"Ais."
"Brother!"
"Listen!"
"Shirou-nii!"
"It's not what you think!"
"Onii-chan!"
"I understand. I'll teach you!"
Shirou let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of Ais's persistence. In the end, he couldn't refuse. That simple word — Onii-chan — carried an overwhelming power against which he had no defense.
Not even he could resist it.
"Tomorrow morning, wait for me in the courtyard."
"Yes!"
Ais replied with a sparkle in her eyes, as if she had just conquered the world. That single nod from Shirou was enough to make her jump out of bed with renewed energy.
She noticed the exhaustion written across his face and, not wanting to bother him further, hurried toward the door. But before leaving, she suddenly turned back, her long golden hair flowing gracefully with the motion.
"Take care, Onii-chan!"
And with that, she vanished down the hallway.
"Hah… finally gone. What a persistent girl..."
Shirou collapsed onto his back on the bed, burying his face into the soft pillow. His left arm rested over his eyes, shielding him from the dim lamplight. Even exhausted, he couldn't fall asleep.
His thoughts lingered on her.
The sound of Ais's voice calling him Onii-chan echoed again and again in his mind. Each time he recalled it, his heart softened as though it were melting. A faint, involuntary smile slipped from his weary lips.
"What a girl…" he murmured, before finally succumbing to sleep.
---
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when Shirou was already on his feet. The golden glow of dawn painted the sky, and the crisp morning air woke him better than any coffee ever could.
"Knowing her personality… she's probably already waiting for me."
Descending the stairs quickly, he crossed the quiet hallway and headed to the courtyard. As he had predicted, there she was.
Standing tall, sword in hand, her blonde hair swayed lightly in the cold breeze. Her serious yet eager expression betrayed her impatience.
"You really are restless."
"Yes, I am, Onii-chan."
Shirou felt his chest tighten. That neutral, almost expressionless way she said Onii-chan hit harder than any smile could. He knew she didn't mean it that way, but it felt like provocation. Almost like a secret weapon designed to unsettle him.
Conflicted, the only response he found was to raise his hand and give her a light pat on the head.
"Ais, before we start, I need to tell you something."
She looked up at him curiously. Seeing the seriousness in his expression, she straightened herself and listened intently.
"Yesterday, when I said I wouldn't do it… it wasn't because I wanted to reject you." Shirou drew a deep breath. "It's because I don't really have a style of swordsmanship of my own."
Ais blinked, confused.
"You may not know this, but my magecraft… Projection… doesn't just create the weapon, it also carries part of the experience tied to it."
He closed his eyes briefly, searching for words. "My fighting style is like a patched-up cloth… stitched together from fragments of countless different swordsmen. I fight with memories that aren't entirely mine."
Ais's expression darkened, her golden eyes dimming with melancholy.
"Then… I insisted for nothing… I'm sorry. I was too stubborn."
Shirou felt a pang in his chest at the sight of regret on that face that was usually so calm.
He knew. Just as he had enemies to face, Ais carried an immense burden of her own: the One-Eyed Black Dragon. Both of them sought strength, both of them sought to overcome the impossible.
Looking at Ais, Shirou saw himself reflected.
"Don't apologize just yet." His voice rose gently, pulling her out of her regret. "I haven't finished."
She looked back up at him, attentive.
"Even if I don't have a fixed style… my experience, my practice, and the knowledge I carry can still be useful."
He gave her a faint smile and extended his hand.
"So how about… instead of me being your master… we train together?"
"Train… together?"
"Exactly."
Ais stared at his hand for a moment. Then, without hesitation, she grabbed it firmly.
"Yes, brother!"
The determination in her voice was crystal clear. She wouldn't refuse any chance to grow stronger.
Shirou tightened his grip on her hand.
"Good. Then let's begin now. I still have to head to the forge later, but… until then, I'll dedicate myself entirely to you."
---
The two of them walked to the center of the courtyard. The cold stone floor, scarred by past training, seemed like the perfect stage for this new beginning.
Shirou took his position before her, drawing his training blade — a simple, but sturdy sword. Ais, in turn, held her short sword with natural ease, her feet firmly rooted to the ground.
"First, I want to see how you move," Shirou said, adjusting his stance. "Attack me without hesitation."
Ais needed no second command. She dashed forward swiftly, her blade slicing through the air in a diagonal strike.
