Chapter 3: Burden and Preamble
The rain had stopped, leaving a world washed in shades of lead and damp ash
In the hospital room, Kiritsugu Emiya sat motionless in the chair beside the bed, his eyes fixed on the child who slept a restless sleep, the product of mental exhaustion. The man's hands, which hours before had trembled as he held that tiny body, now rested still on his knees. But inside, the machinery of his mind— honed by decades of calculation and paranoia— worked at full speed, reevaluating every certainty he thought he possessed.
The rescue had not been an act of heroism. It had been the culmination of a monumental failure.
The first few minutes after finding the boy in the rubble still echoed in his senses with the clarity of a recurring nightmare. The insignificant weight of the body in his arms, an obscene contrast to the crushing weight of guilt. Every step he took away from that hell didn't lead him to safety, but deeper into the heart of his own disaster.
'Only one', he had whispered then, and the word "one" It tasted like bile. It was the perfect antonym of "everyone". It was the statistical, bleeding, and breathable proof that their philosophy— sacrifice the few to save the many— it had turned inside out. This time, the "few" had all been, and the "many" was this single white-haired boy, prematurely aged, with a lost look
In the rush to the hospital, with the unconscious child in his arms, Kiritsugu hadn't projected a future. He had only performed a clinical inventory: weak but stable pulse, severe burns, but no critical inhalation patterns that foreshadowed imminent death. He was a damaged object who, against all odds— and, he knew it, Thanks to Avalon, the sacred sheath of Excalibur, which he himself had placed inside the child— never quite broke. He felt no joy. Only the tension of a steel wire, the fine line between absolute collapse and a sudden, inescapable obligation.
The days spent vigil at the hospital were an exercise in pure restraint. He observed the treatments, the graphs on the monitors, the miraculous—and therefore, deeply suspicious to any trained eye— regeneration of the child's tissues
But one detail in particular set off all of "Magus's" alarm bells: the gradual change of Shirou's hair to that graying white as he recovered. For a practitioner of witchcraft, hair was not just a collection of hair fibers; it was a secondary organ for storing and channeling magical energy. Many magi avoided any drastic alteration to it. And now, if he sharpened his senses, he could perceive faint magical pulses, erratic but undeniable, emanating from that whiteness.
The cursed fire of the corrupted Grail had done something to him. And his recent fit of hysteria confirmed it.
'Shirou has the potential to become a magical conduit... a budding magus'
He denied it, almost imperceptibly, to his own thoughts. He would never throw a child who had lost everything— and because of that same hidden world— into the jaws of the "Moonlit World". It wasn't like those obsessive psychopaths of the "Clock Tower". Although, deep down, he knew it was worse: they experimented out of greed; he had massacred for an ideal
And then there were the "visions".The fragments of the future that Shirou had vomited up in his panic attack
Kiritsugu's mind, the mind of "Magus Killer", he went over each word with forensic precision:
'Seven Masters… seven Servants… a blonde girl in armor… you arguing with her… twin wars…'
They weren't delusions. They were technical terms. The exact outline of the Holy Grail War. The mention of theblonde girl in armor —Artoria? Was it possible?"— and the specific details of his arguments with her during the Fourth War, information no outsider could possibly know. It was as if someone had injected the boy's mind with the classified files of the conflict, but jumbled up and mixed with scenes from a possible future.
'Clairvoyance?' Not the common kind, a mere vague premonition. This smelled of something deeper, more archaic. An echo of the abilities attributed to the "Magician" of the "Age of the Gods", even in its weakest and most distorted form. The thought made his eyes, for an instant, sharpen like blades, and a murderous intent— cold, practical— stirred in his mind. It was the instinct of a predator facing a dangerous anomaly
'If those nobles of the Clock Tower were to suspect even this… they wouldn't be satisfied with a mere observation. They would issue a Sealing Designation Immediately. They would treat it like an artifact, a phenomenon to be dissected on an operating table until its last secret was extracted'
He clenched his fists with a contained rage that burned in his gut.
'No. I can't allow it.'
