Shirou had been turning the thought over in his mind all day. Now that Rin knew he was a magus — and had accepted it — the next step was telling her about Sakura. About Zouken. About the truth that had been festering in the shadows for years. But the timing was wrong. He didn't know if Zouken's familiars were watching, listening. Destroying them outright would only make the old worm suspicious. So for now, he'd have to wait, keep his expression neutral, and play the part.
He let his gaze drift around the courtyard, eyes scanning the edges of the school grounds. To anyone watching — anyone like Zouken — it would look like he was just being cautious, checking for eavesdroppers. Inside, his mind was already rehearsing the conversation he wanted to have later, in a place where no one could hear.
"Tohsaka," he said at last.
She looked up from her notes, one eyebrow arched. "Yes, Emiya?"
"Thank you," he said simply. "For believing in me. I would have been… heartbroken if I lost you in my life." He let the words hang there, punctuated by a small, genuine smile.
Her eyes flicked to his, and for a moment she just stared. Then the meaning sank in, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks. She turned her head away, trying to hide it. "Where do you get off saying things like that?"
"I'm not lying, Tohsaka," he said, still smiling. "I really would be sad." He reached out and took her hand, his grip warm but not insistent.
She glanced back at him, the blush deepening. "Well… of course you would be sad. Anyone would, when presented with me in their life." She tried to school her expression into something smug, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. She didn't pull her hand away.
Three hours later, the final bell rang. Students poured out of the building in noisy clusters. Shirou stood near the front entrance, scanning the crowd for Rin. He spotted Sakura first, making her way toward him. He stepped forward to intercept her.
"I'll be hanging out with Tohsaka today," he told her.
A shadow crossed her face — brief, but unmistakable. Before it could settle, he added, "I'll bring you back a treat."
The change was instant. Her eyes lit up, her posture softened. "Alright, senpai. I'll tell Taiga you won't be home for dinner."
As she walked away, Shirou's thoughts darkened. That was rude, he chided himself. He shouldn't have compared her to a puppy in his head. But the truth was, even with all of Shirou's memories and feelings toward the people in his life, there was a part of him — small, but sharp — that wanted to end this whole ordeal the quick way. To kill Zouken. To kill Sakura if it came to it. Damn the consequences. That part of him was easy to ignore most days. But it was there.
Rin appeared then, striding out of the building with her usual poise. She walked right past him without a word, and he fell into step beside her. No conversation — not here, not in front of the other students. The Ice Queen had a reputation to maintain.
Once they were clear of the school gates, she spoke. "So? What else did you need to tell me?"
"Patience," he said. "Your house has the wards we need. I'd rather talk there."
She gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine."
The walk to the Tohsaka residence was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. When they reached it, Shirou slowed, taking in the sight. The place was even more impressive in person than it had ever looked on a screen — elegant lines, proud architecture. But up close, he could see the signs of neglect: ivy creeping too far up the walls, moss edging the stone steps, a few windows dulled by dust.
Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the faint scent of old wood and incense. Rin led him to the sitting room, then turned to face him, arms crossed.
"Alright, Emiya. I kept my mouth shut all the way here, just like you asked. Now tell me — what was so important you couldn't say it at school?"
Shirou grimaced. "It's about Sakura," he began. And then he told her.
The words came slowly at first, then faster, spilling out in a low, steady voice. He told her about Zouken, about the worms, about the years of abuse hidden behind polite smiles and school uniforms. He told her what Sakura had endured, what she was still enduring. He told her about the nights he'd seen her flinch at shadows, the way her eyes sometimes went distant, as if she were somewhere else entirely.
As he spoke, Rin's expression shifted. Confusion at first, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece together what he was saying. Then anger, sharp and hot, flashing in her eyes. Shock, as the details sank in. Back to anger, deeper this time, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Rage, pure and unfiltered, her jaw tight, her breathing sharp. And then… nothing. Her face smoothed into a blank mask, her eyes unreadable.
When he finished, the silence was heavy. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She just stood there, staring at him with that empty expression.
Seconds stretched into minutes. The quiet pressed in on him, and for the first time in a long while, Shirou felt a flicker of fear. Not fear of her anger — he could handle that. Fear of not knowing what she was thinking. Fear of what she might decide to do.
"Rin," he said finally, his voice careful. "Say something."
Nothing.
He took a step closer. "I know it's a lot. I know it's—"
Her hand came up, palm out, stopping him. She drew in a slow breath, then let it out. "I'm thinking," she said, her voice flat.
He nodded, but the knot in his chest didn't loosen. He'd seen her angry before. He'd seen her smug, exasperated, even amused. But this… this was different. This was Rin Tohsaka, magus of the Tohsaka line, weighing her next move with the cold precision of someone who knew exactly how much power she held.
And Shirou could only wait.
Rin's reply was ice‑cold, but Shirou could hear the strain beneath it. "Why did you tell me this, Emiya? What made you think I would do anything with this kind of knowledge? Sakura isn't anything to me on any personal level, and while her circumstances are tragic, as a mage, I have no right to interfere with the work of another."
He knew that tone. It was the voice of someone building a wall brick by brick, hiding the truth of what they felt. He could see the faint tension in her jaw, the way her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second before locking into that detached magus stare. She was angry. She was sad. And she was burying it.
And it made him furious.
Why? Why hide now, after everything he'd told her? The Rin he'd imagined — the one from the "story" — had been sharp but ultimately compassionate. The Rin in front of him was colder, more guarded. And maybe he'd been fooling himself thinking they were the same.
He smoothed his expression into something calm, even as the heat in his chest built. "You're right, Tohsaka. Why am I telling you this? Maybe it's because I thought you were a good person. Seems I was wrong."
The faint wince that crossed her face was all the confirmation he needed. Good. That hit.
