Chapter 25: I Can Be Petty and Vindictive Too, You Know?
The noon bell echoed through the halls of Homurahara Academy like a liberator announcing the end of morning slavery. Shirou Emiya, with his casted arm resting uncomfortably on the desk, sighed with relief as he gathered his things. It had been a strange day. Not because of the classes—those were as tedious as ever—but because of the constant awareness that somewhere in that building, Sakura Matou was living her own routine, and that at the end of the day, for the first time, he was going to "hang out" with a girl. Truth be told, he was a little nervous.
They hadn't planned anything. Simply, upon leaving the classroom that morning, after their encounter in the music room, Shirou had said, almost without thinking:
— Would you like to, after classes… I don't know, take a walk? If you don't have plans, of course.
And Sakura, with that expression of hers so hard to read, had nodded with an almost imperceptible movement of her head.
— I'd like that, senpai.
Senpai. The word resonated in his mind now, as he put his books in his backpack. It wasn't the first time someone had called him that, but on her lips it sounded different. More… intimate. As if it carried an implicit meaning he still couldn't fully grasp.
— Emiya-kun!
The cheerful voice of a classmate snapped him out of his reverie. A girl in his year, name unknown and smile easy, approached with a notebook in hand.
— Hey, hey, can you explain the math problem to me? The one on page forty-two. I don't understand a thing, and the teacher said he'd ask tomorrow.
Shirou looked at the notebook, then at the problem, and nodded with that automatic readiness everyone knew him for.
— Sure, let me see.
For the next ten minutes, he patiently explained the procedure, pointing with his good arm at the steps on the paper while the girl nodded with an expression of progressive understanding. When he finished, she smiled at him gratefully.
— You're a dear, Emiya-kun! Anyone would think you're in higher grades, the way you explain things. Thanks!
And she left, leaving Shirou with a small smile of satisfaction. It wasn't that he liked helping for the recognition. It was that he liked helping, period. Seeing people understand something thanks to him gave him a warm feeling in his chest.
— Senpai.
The voice, soft and barely audible, came from the classroom door. Shirou looked up, and there was Sakura, in her immaculate uniform, her purple hair falling softly over her shoulders. She had her hands clasped in front of her, as always, and in her purple eyes was a mix of shyness and something Shirou couldn't identify.
— Ah, Sakura. Are you done already?
She nodded.— Morning classes, yes. Afternoon ones… don't matter.
Shirou understood the message. She was willing to skip whatever it took to spend time with him. The thought gave him a strange sensation, half flattery, half responsibility.
— So, shall we go?— he asked, picking up his backpack with his good arm.— I know a place near here that makes incredible cream buns. Well, that's what Taiga says. I've never been, but…
— Taiga?
— My older sister. Well, not by blood, but… it's complicated. I'll introduce you someday. She's a bit… intense.
Sakura nodded, and for a moment, a small curve appeared on her lips. Was that a smile? Shirou wasn't sure, but he decided to count it as a victory.
* * *
They walked through the streets of Shinto, away from the academy. The afternoon sun was warm enough to make the walk pleasant, and the light breeze moved Sakura's hair with a delicacy Shirou found hypnotic.
— Senpai,— she said suddenly.— The girl who asked you for help… do you always help everyone who asks?
Shirou shrugged.— Almost always. If it's within my power, I don't see why not.
— And doesn't it bother you? That they only approach you for that?
The question was innocent, but Shirou felt there was something more behind it. A personal experience, perhaps. People who only approached her out of self-interest.
— Sometimes a little,— he admitted.— But I prefer that to people not approaching at all. Besides, helping makes me feel… useful. Like I'm good for something.
Sakura looked at him with an intensity that disconcerted him.
— Do you think you're only valuable if you help?
Shirou opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. It was a good question. One he had never asked himself.
— I don't know,— he replied finally, honestly.— I guess that's what I was taught. That helping others is the right thing to do. That if you can do something for someone, you should.
— Who taught you that?
— My father. Kiritsugu.
The name of the Magus Killer came out of his lips naturally, without thinking of the implications. Sakura didn't react, but Shirou suddenly remembered the visions. She didn't know who his father really was. She knew almost nothing of the magical world. To her, Kiritsugu Emiya was just another name.
— It must be nice,— Sakura murmured.— To have someone who teaches you things like that.
Shirou felt a pang in his chest. He remembered the vision of Sakura being given away by her father, the expression of abandonment in her childhood eyes.
— Don't you?— he asked carefully.
She shook her head, an almost imperceptible gesture.— My family is… complicated.
Shirou didn't want to push. Instead, he pointed to a small establishment on the corner.