The determination to protect Shirou— this specific victim, this survivor of his mistake— solidified in his chest like a block of steel. It was the only possible compensation for his misguided ambitions to use the Grail to save the world.
'And look how it turned out' A sneer of self-loathing twisted her lips. She looked at her palms, imagining them soaked in a red that would never wash out 'My desire exploded in my face. The corrupted grail cursed me with a slow death. But the real punishment isn't that… it's all this innocent blood on my hands'
'I have become what I swore to destroy. A monster, just like my father. A genocidal maniac.'
Kiritsugu's face twisted into a fleeting grimace of frustration and self- loathing. His training as an assassin— the armor of cold calm that had kept him alive— suppressed the expression in less than a second, restoring the impassive mask
He closed her eyes tightly. The control was almost perfect. Almost. A single, treacherous tear managed to escape and trace a warm path down her cheek, carrying with it the smoke and ash of her soul.
'I'm sorry…' The thought was a ragged echo inside him, directed at the ghosts that always haunted him 'I'm sorry, teacher. Maiya. Irisviel. Illya… Shirou'
'I'm so sorry'
The room remained silent, broken only by the boy's ragged breathing. Kiritsugu opened his eyes, now dry. No trace of the storm remained in them. Only the cold, familiar determination of one who has drawn a line. Shirou was no longer just a rescued child. He was a secret to keep, a promise of budding potential, and a vivid reminder of a failure that, for once, couldn't be solved with a bullet. He was his burden. His penance. And no one, neither the magical world nor his own demons, was going to take him away.
* * *
The events that followed his waking from his nap unfolded before Shirou like a play seen through a frosted glass. Everything happened with a distant clarity, as if he were a spectator trapped in his own body. While Kiritsugu spoke with social workers and signed papers, Shirou's mind didn't process words, but Automatic comparisons. Every gesture of the man, every piece of furniture in the hospital, every tone of voice was instantly and involuntarily compared with the scattered, bloody fragments of his visions. It was a state of permanent stupor, where the present and the possible future blended into a disorienting fog
The adoption was a surreal process. When they asked him, with soft voices and pitying faces, if he accepted Kiritsugu Emiya as his adoptive father, Shirou could only stare at them with glassy eyes. The answer came from his lips before he could even think of it, laden with a certainty he didn't understand:
— Isn't it obvious?— he said, his own voice sounding foreign to him— I am Shirou Emiya.
It was a statement, not a choice. A capitulation to a destiny that his visions had already revealed to him, and that his exhausted mind no longer had the strength to reject.
The drive to what would be his new home was silent. Shirou gazed out the car window at the Fuyuki landscape, a city that felt both familiar and utterly strange. He recognized corners, he could make out the road, but he couldn't connect that knowledge to any personal memories. It was as if someone had downloaded a map into his head, but then erased all the anecdotes from the journey.
And then, they arrived at the Emiya Village.
Kiritsugu, with his usual taciturnity, showed him his bedroom— a simple room with light-colored walls, which Shirou knew, with a shiver, would eventually be filled with tools and the smell of oil and metal— But it was Shirou, with a quiet insistence that arose from that same mental fog, who asked to see the rest. He needed confirmation. He needed reality to catch up with the prophecy, for better or for worse.
What followed was a slow and oppressive journey through a scene that his mind had already inhabited in feverish dreams.
The Courtyard: A square of earth and gravel, surrounded by the wooden wall of the engawa. There, in his visions, under a blazing sun or a moon of despair, a red-haired Shirou practiced fencing against a blonde girl, again and again, chasing the ghost of an ideal. Now it was only empty, silent, waiting
The Kitchen: Spacious, functional. The extractor hood, the stove, the long wooden counter. Shirou knew— without knowing how— that here, he would spend his best and more relaxing moments of the day, trying to make the residents of the village happy with their seasoning.
