup down, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

“Hmm. I see.”

My heart drops. That’s it? That’s what he says when he’s about to say no. He doesn’t think I’m ready. I open my mouth, about to argue, about to beg, but then he holds up a hand.

“Shirou,” he says, his voice low and steady, “to be a magus means you will walk with death.” The words hit harder than I expect. “You will step into a world where people kill without hesitation. A world where power decides everything. Is that really what you want?”

I don’t think. I don’t need to.

“Yes,” I say.

The answer is easy. Dad walked this path, so it can’t be wrong.

Kiritsugu watches me, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs again, rubbing his forehead.

“…Then give me a week to think about it.” I blink. A week? That means… he’s considering it. I still have a chance. “But,” he adds, voice firm, “if I decide no, then that will be final.”

I nod quickly. “Okay.”

That’s fine. I’ll just convince him.

He stands up, stretching slightly. “Good. I’m going to bed.”

Just like that, he walks away.

I stay where I am, staring at the empty space he left behind. I had expected… more. A warning. A lesson. A test. But he just left.

I clean up the rest of the kitchen in silence, then head to my room. Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling. So much happened today. Taiga. Iri. The strange feeling that something is changing. That I’m stepping into something bigger than I understand.

My eyes close. As I drift off, a name echoes in my mind.

Angra Mainyu.