— Look, there it is! The bakery Taiga was talking about. Shall we go in?
* * *
The place was small and cozy, smelling of freshly baked dough and powdered sugar floating in the air. An elderly woman attended the counter with a kind smile.
— Welcome, young ones! What can I get you?
Shirou ordered two cream buns and two barley teas, and they found a table by the window from which they could see the street. Sakura eyed the bun with a certain distrust, as if afraid it might bite her first.
— You've never had one?— Shirou asked.
— At the mansion… we don't usually eat things like that. Shinji says it's poor people's food.
Shirou felt a pang of irritation at hearing that name. Shinji. The adoptive brother. The one who appeared in the visions doing things that made his blood boil.
— Well, then Shinji doesn't know what he's missing,— he said, tearing his bun in half and offering a piece to Sakura.— Try it. It's my gift from… from a new friend.
She looked at him, hesitated for a moment, and then accepted the piece. She took a small, almost fearful bite, and her eyes widened slightly.
— It's… sweet,— she said, as if it were a discovery.
Shirou smiled.— That's what cream buns are. Sweet.
She nodded slowly, and then, with a shyness that broke his heart, took another bite. And another. Soon, the piece had disappeared, and she looked at the rest of the bun with a mix of desire and guilt.
— Want more?— Shirou offered, sliding his half toward her.
— But it's yours…
— I can buy another. Really, eat.
Sakura looked at him, and in her purple eyes appeared something Shirou hadn't seen before: a small spark of gratitude so pure, so vulnerable, that he felt he could cry.
— Thank you, senpai.
* * *
— Shirouuuu!
Taiga Fujimura's unmistakable voice pierced the street like a rocket. Shirou sighed, resigned, as he watched his adoptive sister approach with long strides, her bag swinging and her hair disheveled from running.
— I've been looking everywhere for you!— Taiga exclaimed, bursting into the bakery like a force of nature.— How's your arm? Does it hurt? Have you taken your medicine? Do you need help with anything? Want me to take you home?
— Taiga-nee, calm down,— Shirou raised his hand in a gesture of surrender.— I'm fine. My arm's fine. It doesn't hurt. I took my medicine. I don't need help. And I'm with a friend.
Taiga stopped dead. Her eyes landed on Sakura, who was watching her with that expression of silent alert she adopted around strangers.
— Friend?— Taiga repeated, and her tone instantly shifted from maternal to curiously interested.— A friend! Shirou has a friend! And what's your name, cutie?
— Sakura… Sakura Matou,— she replied, in a quiet voice.
— Matou!— Taiga clapped.— What an elegant surname! Are you from that big family on the hill? I've heard they have a beautiful mansion!— Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Shirou.— And why didn't you tell me you had such a cute friend? You have to introduce them to me!
— Taiga, please…
— No, no, it's fine,— Taiga raised her hands.— I'm not going to interrupt your date. I just wanted to make sure my little brother wasn't dying in a ditch. But I see he's in good hands!— She winked exaggeratedly.— Well, I'm off. Take care of him, Sakura-chan! And if he does anything to you, tell me, I'll handle it!
And she left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving behind a trail of cheap perfume and overwhelming energy.
Shirou sighed, rubbing his temple with his good arm.
— I'm sorry. That's how she is. No filter.
Sakura, however, had an expression Shirou hadn't expected. Her eyes, usually veiled by sadness, sparkled with something akin to curiosity, and on her lips was a small upward curve.
— She's… fun,— she said.
— Fun? She's an earthquake on legs.
— But she worries about you. You can tell.— Sakura's gaze drifted for a moment.— It must be nice to have someone like that.
Shirou felt that same pang as before. The longing in her voice was impossible to ignore.
— Yes,— he said softly.— It is. And… if you want, someday she could be your big sister too. I assure you she'll never leave you alone.
Sakura looked at him, and for an instant, her eyes seemed less empty. Less broken.
— I'd like that,— she whispered.
* * *
After the bakery, they walked aimlessly. Shirou discovered that Sakura didn't know the city well; her movements were restricted, her outings limited. So, almost without realizing it, he became her personal tour guide.
— Over here is the central park. On weekends there's a craft fair. And further on, the Mion River. At night, the lights reflect on the water and it's very pretty.
Sakura absorbed every word as if it were a treasure. Shirou noticed how her eyes lit up slightly with each new place he mentioned, as if she were collecting mental images to treasure.
— Senpai?— she said at one point.— What's your favorite color?
Shirou blinked, surprised by such a… normal question.
— White,— he said, almost instantly.
— White?