The Dining Room: A low, light-wood table with zabuton cushions around it. In his mind, the image of three girls who recurred in his visions— one with purple hair and a shy demeanor, another with black hair in pigtails and a haughty attitude, and the last a blonde with a monstrous appetite— dining in a not uncomfortable silence. Now, the room resonated with an emptiness that seemed physical
Kiritsugu's Studio/Workshop: A door that remained closed. Kiritsugu didn't open it, but Shirou sensed what lay on the other side: the smell of gunpowder, residual magic, and old paper. A phantom's headquarters. The place where the Kiritsugu of his visions coldly plotted the deaths of mages, and where later, a cynical, adult Shirou would maintain his own arsenal of deception.
The Back Garden: Small, a little neglected. A cherry tree that should bloom in spring. Shirou saw, superimposed on reality, the image of a sword stuck in that earth, waiting for a king who would never return. A symbol of broken pacts and eternal loyalties
The Main Entrance (Genkan): The place of arrivals and final farewells. Here, on the threshold between the world and home, a girl in medieval armor would appear one night, changing everything. Here, friendships and deeper relationships were received and bid farewell for the first and last time.
The Hallway: Long, with doors on both sides. The setting for whispered conversations late at night, for exchanged worried glances, for the sound of footsteps— those of a lively young woman with a red ribbon— walking with purpose and her heart set only on her senpai
The Living Room (with the Kotatsu): Where, in winter, the warmth under the table would draw the house's inhabitants. Where a carefree substitute teacher would fall asleep surrounded by school papers, and where life-or-death decisions would be made.
The Bath (Ofuro): A place of stillness and, in his visions, of confrontation. Where the hot water would soothe aching muscles after impossible battles, and where, before the fogged mirror, a reflection with steely eyes would ask him, again and again, if the chosen path was worth it
With each room, the fog in Shirou's mind didn't dissipate; it grew denser, but in a different way. It was no longer the confusion of the unknown, but the bewilderment of premature recognition. Every corner confirmed his visions, anchoring him to a future not entirely deciphered, but which, even so, seemed set in stone. He felt neither fear, nor joy, nor sadness. He felt a profound and A paralyzing existential numbness. She was following a script she had already read, playing a role she hadn't rehearsed for, in a house that was both a home and the stage set for her own impending tragedy.
At the end of the path, he stopped in the center of the corridor, looking at Kiritsugu. The man was watching him with those dark, all-seeing eyes. Shirou had no questions. He had already seen the answers, and they were as incomprehensible as the fog itself. He simply nodded, once, and the silence between them was filled with the weight of everything they both knew, and everything Shirou, caught between the present and the future, could not yet understand.
* * *
Glossary of terms for the chapter (and the previous because I
forgot XD)
"Sacrificing a few to save many": This is Kiritsugu's "realistic hero" philosophy, which he developed due to the influence of his teacher and because he himself had lost faith in the classic hero who seeks to "save everyone," dismissing it as unrealistic, stupid, and childish.
"Magus": This is the term used to refer to practitioners of sorcery or thaumaturgy in the modern era. Not to be confused with "Magician"
"Magus Killer": This is the title given to Kiritsugu by the magical society. He earned it thanks to his infamy as a renowned magus hunter. Many times in canon, mages portray the "Magus Killer" as an extremely dangerous madman specializing in killing their own kind, someone from whom it was almost impossible to escape alive, and, if you did, it was at the cost of losing your ability to practice sorcery due to his special methods of assassination, the "origin bullets"
"Moonlit World": It's the way mages refer to the hidden part of the world dominated by magical society, which generally carries out its activities at night, hence the name "Moonlit World." It's kind of like in Harry Potter, but darker... Bro, those guys are crazy, they're even capable of wiping out entire villages just to keep the "Moonlit World" a secret.
"Clock Tower": It's the headquarters for much of the wizarding community.
It's located in England, in the British Museum, more specifically in a secret underground entrance within the museum itself. So yes, the "clock tower" and all its surrounding facilities are underground. Fun fact: The clock tower is He built it in that specific spot because it's directly above the corpse of a super-powerful dragon named Albion.
