What truly defines a family?
It's not bound by blood alone, but by the quiet threads that weave hearts together.
Sometimes, it's two souls. Sometimes, three. Sometimes, an entire circle drawn by fate.
They say family is written in our genes—but who's to say it can't be born between strangers,
meeting by chance, yet choosing to stay?
"So, Komachi—this is Cu. He's a friend of mine from overseas. Ireland, to be exact."
"Yo. Nice to meet you, kid," the man said, giving her a casual nod with his right hand lifted.
Komachi blinked.
Then blinked again.
Standing in front of her was a man in what looked suspiciously like old-school armor.
Her first instinct? Cosplayer.
Her second? Who the heck shows up in cosplay when visiting someone's house?
"Hi, weird onii-san," she replied without missing a beat.
He was definitely taller than her brother. Maybe older too.
But that wasn't what made her raise an eyebrow.
What really stood out was the fact that her brother—the guy who usually lived like a lone wolf—actually had a friend.
And not just any friend. A model-tier friend.
Yui-onee-chan didn't count. Komachi had long since decided she was more in the "potential girlfriend" category than just a friend. At least… she hoped so.
"Huh, I never thought you actually had a sister, Emiya," Lancer remarked, glancing from Shirou to Komachi. "She's got a sharp tongue too. I like her."
Shirou had already told him to just call him Emiya. It felt more natural—and honestly, being called "kid" in public invited too many awkward questions.
"Well, now you know," Shirou said, shifting his attention to Komachi. "Lancer's going to be staying with us for a while."
"Eh? He is?"
"Yeah. He doesn't have a place to stay after arriving in Japan, so I offered him a room here. Is that alright?"
"Eh?"
Komachi looked between the two of them, caught off guard by the sudden announcement.
She didn't know the guy. But she also didn't get any creepy vibes from him either.
And that face… yeah, hard to say no to a face like that.
"I guess it's okay," she said slowly.
Though for some reason, something about him felt... off.
Not in a way she could explain—just a quiet prickle
at the back of her mind that refused to settle.
"All right, guess that seals it," said her brother—Hikigaya Emiya—clapping his hands once with finality.
"Well then, Cu—welcome to the family!"
"Emiya, don't say it like that. It sounds weird," Lancer replied, frowning slightly.
"I don't think it sounds weird," Emiya said with a small laugh, clearly unbothered.
Komachi, now warming up to the conversation, chimed in with a grin.
"Welcome, I guess, weird onii-san. I hope we get to know each other before I head off to U.A. Academy."
"Academy? Like a school?"
"Yeah. Hero school, basically," Emiya explained, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's the government's way of training teenagers with Quirks to become professional heroes."
"Yup! It's basically a ticket to making serious money once I graduate and become a pro hero!" Komachi added proudly, puffing out her chest with energetic confidence.
"You don't go there too?" Lancer asked, turning to Shirou.
"Ah, onii-chan doesn't have a Quirk," Komachi replied cheerfully. "That's why he didn't try applying."
Lancer raised an eyebrow at Shirou. "Doesn't have a Quirk, huh? But he's actually quite—"
"Aha, yeah, I don't have one," Shirou quickly cut in, laughing a bit too forcefully as he locked eyes with Lancer. His expression was calm, but the blink he gave was obvious—a silent don't say anything.
Lancer stared at him for a second longer before catching the hint.
"Ahahaha, right! You did tell me that. How could I forget?" he said, laughing awkwardly and scratching the back of his head.
...
...
....
"Well, this is your room, Lancer. I hope it's good enough."
The room wasn't too big or too small. A single bed, a window, and a small desk stood inside.
Lancer stepped in and gave it a once-over before grinning.
"I'd say this is a hell of a lot more comfortable than that bastard priest's church."
(Kirei?) Shirou taught, he personally do not have hatred on to him, but he do has some weird feeling around the guy the last time he sees him in church. but there is quite a wonder why lancer hate his master.
"Well, that's good, I guess."
"Hey, Emiya."
"Yeah?"
"Can I have some money?"
Shirou looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"
"Just 1,000 yen."
"Let me see..." Shirou reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. The leather was slightly worn at the edges, clearly used often. Inside, he had ten crisp 10,000-yen notes and three smaller 1,000-yen bills. He took a quick glance, then pulled one out.
"Here."
"Thanks, kid," Lancer said with a grin, pocketing the bill as he casually began walking past him toward the front door.
"...Wait," Shirou called out, causing Lancer to stop and glance over his shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"What exactly do you want to buy?"
"Some alcoholic beverages," Lancer said, tone as casual as the night breeze drifting through the hallway.
Shirou stared at him. "It's almost midnight."
"Exactly," Lancer replied, smirking. "The perfect hour for a drink."
"...You're not planning to stumble back home drunk, are you?"
"No promises," he said with a shrug, then added with a laugh.
"The only store that's probably still open is 7-Eleven. Do you know where it is?"
"Of course," Lancer replied without hesitation. "Us Servants are familiar with the modern world—even without the Grail's influence. After all, the Grail isn't a requirement for us to understand this era."
There's a common misconception—one even many magi still fall for.
The Holy Grail doesn't just hand over every scrap of modern knowledge the moment a Servant descends into this world.
No.
The Grail merely provides information relevant to the Holy Grail War: names, systems, combat rules, and the knowledge necessary to function in battle.
As for their understanding of modern ethics, customs, or even things like how to use a phone or navigate a city?
That comes from somewhere else entirely.
It comes from the Throne of Heroes itself—from the Root.
A Servant summoned into the present doesn't learn about the world.
They remember it—as if they've always known it, as if it was etched into their spirit the moment they were recorded into the throne.
A paradox.
But one that ensures they can walk the modern world, not just fight within it.
"Alright, see you in the morning—"
"Wait." Shirou raised a hand, stopping the Hero in his tracks. "Here. Wear this."
With a flicker of shimmering air, a shirt materialized in Shirou's hand—traced out of nothing, forged with practiced ease.
It wasn't anything flashy. Just a plain black T-shirt. Simple. Clean. Unassuming.
Lancer looked at it, then at Shirou. "...Why?"
"Because you probably don't want some pro hero chasing after you for walking around the neighborhood in armor at night," Shirou said dryly.
Lancer blinked, then glanced down at himself. He was still wearing his full battle gear—metal greaves, sleeveless tunic, the whole look.
"...Right. Good point," he muttered, taking the shirt and slipping it on over his armor.
It didn't really hide the gauntlets or boots, but at least it gave the illusion of some effort.
Shirou exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just… try not to get arrested."
"Again, No promises" Lancer said with a grin as he stepped out into the night.
--