..
Heaven and earth came into being within four days—
a span that defies comprehension,
for creation is not merely a measure of time,
but the drawing of order out of nothingness.
The beginning of humanity is not simply Adam and Eve as flesh,
but the very abstraction of "beginning" itself—
the dawning of consciousness,
the first awareness of good and evil,
the recognition of self in the vast expanse of existence.
Then arises Gilgamesh,
the first echo of mankind's longing to transcend mortality.
He stands as the archetype of the hero—
and with him comes the birth of conflict,
the shadow of war,
the hunger that gnaws at life,
and ultimately the notion of an ending.
The beginning of the end.
---
"Emiyachi."
…
A voice called to him.
…
"Emiyachi!"
His eyes refused to open, yet his consciousness stirred at the sound. He forced what strength he had into the simple act of waking.
At last, his vision cleared.
Two girls stood before him.
He let his head rest for a moment, piecing the image together.
"Ah… you two. Good morning."
It had been two weeks since his sister had gone to U.A. Academy to live with their parents. Cu, on the other hand, had finally gotten his own place, gifted to him by the old woman he worked with.
With those two gone, only Shirou remained in this house.
"Seems like the prince has awakened from his slumber."
Yukinoshita, as always, wielded her sharp tongue like a blade.
For the past several days, she had been walking to school with him, ever since he first invited her to his home. Her once unyielding gaze had softened little by little, her barrage of questions dwindling to silence.
"It's already seven o'clock, Emiyachi. And why were you sleeping in the shed?"
So, he had fallen asleep there again. A familiar habit—memories of when Sakura used to wake him in this same place. A flicker of sadness touched his face at the thought. She had been a great kohai. But clinging to the past only deepened the weight in his chest.
"Well…" His eyes wandered to the countless swords around him: Rule Breaker, Balmung, Hrunting, and other lesser blades. They were nothing more than shadows—traced memories of weapons once hurled at him. He had tried, once, to recreate Lancer's Gáe Bolg. The attempt had failed miserably, as though a wall in his mind rejected the concept entirely.
Perhaps, he reasoned, it was because a spear was something altogether different than a sword.
"You a collector, Emiyachi?" Yuigahama asked, crouching down as if examining a shelf of antiques. Her eyes lingered on the scattered blades, wide with curiosity.
"W-Well… kinda. I've always been fond of swords," Shirou replied, scratching his cheek.
"You know," Yukinoshita interjected, her voice carrying that sharp edge as always, "this looks far too dangerous. Japanese law doesn't permit civilians to own such weapons. Even Pro Heroes don't have the right to keep something like this."
She wasn't wrong. A blade of that length—or anything resembling one—was illegal to own without proper licensing. At best, the authorities would confiscate them without consent. At worst, it meant prison time.
"It's… a licensed antique. Don't worry about it," Shirou said smoothly, lying without hesitation.
Yuigahama, oblivious to the weight of his words, reached out and wrapped her hands around Balmung's hilt. She gritted her teeth, trying to lift it.
"Erggggghhhhhh—!"
She pulled with all her strength, her arms trembling, but the blade didn't budge an inch. Finally, she let go, shoulders slumping.
"Ugh… why's it so heavy?!" Yuigahama groaned, shaking out her arms.
"It's a block of metal, Yuigahama-san. I don't understand why you're even trying to lift it," Yukinoshita replied coolly, as if the very attempt insulted common sense.
"Then help me, Yukino-san!"
Yukinoshita's eye twitched. Foolish determination like this should have been a myth, yet here it was embodied before her. Without a word, she gave a silent gesture of reluctant cooperation. Together, the two girls gripped the sword and tried to lift it.
And together, they failed.
"Mou! Why won't it budge?!" Yuigahama whined, puffing out her cheeks.
"It's exactly as I said. Our combined female strength isn't enough to move such a… block of metal," Yukinoshita muttered, though a trace of irritation slipped into her otherwise calm tone.
Shirou could only watch them, scratching his cheek with visible confusion. With a sigh, he finally stood and, without effort, lifted the sword from the ground.