Shirou intercepted it effortlessly, diverting the attack with minimal motion.
"Good speed. But you're still leaving an opening on your left shoulder."
She didn't answer, simply attacked again, faster this time. Each strike grew stronger, sharper, yet Shirou continued parrying with calm precision.
Soon, the courtyard rang with the metallic rhythm of clashing swords.
Ais's breathing quickened, but her eyes burned with unwavering focus.
"Excellent. Now, try to keep up with this!"
Shirou heightened his movements, shifting the tempo. His attacks came from unpredictable angles, fragments of countless styles woven together — broad slashes, swift thrusts, low strikes. It was like facing multiple masters at once.
Ais barely managed to keep pace, but she never backed down. Each mistake drove her to try harder. Each fall only made her rise stronger.
And seeing that determination, Shirou couldn't help but smile.
(As stubborn as I am…)
Their training went on as the sun bathed the courtyard in full light. Sweat dripped from both of them, but their spirits remained unshaken.
The first day of Shirou and Ais's joint training had begun.
---
From that day onward, Emiya Shirou's life became hectic once more.
If before his days were filled only with the forge and his own thoughts, now his routine had turned into a true marathon.
Every morning, before the sun had fully risen, Shirou was awakened by the sound of firm footsteps in the hallway. Without even looking, he already knew who it was.
Ais.
Punctual as a clock, she always awaited him in the courtyard, sword in hand and eyes fixed, as if each day were a decisive battle.
Their morning training began with the basics — posture, breathing, and movement. Shirou insisted on correcting every detail, not out of habit, but because he knew that even the smallest mistake could be fatal in real combat. Ais, relentless, refused to stop until she had mastered each movement.
After training, Shirou went to the forge. He hammered, shaped, and tempered metal until his arm ached, crafting weapons and gear not only for himself, but also for the adventurers of the Loki Familia. The heat of the flames, the ringing of iron, and the scent of coal became inseparable from his daily life.
At night, when he returned covered in soot and sweat, he thought of resting. But unsurprisingly, there was Ais again, waiting for him in the courtyard, ready for yet another round of training.
She was tireless.
---
As much as Ais put her all into training, Shirou noticed something curious. Despite her near superhuman dedication, her progress seemed slower than expected.
He, on the other hand, advanced by leaps and bounds.
The reason soon became clear: the Eye of the Mind.
With that special ability, Shirou didn't just predict movements, but absorbed combat patterns at an astonishing rate. Each clash was like an open book, every flaw in the opponent turning into immediate learning.
Of course, that didn't mean he mastered everything at once. But his progress was still remarkable.
This led to a rather common scene in recent weeks:
Shirou, focused at the forge, hammering glowing iron with steady rhythm, would suddenly hear light footsteps behind him. Turning, he would unsurprisingly find Ais standing at the doorway, sword in hand, staring at him with that unshakable expression.
"Shirou-nii, my thrust is still wrong. Show me again."
He would sigh, set down the hammer, wipe the sweat from his brow, and… there they went, repeating the movements in the cramped space of the forge.
---
But this shared progress had a peculiar side effect.
During this whole period, Loki had grown particularly resentful toward Shirou.
Without Ais to accompany her, to endure her teasing, or simply to stay by her side, the goddess wandered the Familia's hall muttering loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Hehehe, my Ais has been kidnapped."
At first, Shirou simply pretended not to hear. But when Loki began repeating it too close to his ear, with a mischievous grin, he felt a chill down his spine.
"This is going to be a problem…" he murmured to himself, trying to escape the goddess's suffocating presence.
Fortunately, there was one savior amid this torment.
"Shirou and Ais are working hard in training, so don't disturb them."
Riveria appeared like an unshakable wall between him and Loki, dragging the goddess away by the arm as she kicked and protested like a spoiled child.
"Riveriaaa! You're siding with him now?! Ais is miiine!"
With every step the elf took, Loki's voice grew more distant, until it disappeared completely down the corridor.
Relieved, Shirou let out a long sigh. Almost without realizing it, he whispered with genuine gratitude:
"Thank you so much, Riveria… you really saved my life."
The elf merely raised an eyebrow and walked off without replying, as if it were nothing worth mentioning.
Shirou, however, knew he had just been granted a brief respite in the middle of his relentless routine.
(End of this chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."