Fate: Emblem Heroes (Fate/Stay Night x Fire Emblem Heroes)

[StrikeMechanic23]

Hello, readers! After re-downloading and playing FSN, I'm inspired enough to create a one-shot crossover fanfic like this, where Shirou's background is very different due to his past life!

This was originally a one-shot crossover fic, but due to enough reader reception on SpaceBattles, I'll have to balance this out carefully due to real-life events, and I'm also busy writing "The Demon-Summoning Samurai of Kivotos".

This is now a multi-chapter fic!

Are you readers ready?

Type-Moon and the Fire Emblem franchises belong to their respective owners.

---

Fate: Emblem Heroes

Chapter 1: Prologue – Rebirth by Fire
​

---

The world burned.
​

Fuyuki City had become hell incarnate... a writhing apocalypse of flame and shadow that consumed everything in its path. Buildings collapsed like broken toys. The screams of the dying echoed through smoke-choked streets. And in the heart of this inferno, a boy with auburn hair stumbled through the wreckage, his small body battered and broken.

'I'm going to die here.'

The thought came with eerie clarity.

From what he could remember, his current name was…

Shirou.

An eight-year-old boy, orphaned in an instant, couldn't feel his legs anymore. Couldn't remember where he'd been running from. Couldn't recall what his parents' faces looked like.

He collapsed against a pile of rubble, vision swimming. Above him, the night sky glowed an angry crimson, as if the heavens themselves were aflame.

'Is this... the end?'

His right hand twitched.

Something stirred within him… Not pain, not fear, but warmth. A presence both foreign and intimately familiar, like remembering a dream upon waking. His fingers moved of their own accord, reaching toward the smoke-filled air.

Light erupted from his palm.

Shirou gasped as a weapon materialized in his grip—sleek, otherworldly, humming with divine energy. It resembled a gun, yet its design transcended anything that should exist in this burning world. Golden accents traced along white and blue metal. Runes he didn't understand pulsed with soft luminescence.

'Breidablik… The divine relic capable of summoning Heroes from multiple worlds.'

The name came unbidden, rising from the depths of memory that shouldn't exist. His seven-year-old mind reeled as knowledge flooded through him—not learned, but remembered. Images cascaded like a broken dam:

'A castle floating among clouds.'

'Countless Heroes from a hundred different worlds, all answering his call.'

'Battles against fellow mortals, gods, beasts, monsters, and demons.'

'Friendships forged by fire across impossible distances.'

'A world-tree connecting infinite realms.'

'A final confrontation with a being called Rune… or rather, Alfaðör, the Creator himself.'

'And a name...'

'His name is...'

'Kiran.'

"I was… Kiran… the Summoner…" Shirou whispered, his child's voice barely audible over the roar of flames. "I commanded the Order of Heroes. We defeated Alfaðör the Creator. I..."

Shirou stared at the Breidablik, this impossible artifact from a life he'd somehow lived and lost. The divine weapon pulsed in response to his recognition, as if welcoming home a long-absent master.

Rune's final words echoed in his recovered memory:

"This is my blessing to you, Summoner. Reincarnation with memories and power intact. It will serve you well in the next world."

"The next world..." Shirou looked around at the burning hellscape of Fuyuki. "This world."

The weapon felt weightless in his hand despite its impossible nature. Part of him wanted to test it, to call forth the Heroes he remembered commanding. But exhaustion dragged at his consciousness. The Breidablik flickered—responding to his wavering will.

'Not yet,' Shirou thought as some instinct whispered in him. 'The time isn't right.'

With effort born from memories of a lifetime spent mastering this artifact, Shirou dismissed the Breidablik. It dissolved into motes of light, vanishing back into whatever space between worlds it inhabited when not summoned.

His hand fell limp.

The pain returned immediately…

As his burns, his broken ribs, the smoke filled his lungs, Shirou coughed violently, tasting ash and blood. His vision darkened at the edges.

'I survived a war against the Creator of the Nine Realms, only to die in a fire as a child?'

The irony would have been funny if he weren't so tired.

Shirou heard footsteps.

Through the haze of smoke and delirium, Shirou saw a figure approaching.

A man, tall and gaunt, wearing what had once been a business suit, now torn and stained with soot and blood. His face was haggard, his eyes hollow with the weight of some unbearable burden.