"Since I can't count on your aid," he went on, "I was wondering if you could at least listen to my plan and tell me where it's weak."
She hesitated, clearly expecting him to argue or plead. Instead, he was already moving on. That alone was enough to make her curious. "…Fine. I'll hear it."
"Thank you," he said, and began. "Throughout my time as a magus, I've made certain inroads with the Japanese military. Enough to call in favors. Firepower."
Her eyes narrowed. "Skipping over the fact that you have military contacts — which is an entire can of worms — you can't possibly be thinking—"
"Precisely," he cut in. "Without your help, there's no reason for finesse. Brute force becomes my only option. I'd have the entire mansion bombed to hell and back. Call it a gas explosion." His lips curled into a cruel smile. "And Sakura… she'd have the honor of dying by my hands. The hands of the senpai she cherishes. Something I know she wouldn't refuse."
Rin's eyes widened. She'd expected something reckless, but this? The casual way he spoke about leveling a residential area, about killing Sakura himself, was… insane. And yet, part of her — the magus part — couldn't help but register the efficiency of it. That realization made her stomach turn.
Shirou saw the disgust and confusion flicker across her face and smirked inwardly. "Well?" he prompted.
Her composure cracked. "Are you out of your mind, Emiya?! Sakura cares about you, trusts you — and you speak so casually about killing her! What kind of monster are you?!"
"I'm the monster?!" His voice rose, sharp with anger. "Why the hell do you care? I thought Sakura was nothing to you. That her situation was none of your concern. The way you're talking doesn't sound like someone who doesn't give a damn."
Rin froze for a heartbeat, then snapped back. "I couldn't care less about Sakura. What shocks me is how you can so easily decide to kill her after giving me that whole speech about her circumstances — and with a smile on your face!"
"Are you sure you're even a magus?" Shirou shot back. "What magus would be shocked by my actions? This is minor. I thought, as a magus yourself, you'd praise my quick decision-making and elimination of a threat. Turns out you were the wrong choice as heir to the Tohsaka name."
That last barb landed. Rin's eyes flashed, and before he could react, a Gandr shot slammed into his chest. The impact staggered him back, gouging twin furrows in the floor. His uniform hung in tatters, revealing the black chestpiece of his armor.
Unfazed, he projected a storm of knives and sent them hurtling toward her. She reinforced her legs, weaving through the barrage, and closed the distance in a heartbeat. A punch — he slipped it. A kick — he caught it on his forearm and countered with a reinforced elbow. She blocked, drove a knee into his gut, and followed with a flurry of blows that left him reeling.
He swung a desperate haymaker. She punished it with a sharp strike to his tricep that sent pain lancing down his arm. Gritting his teeth, he yanked a flashbang from his belt, pulled the pin, and tossed it at her feet. The detonation bought him a few seconds, but not much.
She's better than me, he realized grimly. Petty criminals and mercenaries had fallen to brute force. Rin was something else entirely — skill, precision, adaptability. And she was angry.
Another Gandr slammed into his chest, then another, and another. He tried to block with projected knives, but they shattered under the barrage. His hands throbbed from the impacts.
Trace on. Two nameless swords flared into being, their edges catching the light. He cut one Gandr in half, then another, then another, until Rin shifted tactics. Two gems arced toward him. He sliced one, but his instincts screamed — he brought his arms up just in time to block the explosion.
The blast blinded him for a moment, and Rin was there, driving a brutal punch into his gut that sent him crashing into the wall. "It didn't have to come to this, Emiya," she said coldly. "But you brought it on yourself the moment you threatened my sister. Now sleep."
She began the incantation for a sleeping spell — and he lunged, Miyamoto Iori's sword in hand, the traced knowledge guiding his movements. She leapt back, casting a slicing wind spell. He reinforced his mind and eyes, reading the vectors, slipping through the gaps. Swords bloomed in the air around her, their sizes shifting as he closed in.
He leapt high, bringing his blade down in a crushing arc — and Rin, even cornered, adapted. "Vier Stil Erschießung!" Magic bullets slammed into him mid‑descent, slowing him just enough for her to shatter the swords and roll clear. His strike carved a six‑foot crater into the floor.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she roared. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!" A ruby flashed in her hand. "Sechs, fünf, vier… Vernichten Sie den Schatten des Feindes!" The explosion engulfed him.
Pain tore a scream from his throat. Trace on. He poured everything into his legs, blurring forward through the hail of spells, and dropkicked her through multiple walls into the backyard. She hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up already reinforcing her legs.
He turned to leave — and slammed into a bounded field. Microseconds later, she was back, a beam of pure fire lancing toward him. He twisted aside, but agony flared along his left arm. Rin's gasp drew his gaze — and he saw it. Third‑degree burns, the skin blackened and split. Tiny blades pushed through the charred flesh, knitting a crude protective layer.
His stomach lurched. His knees buckled. He couldn't feel the arm, but he couldn't look away from it either. The sight was… wrong. Too wrong.
A floorboard creaked. Instinct took over. He reinforced his legs, projected a firing line of AKs, and unleashed them. Rin vaulted over the barrage, shield flaring. He conjured a bow and sword, nocked the blade, and poured mana into it until it thrummed on the edge of detonation.
Her eyes widened. She sprinted forward, but he leapt, snarling, "FUCK YOU!" The arrow flew, the explosion ripping through the room.
By the time the dust settled, he was gone — slipping through the hole her fire had made, his appearance altered to the Silver‑Eyed Raven. Pain and anger gnawed at him as he fled. The fight had left more than burns and bruises. It had left a question he couldn't shake.
Is it even worth it? Making connections, letting people in — was it just a liability? Maybe Archer had the right idea. Cut the ties. Focus on the objective. After all… these weren't really his people. And maybe they never would be.