Fujimura Taiga had always been an expressive woman. Loud, energetic, dramatic—someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve. But right now, she was silent. Too silent. She sat frozen at the dining table, her chopsticks held in mid-air, her eyes locked onto Shirō with an unreadable expression. Beside her, Sakura had lowered her gaze, her fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her skirt. Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Shirō had expected disbelief, maybe anger, maybe more laughter. But not this.
She swallowed. She had already said too much, but if she stopped now, she'd be a coward. And if she was going to break their hearts, she'd rather do it with the truth than with a comforting lie.
So she continued.
She told them things only Shirō Emiya could know—memories, details, secrets they had shared over the years. She recounted the time she and Fujimura had stayed up late watching movies, how Fujimura had cried at the silliest romance film while Shirō sat there, completely unimpressed. She brought up the time Sakura had overcooked a meal and nearly burst into tears, and Shirō had eaten every single bite with a straight face just to make her feel better. She mentioned Fujimura's tendency to cheat at board games when she thought no one was looking, and how Sakura secretly liked her tea with just a bit more sugar than she ever admitted.
One by one, she laid out the proof. Every small moment, every inside joke, every tiny habit she had learned over years of being their Shirō.
Fujimura's lips parted slightly, but she still didn't speak.
Sakura's hands gripped the tablecloth tighter.
Shirō exhaled slowly. She couldn't tell them about the Holy Grail War. She couldn't tell them about Servants, Masters, or why she had really changed. But she could tell them what mattered.
She told them how she had woken up one day like this. How she had no explanation, no reason, nothing that made sense. How she had looked in the mirror and seen a stranger staring back at her. How she had spent days in denial, trying to figure out what had happened, only to come up empty. How she had thought of them—thought of coming home—but hesitated because she didn't know if they would accept her.
Because who would believe something so absurd?
Fujimura's expression tightened, and she finally set down her chopsticks. She ran a hand through her hair, muttering something under her breath. Then, at last, she spoke.
"So… Shirō became a foreign-looking girl?"
Her voice was too casual, too forced, like she was trying to make sense of something she really, really didn't want to believe.
Shirō nodded.
Fujimura exhaled, rubbing her temples. "You're seriously telling me that you, my dumb little Shirō, the one who never had a clue about women, somehow turned into this?" She gestured vaguely at Shirō's current appearance. "This ridiculously pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl?"
Shirō nodded again, feeling awkward. "...Yeah."
Fujimura groaned. "Of course. Of course something like this would happen to you."
Shirō didn't know how to respond to that.
Sakura, on the other hand, still hadn't spoken. Her eyes were downcast, her lips pressed tightly together. She looked as if she were on the verge of crying.
Shirō frowned. "Sakura?"
The girl's shoulders trembled.
"...You're really Shirō?" Her voice was small.
"Yes."
"You're not lying?"
"I would never lie about this."
A choked breath escaped Sakura's lips, and suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes. Shirō barely had a second to react before she felt Sakura's arms wrap around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Shirō stiffened.
"...You idiot," Sakura whispered against her shoulder. "Do you know how worried I was? Do you know how much I—" Her voice cracked, and she buried her face deeper against Shirō.
Shirō hesitated, then slowly returned the hug. "...I'm sorry."
Fujimura was watching them, her lips pressed into a tight line. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. "God, what kind of weird sci-fi nonsense is this?" She muttered. "You wake up as a girl, don't remember how it happened, and now you're just… what, living like this?"
Shirō pulled away from Sakura, nodding. "I didn't have much of a choice."
Fujimura shook her head. "...I don't get it. I don't want to get it. But—" She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Hell, I don't know. If anyone else told me this, I'd call them crazy. But you…" She paused, staring at Shirō. "You are Shirō, aren't you?"
Shirō met her gaze. "Yes."
Fujimura groaned again. "Damn it. Why can't you ever just be normal?"
Shirō let out a short laugh. "I've been asking myself the same thing."