The man stopped when he saw Shirou. His eyes widened.

For a long moment, neither moved. The man seemed frozen, staring at the broken child amid the rubble as if he were seeing a ghost. His lips trembled. His hands shook.

Then he ran towards Shirou, a mere boy walking through what seemed to be the fires from the Realm of Hel itself.

Shirou didn't have the strength to react as the man dropped to his knees and pulled him into a desperate embrace. The stranger's body trembled violently, and Shirou felt wetness against his shoulder… tears, hot and uncontrolled.

"You survived," The man choked out, his voice raw with emotion Shirou couldn't identify. Relief? Anguish? Both? "Someone... someone actually survived. I saved... I finally saved someone..."

The words came out broken, fragmented, as if the man couldn't quite believe them himself. His grip tightened—not painfully, but with the desperation of someone clutching the last piece of driftwood in a storm.

Shirou's memories as Kiran stirred. He'd commanded hundreds of Heroes and witnessed countless reunions between warriors separated by death and by dimension. He recognized grief when he saw it. Recognized guilt.

'This man…' Shirou looked at the disheveled man. 'This man has failed to save people before… Many people.'

As the man kept hugging Shirou, this made Shirou gather his strength to ask the stranger a question.

"Who..." Shirou's voice came out as barely a whisper. "Who are you?"

The man pulled back slightly, just enough to look Shirou in the face. His expression was a mask of barely-controlled emotion—joy and sorrow warring for dominance. When he spoke, his voice cracked.

"Kiritsugu," he said. "Kiritsugu Emiya."

'Emiya,' Shirou's fading consciousness, noted. 'Will my last name be the same as…'

"I'm taking you home," Kiritsugu continued, carefully lifting the boy into his arms. "You're going to live. I promise you that."

As Kiritsugu carried him away from the flames, Shirou's consciousness finally began to slip. The last thing he registered before darkness claimed him was the feeling that his life had just been irrevocably changed.

A god had blessed him with reincarnation.

And a broken man had given him a name.
​

---

Ten Years Later
January 31st, 4:00 AM

Shirou Emiya woke with a gasp.

His hand shot out instinctively, fingers grasping empty air before his conscious mind caught up with muscle memory honed across two lifetimes. His heart hammered against his ribs as the dream—no, the memory—faded into wakefulness.

The Fuyuki Fire.

It was always the Fuyuki Fire.

He sat up slowly in his futon, running a hand through sweat-dampened hair. The pre-dawn darkness of his room felt oppressive, shadows clinging to corners like accusatory specters. His breathing gradually steadied as he grounded himself in the present. Shriou looked at a nearby clock, and it was 4:03 am.

'January 31st, approximately 4:00 am. I'm eighteen... A decade after Kiritsugu saved my life…'

The knowledge sat heavily in his gut. Between his recovered memories as Kiran and the research he'd conducted over the past decade, Shirou knew what was coming.

The Holy Grail War…

A battle royale between seven mages and their summoned Servants, all fighting for a wish-granting chalice.

A chalice that, if his suspicions were correct, had been corrupted by the very curse he'd survived as a child.

His right hand twitched, knowing that the Fifth Iteration of the Holy Grail War was on the horizon.

Before he consciously decided to do it, light bloomed in his palm. The Breidablik materialized with familiar weight, its divine presence a stark contrast to the mundane bedroom around him. Even in darkness, the weapon's golden accents seemed to glow with inner radiance.

Shirou stared at it, turning the artifact over in his hands.

"Why?" Shirou whispered to the empty room. "Why do I still have you?"

It was a question he'd asked countless times over the past ten years. According to everything he'd learned about reincarnation in both his lives, items didn't carry over. Memories, perhaps. Soul-bound contracts, maybe. But physical objects—especially divine artifacts of Breidablik's caliber—shouldn't have followed him into this new existence.

Yet here it was.

The weapon responded to his touch as perfectly as it had in his life as Kiran. He'd tested it cautiously over the years, summoning Heroes in secret, dismissing them quickly before anyone could notice. The contracts remained intact. The power remains unchanged.

'Rune's blessing was more thorough than I understood,' Shirou mused, running his thumb over the intricate rune-work. 'Or perhaps…'

He recalled something Veronica had once told him, back at the final battle of Ragnarök:

"The Breidablik is not merely a weapon, Summoner. It is a Fire Emblem… It is a divine artifact that bonds with its chosen wielder. You and it are two halves of a whole."

