I sat there, staring at the sun with my reinforced eyes, letting the golden light fill my vision until it was all I could see. It was warm, almost comforting, and for a moment I let myself pretend that this was all there was — a beautiful morning, a body that felt strong and alive, and a world that, at least from up here, looked peaceful.
But I knew I was lying to myself.
I was distracting myself from the truth — from the memory of last night, from the image of eighteen men crumpling under gunfire, their blood pooling on the cracked pavement. The smell of it still clung to me, metallic and heavy, even though I'd washed. My mind kept replaying the way some of them had looked at me in that final moment — shock, fear, disbelief. I told myself they were criminals, that they would have killed me if I'd hesitated, but that didn't stop the cold shiver that ran down my spine.
And then there were the dreams.
I'd woken in the night — or maybe I'd never truly woken at all — to find myself wading through a lake of blood. The surface rippled with every step, and from it rose pale, grasping hands that twisted and warped into blades. Above me, the sky was filled with gears made of bone, grinding endlessly, their sound like the gnashing of teeth. Just remembering it made my skin crawl. I pushed the thought away, telling myself I'd deal with it later, when I was home. I knew that was unhealthy, but right now, I didn't have the strength to face it.
I blinked, letting the reinforcement fade from my eyes, the UV sting reminding me that I was still here, still in the morning light. And then I turned my thoughts to the other problem — the fact that I'd woken as me in the morning, not as Shirou. That was on me. I'd stayed out too late, chasing the rush of vigilantism, chasing the kind of battle experience you can't get in a shed.
People might not understand, but training alone gets… boring. It's not like a game where the grind is fun because you know the story's waiting for you. Here, the grind is just… the grind. And in this world, the best lessons come from real combat, from testing yourself against something that can hit back.
Still, I couldn't ignore the truth: the self-hypnosis had run its course. It had been useful — a way to practice without worrying about slipping up in conversation, a way to keep Shirou's memories at arm's length so I could stay myself. But it was also a wall, and walls can become cages.
I was afraid. Afraid that if I let those memories in, if I let Shirou's mind bleed into mine, I'd lose myself. His mental scars, his obsessive goal — what if they became mine? What if I stopped being me? That was an existential crisis I'd been avoiding for weeks. But I couldn't avoid it forever. If I was going to live here — truly live — I had to accept what I was.
I reinforced my legs and began moving, leaping from rooftop to rooftop until I spotted an alley. I dropped down, let the reinforcement fade, and flagged a taxi. I had it drop me a block from home — no need to invite questions from anyone who might be watching.
When I reached my street, I vaulted up to the roof without even using reinforcement, just to feel the raw strength in my body. I ran across the tiles, the wind in my hair, until the storage shed came into view. I couldn't resist — I threw in a double front flip, landed in a roll, and sprinted straight inside.
I shut the door behind me and my eyes fell on the circular array — the same kind Irisviel had used to draw mana from the earth. I stripped down, activated my circuits, and felt the array hum to life beneath me. Lying back against it, I closed my eyes and looked inward.
Avalon was there, as always, surrounded by a field of green. I reached for it, and with the familiarity that comes from years of carrying it inside me, I linked it to the mana flowing in from the array. If things went wrong — if Unlimited Blade Works spiraled out of control during the merge — Avalon would have the energy it needed to keep me alive.
Then I went deeper.
The wall was there, vast and imposing — the barrier of self-hypnosis that had kept Shirou's memories locked away. Standing before it, I felt small. The thought of it breaking, of that tidal wave of memories crashing into me, made my chest tighten. I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady, but the fear was still there, gnawing at me.
I was on the edge of panic when a golden light washed over me. Warmth spread through my body, and the fear ebbed. I looked up to see Avalon shining, its glow wrapping around me like a shield. I whispered my thanks, then reached out and shattered the wall.
The memories hit me like a storm.
Fire. Everywhere. A sea of flames devouring the city, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. Bodies lay where they'd fallen, twisted and blackened. I turned, and behind me were two figures — auburn hair, faces I knew but couldn't bear to see like this — engulfed in fire. I ran.
Voices called out for help, but I was too injured, too weak to stop. Each cry I ignored cut deeper than the wounds on my body. The black mud clung to me, seeping into my skin, feeding my self-loathing. But I kept moving. My parents — my parents — had given everything so I could live. I couldn't let it end here.
Names slipped away from me as I walked. Friends I'd known since childhood, people I'd spent holidays with — gone, erased to make room for survival. I stumbled past children trapped under rubble, their screams chasing me as the fire closed in. I knew some of them. Or I had. Their names were gone now, swallowed by the same void that had taken so much else.
I kept going until my body gave out. I lay there, staring up at the ashen sky, the faint echo of Emiya - faith/denial playing somewhere deep in my mind. I raised my hand, reaching for something — anything — and someone found me.
He smiled. Even in the ruins, even with death all around us, he smiled and thanked me for living. I wanted to smile back, but I couldn't. Not then. Maybe not ever.