"Here. You wanted to inspect it, right?" he said, holding it out casually.
"Woah, that easily?" Yuigahama's eyes widened as she leaned in close, circling the sword like it was some rare treasure on display. Her gaze sparkled as she shifted angles, as if the light itself might reveal some hidden truth.
"That's quite a strength, Emiya. You're really something, for someone who doesn't look like it."
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be a compliment, or are you mocking me?"
"Both, actually," she said with a grin.
Later, wearing his high school uniform, Shirou crouched to slip on his shoes. Standing back up, he grabbed his bag from the side and opened the door, where the girls were already waiting.
"Sorry for the wait," he said.
After arriving at school, Yukinoshita parted ways toward her own class, leaving Yuigahama and Emiya to walk the familiar path to 2-C together.
Emiya slid into his seat, Yuigahama trailing after him like a shadow trying to catch the sun.
"Hikki, did you watch the news last night?" she asked, voice bright as always.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned toward her, brows furrowing slightly.
"Yui, why do you keep changing the way you call me?"
It had been two weeks of this—Hikki one moment, Emiyachi the next, sometimes just Shirou when she slipped. It wasn't that he disliked it. What unsettled him was the quiet confusion it left behind, like echoes in a room that wasn't really his. The name Hikigaya still didn't sit right on his tongue, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
"Just call me Emiya. That's enough, isn't it?"
Her cheeks reddened as her fingers twisted nervously.
"Eh—but isn't that… weird?"
He tilted his head. "Weird how?" Yukinoshita had never stumbled over it, nor did he think twice when she used it.
"Well, she's built different from me! And people might misunderstand, you know?"
Misunderstand. The word lingered in the air, heavier than it should've been. Perhaps she was right—names carried weight, shaped perceptions. Yet to him, they were only reminders of identities that no longer lined up neatly.
He sighed, dropping his bag beside the desk.
"…Do what you like, I guess. Anyway, what about your question? I didn't watch the news last night. What happened?"
Yuigahama brightened again, though her fingers still fidgeted.
"They said there was a gas leak near our area. Scary, right?"
For most students, it was the kind of trivial fear that filled morning chatter. But for him—
A flicker of memory struck. The quiet, practiced tone of magi explaining away devastation. Gas leaks. Faulty wiring. Accidents. Always the same soothing lies meant to cover the smell of blood and curses.
he muttered under his breath. "That's one way to start the day."
Then the teacher arrived, the student began to stand up as yuigahama get back to her own sit.
--
The school bell rang, signified as the end of the school time for that particular day. Some of the students goes back to their home, one of the way of go home club. Though for two of them, is a way towards their club room.
Yuigahama aren't supposed to be in the club, though she eventually join in. There is whole week of her going to the club room not knowing she aren't a member.
As they arrived, Emiya's eyes lingered on the glass window of the clubroom door. Inside, Yukinoshita was already there, seated with her usual poise. How does she even manage to get here so early…? he wondered.
"Yukinoshita-san, we're coming in," he said.
"Go ahead," came her curt reply.
They entered. The so-called Ice Queen sat near the open window, a book resting in her hands as the morning breeze stirred strands of her hair.
"You two want tea?" Emiya asked, already making his way toward the water heater.
"That sounds nice," Yukinoshita answered without looking up.
"Of course!" Yuigahama chimed brightly.
A few minutes later, Emiya set the teapot down on the table. He carefully poured the tea into two cups, sliding them across to the girls.
"Thanks, Emiyachi," Yuigahama said, smiling.
"Thank you," Yukinoshita added more formally.
"You're welcome, you two."
He poured his own cup and sat down, blowing gently across the surface to cool it.
"Emiya, don't blow on the tea," Yukinoshita interjected, her eyes still fixed on the book. "Do you even realize what you're doing?"
"Eh? Really?" he tilted his head.
She set the book down with a soft thud. "When you exhale, you're releasing carbon dioxide, traces of water vapor, and various particles from your respiratory tract. In other words, you're contaminating your drink with the very byproduct your body is trying to expel. Hardly what I'd call hygienic."