If that were true… If Shirou himself was somehow part of the Breidablik, then perhaps it hadn't followed him through reincarnation at all. Perhaps it had simply... waited. It lay dormant until its other half awakened to remember what he was.

The implications were staggering.

A Fire Emblem.

Artifacts or entities that define the pinnacle of that world's hope, a final message to those who would stand against good, justice, and the oppressed.

Fire Emblems could assume multiple forms, depending on the world they came from.

Most of the time, they were items or weapons, such as a Sword or a Medallion.

But occasionally, a Fire Emblem might manifest as a sapient being, with the two versions of the same Hero from two versions of the World of Elyos could attest.

Now, for the Breidablik itself…

A divine artifact connected to Yggdrasill, the World-Tree that linked all realms touched by the Fire Emblems. A weapon blessed by Rune Alfaðör himself, the Creator who stood above even the gods.

And somehow, it existed here.

In a world governed by Gaia and Alaya, where the Root dictated reality, and the Throne of Heroes supplied Servants for eternal conflict…

'Two metaphysical systems that shouldn't be able to coexist,' Shirou thought. 'Yet here I am. Shirou Emiya, who is also Kiran. A human boy adopted by Kiritsugu, who is also the Summoner blessed by a god from another cosmology entirely.'

The Breidablik pulsed in his hand as if acknowledging his thoughts.

Shirou dismissed it with practiced ease. The weapon dissolved into light, returning to whatever dimensional space it inhabited when not manifested. The room fell dark again.

He lay back down but knew sleep wouldn't return. Not tonight. Not with the dream—the memory—still fresh in his mind. Not with the weight of knowledge pressing down on him.

'The Fifth Holy Grail War… Kiritsugu never stopped talking about it,' he thought, staring at the ceiling. 'Kiritsugu fought in the Fourth War. It destroyed him during his so-called 'victory', and it turned him into the hollow shell of a man who could barely look at me without seeing his failures.'

His adoptive father had died five years ago, revealing everything he knew to Shirou. Yet, one of the things Kiritsugu didn't pass on to Shirou was learning magic properly, except for Structural Analysis and Reinforcement, citing that other types of magic, or magecraft, were too dangerous, even for Shirou.

Shirou knew that Kiritsugu had his reasons, but he let that side because, to be fair to Kiritsugu, the old man didn't know of his secret – that he had the Breidablik with him.

Instead, Shirou focused on the upcoming, harrowing events that would happen in the next few days.

'Seven Masters. Seven Servants. A corrupted wish-granting device.'

And now, added to that volatile mixture: one reincarnated Summoner with access to an army of Heroes from across infinite worlds.

"The rules are about to change," Shirou murmured to the darkness. "As to how it can change, even I don't know…"

Outside, the first hints of pre-dawn light began touching the horizon. Soon, Fuyuki City would wake to another ordinary day. Students would head to school. Salarymen would catch their trains. Life would continue its mundane rhythm, unaware that forces beyond human comprehension were converging on their city.

As he called upon it again, Shirou looked at his hands and gazed at the very divine artifact that Commander Anna had given to him in his past life as Kiran.

The Fire Emblem of the World of Zenith.

The Breidablik.

As he looked at the Breidablik, Shirou knew it didn't belong here.

It wasn't a sword, at least in its default state…

It wasn't something he'd seen and reproduced.

Yet, it existed within his subconscious, nonetheless, a foreign element that his magic acknowledged as intrinsically his.

'Princess Veronica was right. It's because we're two halves of the same whole,' Shirou thought again. 'The weapon and its wielder. Zenith's Fire Emblem and its chosen.'

He opened his eyes and stood, moving to the window. Fuyuki spread before him in the growing light. It was peaceful, ordinary… and doomed.

"Kiritsugu," Shirou spoke softly to the memory of his father. "You tried to save the world through the Grail and failed. You told me to find my path, to learn from your mistakes."

His hands gripped the Breidablik tightly.

"I don't know if this is the path you wanted for me. But I have power you never dreamed of. Knowledge of threats you never understood. And if that corrupted Grail is what you and I think it is..."

The resolve that had driven Kiran through countless battles, the determination that pushed Shirou to train himself to exhaustion every day, crystallized into certainty.