— Yeah. Well…— The words got caught in his throat, his expression flushing slightly.— I guess I have a thing for the color white. Like my hair. What about yours?
Sakura took a moment to answer.
— Purple,— she said finally.— Like… like my hair.
Shirou smiled.— Makes sense.
— It makes sense?
— That you like your hair color. It's pretty. Besides, it's something we have in common, hahaha.
She looked down, and Shirou saw her cheeks tint slightly pink. Small steps. Small achievements.
— And your favorite food?— she asked, encouraged.
— Curry. The one Taiga makes on Sundays. It's not especially good, but… it's tradition.
— And your least favorite?
— Bell peppers. I hate them. Taiga always tries to make me eat them, but I hide them in my napkin when she's not looking.
Sakura let out a small sound. It took Shirou a second to realize it was a laugh. A genuine laugh, though brief and contained.
— Are you laughing at me?— he asked, with a smile.
— I'm sorry,— she said, but she didn't sound sorry.— It's just… it's so… normal.
— Normal?
— Yes. Talking about things like this. Favorite foods, colors. I've never… I've never talked about this with anyone.
Shirou felt his heart tighten. "Never". What a huge word for such a young girl.
— Well, we'll talk about lots of normal things,— he promised.— As many as you want.
* * *
As they walked, an elderly man with a shopping cart approached them. He had a face furrowed with wrinkles and an expression of slight disorientation.
— Excuse me, young man,— he said, addressing Shirou.— Do you know where Sakura Street is? I'm lost and can't find my way home.
Shirou stopped, assessing the man. His clothes were modest but clean, and his gaze showed a slight confusion, the kind that comes with age when it starts to weigh.
— Sure,— he replied with a smile.— Look, we're here.— He pointed to an imaginary spot in the air.— Sakura Street is about three blocks south. Would you like me to walk you there?
— Could you?— The old man's eyes lit up with relief.— I wouldn't want to bother you, but lately I have trouble finding my way…
— It's no bother. Let's go.
Shirou shot a quick glance at Sakura, asking without words. She nodded, and together they accompanied the elderly man to the indicated street. Along the way, Shirou made light conversation with the man, asking about his family, how long he had lived in the neighborhood. When they reached his destination, the old man thanked them repeatedly.
— God bless you, young ones,— he said, before disappearing into a small apartment building.
— You always help everyone,— Sakura observed when they were alone.
Shirou shrugged.— He was lost. I couldn't just leave him like that.
— But you lost time with me.
— I didn't lose anything,— Shirou corrected her.— I gained another walk with you. And the satisfaction of helping someone. No loss there.
Sakura looked at him for a long time, as if trying to decipher a riddle.
* * *
Shortly after, a boy of about ten ran up to them. He carried a kite in his hand, clearly broken.
— Hey, hey!— he called, addressing Shirou.— Can you fix things? My sister says grown-ups know everything.
Shirou crouched down to examine the kite. The bamboo rod was snapped in half, and the paper torn in several places.
— I'm no expert,— he said.— but I can try. Do you have scissors?
The boy shook his head.
— Well, then we'll have to improvise.— Shirou rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a small roll of duct tape he always carried just in case.— This'll do.
Over the next few minutes, with the help of his good arm and the occasional assistance from Sakura—whom he asked to hold the parts while he joined them—Shirou managed to repair the kite enough for the boy to fly it again.
— Thanks, mister!— the little one shouted, and ran off toward the park.
Sakura watched Shirou with a complex expression.
— Do you always carry duct tape?
— Always. You never know when you'll need to fix something.
— And do you always help strange children?
— They're children. They need help more than anyone.
She was silent, but Shirou noticed that her hands, always clasped, had relaxed a little.
* * *
The next person to approach was a young woman of refined appearance, in the academy uniform but from a higher grade. Shirou vaguely recognized her: she was a third-year senpai, the kind always surrounded by a retinue of admirers.
— Emiya-kun, right?— she said, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.— How nice to run into you. I need help with a math problem. I've heard you're a genius at that.
Shirou looked at her. He suddenly remembered a conversation overheard by chance in the hallways a few days ago. This same girl, surrounded by her friends, talking about Taiga Fujimura.
"That captain of the kendo club? Please, she's a total tomboy. And she dresses so vulgarly without the uniform… it's like she doesn't have a mirror at home."
The complicit laughter of her friends. The contempt in her tone.
— I'm sorry, senpai,— Shirou said, his smile, though not as warm as with the previous ones, still present. However, in his eyes was poorly concealed contempt and… rage.— Right now I'm busy. Maybe another day.
The girl frowned, clearly surprised. She wasn't used to being told no.