"Clairvoyance": It is a kind of magical gift/ability that grants the power to see the past/present/future, primarily through the eyes. Although there are also some versions with the same name, such as Archer Emiya's, which grants telescopic and/or microscopic vision. You will usually see clairvoyance listed as a Servant ability, whether in the anime, visual novels, or the Fate wiki
"Magician": NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH "MAGUS OR MAGI"; it is the term used to refer to those extraordinary individuals who have transcended the limits of witchcraft and reached the "root." "Magicians" are usually defined as people capable of breaking with scientific logic and performing feats comparable to those of the gods. Fun fact: The "magic" performed by magicians was much more common during the age of the gods, but, as mystery receded from the world, the number of these magics, as well as the number of magicians who wielded them, gradually decreased to the point that only 5 "true" magics remain today. (If you don't know what witchcraft, the root, or the 5 true magics are, go to the wiki because I'm not going to explain it in this chapter, perhaps in another where it's explained during a dialogue) (If you ever see "Wizard" instead of "Magician", or "Sorcery" instead of "Witchcraft", it's a translation error I didn't notice; I would appreciate it if you let me know)
"The Age of the Gods": This is the era before the death of King Arthur (Great Britain, during his reign, is known as the last vestige of the Age of the Gods. When Camelot fell, the Age of the Gods also perished). In this era, a superior form of magical energy existed in the atmosphere (Ether). The Age of the Gods is also so named because of the presence and active intervention of the gods in humanity (Yes, that includes the biblical god… I'm looking at you, Jeanne…)
"Sealing designation": It's basically flowery terminology used to categorize test subjects who possess some extraordinary physical characteristic or rare magical ability. All to "put them on the operating table" and dissect them in order to extract all their secrets... damned greedy magi...
"Avalon": It's the scabbard of Excalibur (if you don't know what this has to do with Shirou's situation, then don't look it up, because I consider it a spoiler for this story, as well as for the anime Fate/stay night. But if you don't mind this, you can look it up on the Fate wiki)
"Excalibur": It is the sword used by King Arthur in Arthurian legend. It is also among the most powerful Noble Phantasms in the entire Nasuverse, as it is a weapon created in the planet's core to fight against threats external to the planet (yes, freaking aliens XD)
"Masters": This is the term used to refer to the humans (or non-humans) who command one or more Servants
"Servants": They are basically the weakened version of "heroic spirits", generally used in the Holy Grail Wars (Heroic spirits are, in short, heroes of the past summoned to fight in the service of humanity, although sometimes they are not only heroes but also villains or literal monsters XD)
"Holy Grail": It is a magical device created jointly by the magus families: Makiri, Tohsaka, and Einzberg. Its purpose is to serve as a method to access the Root and obtain the 3rd true magic (Heaven's Feel). However, due to the absurd amount of magical energy it absorbs before being usable, it can also be used as a wish-granting device (like the genie in Aladdin's lamp, or Shenron from Dragon Ball).
"Holy Grail War": It is a magical ritual used to activate the grail (when it is fully charged with magical energy), in which 7 Masters, each with a Servant by their side, fight each other in a battle to the death (strictly during the night) and the last one standing gets the prize, the holy grail
"Angra Mainyu": Evil god of Zoroastrianism (I don't have much more information and he's not very relevant to the story other than being that weird guy who corrupted the Grail)
"All The World's Evils": The title given to Angra Mainyu within the Nasuverse (Fate series). It has a very interesting and tragic backstory; you can look it up on the wiki if you'd like.
"Frugality": Economic and prudent moderation in the use of things. moderation, restraint, sobriety, circumspection, temperance, frugality, parsimony, continence, thrift, economy.
"Engawa": In Japanese, engawa is a word that could be translated as "intermediate space." For architects, it is the place that connects a house with nature
"Zabuton": It is a Japanese sitting cushion. The zabuton is generally used when sitting on the floor and can also be used when sitting in a chair
Kotatsu": It is a traditional piece of furniture that adorns almost every home Japanese. It is a table approximately 36 cm high (Screw American measures, what's with feet and miles? WTF XD. I'm just kidding), usually made of wood, covered with a futon and equipped with a heating element