The night air outside Kuoh Academy was cool, the kind that made each breath feel crisp and grounding.
The town was quiet now, the chaos of the evening giving way to soft streetlight halos and distant cicadas humming into the darkness.
Shirou walked at a measured pace, his bag slung over one shoulder, Florence beside him with calm steps and a composed gaze. The glowing lights of passing homes flickered in her eyes, but her presence was quiet. Rooted.
It felt surreal—having her there—not as a fading spirit, but as a solid presence. A companion.
"You'll have an identity soon," Shirou said, breaking the silence. "A proper one. School records, ID… all that."
Florence turned to glance at him, one eyebrow gently raised. "And the others?"
He blinked. "Others?"
"The other six," she clarified, calm as ever. "You still have six Servant Cards. If you plan to summon them—and I imagine you will—shouldn't you think ahead? It's one thing to create one false identity. But if you do it one at a time, asking for help again and again, it becomes cumbersome. Politically… and socially."
Shirou slowed, glancing at her sidelong. "I hadn't thought that far yet."
Florence nodded slightly. "That's why I'm here."
He smirked faintly, but the thought lingered. He slipped a hand into his jacket pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth edges of the remaining cards—six of them, humming softly with dormant potential.
"Do you think the others would want this?" he asked quietly. "To be… devils?"
Florence's gaze shifted upward, watching the stars for a moment before replying.
"I think," she said, "it would be their decision. Just as it was mine."
Shirou nodded slowly. "Right."
He didn't know yet who he'd summon next. He didn't even know how they'd react to being pulled into a new world, into new lives. But he knew one thing—
He'd offer them the same freedom he offered Florence.
.
The soft clatter of a knife against the cutting board was the only sound in the kitchen for a while.
The Emiya residence was still, tucked into the peaceful edges of Kuoh Town, its modest traditional walls filled now with the scent of vegetables simmering, oil warming, and rice steaming. The calm was familiar to Shirou—anchoring. He'd cooked through fire, guilt, confusion. Cooking was steady.
Tonight was no different.
Well… mostly.
Florence stood beside him at the counter, sleeves rolled up with clinical precision, slicing carrots with such surgical efficiency that it almost made him nervous. She moved without hesitation, each cut perfectly uniform, and yet somehow still graceful.
"You're good at this," he commented.
"I once fed an entire field hospital with little more than boiled grain and dried roots," she said, tone matter-of-fact. "Cutting vegetables is relaxing by comparison."
Shirou chuckled softly, stirring the soup. "Guess we're lucky we started simple."
Florence glanced at the cutting board, then back to him. "You should cook more."
He raised an eyebrow.
"In case the others arrive," she added. "You'll have mouths to feed. And some of them… may be disoriented. Food will help."
He smiled faintly, nodding. "Good point."
They worked in quiet harmony for a moment longer before curiosity pulled the words out of him.
"…How did it feel?" he asked, keeping his voice low. "Being summoned, I mean. From… wherever you were before."
Florence paused for only a second, setting the knife down with a soft tap.
"Not dissimilar from other summoning rituals," she said, eyes thoughtful. "There was a call. Purpose. I heard a voice—not spoken, but felt—asking for someone who could protect. Who could heal."
She looked at him then, calm but sure. "You were lucky."
"Lucky?" he echoed.
"You were holding the Berserker card," she said, picking up a bowl and moving to the sink. "If you had asked for strength, for destruction… you might have gotten someone far harder to contain. A Berserker with full Mad Enhancement, no Command Seals, and no preparation? That could have been disastrous."
Shirou instinctively looked down at his right hand.
No markings. No red lines. No seals.
He swallowed. "...Right. I don't have command seals."
"You don't," Florence confirmed. "Which makes your words, your presence, and your intent all the more important."
He glanced at the other cards resting on the counter beside his schoolbag. "So… can I choose who I summon?"
Florence shook her head slowly, carefully wiping her hands.
"Not precisely," she said. "You don't choose names. But you can shape the response. You can call out with a need—for healing, for speed, for protection—and the card that resonates with that intent may answer."
Shirou exhaled, leaning slightly against the counter. "So… I'm not summoning blind. Just… vaguely."
"A better kind of gambling," Florence replied lightly.
He gave a dry laugh, then smiled. "I'll take it."
The soup simmered gently behind them. The scent of miso and vegetables wafted through the air, familiar and grounding.
For now, it was peaceful.
.
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of food—broths, roasted vegetables, simmered rice, and more. It had taken hours, but Shirou had cooked enough to feed a small platoon. The countertops were full, trays cooling on the table, pots and dishes stacked in tidy rows.
Florence wiped her hands on a clean towel, then looked over the spread with a faint nod of approval. "This should be sufficient. Even if a few of them arrive with appetites."
Shirou exhaled, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "Good."
But then he turned toward the wooden box on the counter—the one containing the remaining six Servant cards. The faint magical hum within was steady and constant, each card resting innocently inside, quietly brimming with potential.
He stared at them for a moment. The room felt heavier, suddenly.
Florence noticed.
"Are you going to summon them?" she asked, already guessing the answer.
Shirou nodded. "Before we eat. I want to do it now. They deserve a place. And if I wait too long, I'll just second-guess myself."