— Busy? With her?— Her eyes landed on Sakura with a flash of disdain.— Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.
She walked away with a poorly concealed gesture of annoyance. Shirou watched her go, his body tense, as if he wanted to pounce on her the next second and beat her to a pulp.
— Senpai…— Sakura looked at him with a mix of confusion and something that could be surprise.— You helped the old man. You helped the child. Why not her?
Shirou sighed, releasing with some effort the negative emotions accumulated within himself.
— Because I don't want to.
— But… you always help everyone. That's what they say.
— That's what they say?
Sakura nodded.— At the academy. Everyone says Emiya-kun is incredibly kind. That he never says no.
— Well, today I said no,— Shirou pointed out, with a half-smile.— And I don't regret it.
— Why?— she insisted.— What did she do?
Shirou looked at her. In her purple eyes was genuine curiosity, but also something else. Something that seemed to say "Show me how it's done. Show me how to say no."
— She talks badly about Taiga-nee,— he replied, his teeth clenched just remembering it.— Behind her back. She insults her, mocks her with her friends. Taiga is… well, you saw her. She's a disaster. She yells, she sticks her nose where it doesn't belong, she cooks terribly. But she's my sister. She's helped raise me for as long as I can remember. She's always been there, even though she had no obligation to be.— He paused.— No one who speaks ill of her deserves my help or my consideration.
Sakura looked at him for a long time. Her eyes, usually dim, shone with a new light.
— And do you think I'm a petty, vindictive guy now?— Shirou asked, with an amused smile.— Instead of that kind, helpful boy everyone talks about?
She shook her head slowly.
— No,— she said, and her voice had a timbre Shirou hadn't heard before.— I think you're… loyal. That your friends, your family, matter more than the opinion of strangers. That's not petty. That's…— She searched for the word.— That's real.
Shirou felt a strange warmth in his chest. One that wasn't like his circuits activating. It was something simpler. More human.
— Thanks,— he said.
— For what?
— For understanding.
She looked down, and for a moment, her fingers intertwined more tightly. Then, almost without him noticing, her hand relaxed and she took a small step toward him. They didn't quite touch, but the distance between them had shrunk.
* * *
Sunset found them sitting on a bench in the central park, watching the sun tinge the sky in shades of orange and reddish. Shirou had bought two cans of tea from a vending machine, and they drank in silence, accompanied only by the rustle of leaves and the distant song of birds.
— Senpai,— Sakura said, breaking the silence.— Do you think a person can change?
Shirou thought about himself. About the child he was before the fire, of whom he remembered nothing. And about what he was now, a child caught between two tutors, an origin as powerful as it was dangerous, and a dying father.
— Yes,— he replied.— I think so…
— And if…— She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat.— And if a person has done, or has had done to them, bad things? Things they didn't choose? Can they still change?
Shirou looked at her. He saw the fear in her eyes. The guilt. The shadow of everything the visions had shown him.
— Sakura,— he said, with a gentleness that surprised even himself.— I don't know what you've done or what's been done to you. I don't know where you come from or where you're going. But I know one thing: no one is beyond redemption. As long as you're still here, breathing, there's hope. And as long as I'm here…— He swallowed, gathering courage.— As long as I'm here, you can count on me. For anything.
She looked at him, and for the first time all day, her eyes weren't veiled. They were clear, moist, and full of an emotion so pure it hurt.
— Senpai…
— You can call me Shirou,— he interrupted, with a smile.— If we're going to be friends, better without formalities.
She nodded slowly. And then, with a voice that was barely a whisper, she said:
— Shirou.
His name on her lips sounded like a prayer.
* * *
When the sun had fully set and the first stars began to appear, Shirou walked Sakura to the vicinity of the Matou mansion. Not to the door—she asked him not to—but to the corner from which the dark silhouette of the mansion was visible.
— Thank you,— she said, stopping.— For today. For everything.
— Thank you,— he replied.— For spending the day with me. It was… the best in a long time.
She smiled. A small, fragile smile, but authentic.
— Tomorrow?— she asked, with a shyness that broke his soul.
— Tomorrow,— Shirou confirmed.— After class. In the music room. I'll bring more buns.
She nodded, and for a moment, Shirou felt the impulse to hug her. To protect her from all the evil he knew lurked around her. But he held back. It wasn't the time. Not yet.
— Take care, Sakura.
— You too, Shirou.
And as she walked away toward the mansion, her figure silhouetted against the dying light of the streetlamps, Shirou Emiya made a silent promise.
'No matter what I have to do. No matter who I have to face. I'll get you out of there. I'll give you the life you deserve.'
'I promise you.'