"…I was just trying to cool it down," Shirou muttered.
"There are safer, less questionable methods. Waiting, for instance. Patience is hardly fatal."
Alright, she might be exaggerating a little, he thought.
But it was best to just follow along. He set the teacup back on the table and picked up his smartphone instead, deciding to wait for the drink to cool.
His screen lit up—flooded with content about heroes. News, videos, even games. Everything these days seemed saturated with the idea of heroes. Once, heroes had been figures of legend, of myth. Now, they had become so mundane that the word itself felt cheapened. In truth, "hero" was nothing more than fantasy.
"All Might."
The name surfaced again and again—the greatest of this generation. He'd even heard the man will teaching at his little sister's school. People praised him as the Symbol of Peace, their absolute ideal.
But to Shirou, it felt unreal. Fantastical. Someone chasing the title of hero could only see this world as a dream that had lost its substance.
"Sorry to intrude."
A voice pulled him from his thoughts. A student stepped into the room. For Yukinoshita and Yuigahama, he was an unfamiliar face. For Shirou, however, he was someone he recognized.
"Ah, it's the gloomy-looking guy!" Yuigahama blurted without restraint.
"Yuigahama," Yukinoshita scolded lightly, "you shouldn't say such things about someone you don't even socialize with."
"Sorry, she can be a bit mouthy at times," Shirou added quickly.
"No, that's fine," the boy replied.
It was Kazuhiko Nukumizu from his class—or rather, the boy he had once shared a quiet meal with in the cafeteria. He hadn't seen him around for a week.
"Emiya? You joined a club?"
"Well, as you can see, I did. Not that I planned on it, but it's… something. How about you? I haven't seen you in the cafeteria these past few days."
"That's actually the reason I came here."
The three of them listened as Kazuhiko explained his situation.
"She pays you with her lunch?" Shirou asked, his tone flat.
To him, it sounded less like kindness and more like she was taking advantage of him, venting her problems under the guise of a transaction.
"I'm amazed you even tolerate such behavior," Yukinoshita remarked. "If I were in your position, I'd call the police without a second thought."
"I'm amazed you'd think that far," Shirou interjected dryly.
"Thank you for the compliment."
What's with this girl? Shirou thought. Isn't she a little too cynical?
He turned back to Kazuhiko.
"Well, did you try saying something back to her?" Yuigahama suggested, tilting her head.
"I doubt she'd listen. She just… talks the way she wants. I really don't know what to say to her," Kazuhiko admitted.
Yukinoshita shifted her gaze to her tablet, scrolling through a list of names.
"Anna Yanami. That's her, correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
Her eyes flicked toward Shirou. "Class 2-C… that's your class, isn't it, Emiya? Do you know how she usually acts?"
The question caught him off guard. Truthfully, he barely spoke to anyone in class besides Yuigahama. Even with Kazuhiko, their conversations only happened outside of class.
"W-well, she's sometimes…" He struggled, digging through his blurred fragments of memory. "…annoying?"
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
"Hey! She's not that annoying!" Yuigahama cut in quickly. Since she shared the same class as Shirou and Nukumizu, she felt compelled to defend her classmate.
"Is she your friend?" Shirou asked. Now that he thought about it, Yuigahama seemed the type who could befriend just about anyone.
"W-well, we never really talked except when Karen was around… but she's still not that annoying!"
"Seems like you're showing bias, Yuigahama," Yukinoshita interjected smoothly.
"Eh? Bias?"
"It's the effect of personal experience. You focus only on what you've seen instead of the broader context. That lack of critical thinking makes your conclusion unreliable."
"Yukino, stop! I don't want to think that hard!" Yuigahama cried, clutching her head as though the words themselves were too heavy. "Anything complicated makes my brain explode!"
Shirou let out a small sigh."Yui, what she's trying to say is that just because you've interacted with her doesn't mean you truly understand her."
He shifted his gaze back toward Nukumizu."So, what exactly do you want us to do?"
"Well…" Nukumizu hesitated, his voice trailing off.
––To be continued.