Florence crossed her arms. "Then start with the least physically overwhelming. That way if something goes wrong, we can still contain the situation."
Shirou looked at her. "Assassin or Caster?"
She nodded. "Assassins are typically weaker in raw power, even if deadlier in precision. It would be safer."
Shirou hesitated. "I… don't feel ready for someone with that kind of stealth or skillset watching me."
Florence shrugged. "You're not choosing for comfort. You're choosing for stability."
He sighed. "Right. Assassin it is."
She watched him reach for the card but added, "No women."
Shirou blinked. "What?"
Florence raised an eyebrow, expression cool. "Considering your… Eroge Protagonist EX (Corrupted) flaw, I strongly advise against summoning a romantically inclined woman. That could escalate quickly."
He flushed. "You… haven't forgotten that, then?"
"You told me while you were cutting carrots," she said, completely deadpan.
He groaned softly, hand on his face. "Right."
Florence's tone softened just slightly. "You're fortunate. My heart was never set on romance, only medicine. That's likely the only reason I will be able to function without being affected."
Shirou coughed and quickly changed the subject. He picked up the Assassin card from the box—smooth, light, cool to the touch. His fingers trembled slightly as he held it up in front of him, letting his thoughts focus.
"I need someone grounded," he whispered. "Male. Loyal. With a strong moral compass. Someone I can trust."
The card trembled faintly.
He glanced sideways. Florence raised one unimpressed eyebrow.
"…What?" he muttered.
"Nothing," she said. "Just noting how you're summoning by wishful thinking. Very you."
He narrowed his eyes at her, just as the card flared with light—a silver glow that pulsed once, then began to expand.
"Oh—!"
He let go just in time.
The card rose into the air, suspended mid-air, pulsing with increasing brilliance. A magic circle bloomed beneath it—pale silver and deep blue runes etching themselves across the floor in perfect sequence. The room dimmed, all light focusing on the summoning.
Florence stepped calmly back, eyes watchful, calculating.
Shirou shielded his eyes as the light burst—
The glow reached a crescendo, the entire kitchen bathed in shimmering silver and blue as the card dissolved mid-air.
The summoning circle pulsed like a heartbeat, and from within the light, a figure emerged—graceful, tall, lean.
Boots touched the floor with silence, as if the air itself had cushioned his descent.
The glow dimmed, and there stood a tall man clad in elegant armor, his lean torso exposed, intricate rose tattoos sprawled across his chest and shoulder like inked artistry. His long black hair fell behind him like a curtain of silk, and his piercing green eyes scanned the room with sharp awareness and poised calm. His movements were exact—like a dancer or predator—graceful and deliberate.
He raised one gloved hand to his chest and bowed deeply.
"Assassin-class Servant—Yan Qing—reporting for duty."
His voice was smooth, refined, but not arrogant. There was an old-world grace to him, wrapped in a deadly stillness.
Shirou blinked, momentarily stunned. Florence, next to him, narrowed her eyes slightly—assessing, but not alarmed.
Yan Qing rose from his bow and offered Shirou a small, wry smile. "You're the Master who called me, right? Can't say I expected a kitchen… or the smell of miso."
"You're not the only one surprised," Shirou muttered, recovering quickly. "I'm Shirou. This is Florence—she was summoned first."
Yan Qing turned to Florence, giving a smaller nod. "A pleasure. You feel… anchored, if darker in aura."
"I've been resurrected," she replied coolly. "You may be too, if all goes well."
He hummed thoughtfully. "Intriguing."
Shirou, still holding the now-dormant summoning card, let out a slow breath. "I asked for someone loyal. Grounded. With a strong moral compass."
Yan Qing's smile turned lopsided. "Then lucky for both of us—I'm exactly who you wanted."
Florence folded her arms. "His traits don't activate anything dangerous?"
Shirou shook his head, relaxing slightly. "No. I think I'm safe."
"Well, mostly," Yan Qing said, tilting his head. "I'm an assassin. But I'm not the kind that betrays his master." He gestured lightly to the room. "Though… this is the first time I've been summoned outside of a Holy Grail War. It's interesting. My body doesn't feel strained from lack of prana. That's new."
Shirou exchanged a glance with Florence, who nodded. "It's because of the Grail fragment he carries. A Lesser Grail stabilizing the summon."
Yan Qing raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Now that explains a lot."
Shirou nodded slowly. "You'll need an identity, too, if you decide to be resurrected. Fake papers. School records, maybe."
Yan Qing chuckled. "Paperwork's no problem. Just don't put me in a uniform. I look terrible in ties."
Shirou smiled faintly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Florence, for once, allowed a ghost of a smile to tug at her lips. "One down."
Shirou looked at the remaining cards on the table, then back at his new ally. The house was growing more alive with each step.
And this—this was only the beginning.
.
.
.
I'm alive!!!
And tired af
For a couple of weeks I've been doing late shifts and those are tiring. Also, it's summer here and I hate this season because I'm more sweat than person. Luckily, I'll have a vacation in two weeks, so let's hope I've better shifts after that T.T
(Most of my close family is going to return to our Mother Country so I've been helping with the preparations that didn't help with the busy period. My mom is going in a couple days and two of my sisters will go in a couple of weeks)
Anyway, sorry.