Shirou raised the Breidablik, briefly shifting it into its Sword, Lance, Axe, and Tome forms before reverting it to its Dire form.

"Then I'm going to do what you couldn't. I'm going to save them. All of my loved ones."

Shirou knew he only had a few days.

A few days until the Holy Grail War began.

A few days to prepare for a conflict that would reshape the fate of Fuyuki City.

And Shirou Emiya… The boy who was also Kiran, the human who wielded a divine summoning artifact, the survivor who remembered two lives…

He would be ready.

He needed to.

In his hands, the Breidablik pulsed with agreement.

The blessing of a god, given to save a world.

The time to fulfill that purpose was coming.

---

End of Chapter
​

 

[MrSplashy]

Interesting, I am gonna watch this thread with anticipation. I wanna see how this goes.

 

[StrikeMechanic23]

Hey there, readers!

After a couple of replies, I decided to continue with this crossover fic, given that a lot of you readers have already subscribed.

I'll somehow balance this with the other crossover fic I'm writing. This might result in Schedule Slips (from one post a week to one post per two weeks, plus real-life stuff), but given this fic's reception, I suppose I'll manage.

Although if any of you are willing to help me out in planning this, I'd appreciate it.

---

Shirou dismissed the Breidablik with a thought. The divine artifact dissolved into motes of light, returning to whatever space between dimensions it called home when not manifested.

He rose from his futon, moving through his morning routine with mechanical precision. The bath took longer than usual—he needed the hot water to wash away both the sweat from his nightmare and the lingering unease that always followed those memories.

An hour later, dressed in his Homurahara Academy uniform, Shirou made his way toward the kitchen.

The scent of miso and rice greeted him before he rounded the corner.

"Good morning, Senpai!" Sakura Matou smiled from her position near the counter, already wearing an apron over her own school uniform.

Her purple hair was tied back neatly, and her expression carried that familiar, gentle warmth.

"Morning, Sakura," Shirou replied, moving to wash his hands at the sink. "You're here early again."

"I wanted to help with breakfast before school," she said, her hands already moving to gather ingredients. "What would Senpai like today?"

Shirou considered for a moment. "Tamagoyaki and miso soup sound nice."

"Understood!" Sakura nodded, her smile brightening slightly. "If... if Senpai wants, I can also add omurice to our bento? For lunch?"

"That sounds perfect," Shirou agreed. "I'll help with the prep work."

They fell into an easy rhythm—Sakura handling the eggs for the tamagoyaki while Shirou prepared the dashi stock for the miso soup. The kitchen was filled with the familiar sounds of cooking: the sizzle of egg hitting the pan, the gentle simmer of soup, the soft clink of utensils.

But something felt... off.

The Breidablik—dormant within whatever space it occupied when dismissed—pulsed faintly in his awareness. Not a warning, exactly. More like... recognition. The same way it had responded when he'd encountered corrupted beings such as Fallen Heroes in his past life.

Shirou glanced at Sakura, and he noticed that she was focused on rolling the tamagoyaki with practiced precision, her movements gentle and controlled. Nothing seemed outwardly wrong. And yet...

Sakura's hands trembled slightly, just for a moment.

"Um…" She noticed his gaze and looked up, her smile faltering. "Is... is something wrong, Senpai?"

"No," Shirou said, turning back to the soup. He stirred slowly, keeping his tone casual. "Just making sure the miso doesn't boil too hard."

As Sakura resumed her focus on the tamagoyaki, Shirou knew that the lie came too easily.

"I see..." Sakura relaxed slightly, though her shoulders remained tense. "I'll be more careful with the heat."

Shirou let it slide. For now. But he filed the observation away—the trembling hands, the Breidablik's faint response, and the tension she tried to hide beneath that gentle smile.

'Later,' Shirou told himself. 'I'll figure out what's wrong later.'

The breakfast came together without further incident. Tamagoyaki, perfectly rolled and slightly sweet. Miso soup with tofu and wakame. Two bento boxes packed with omurice, the egg wrapping each portion with golden precision.

By the time they settled in the living room with their meal, the clock showed 5:30 AM.

The shoji door slid open with more force than necessary.

"Fooood..." Taiga Fujimura stumbled into the room, still groggy despite being fully dressed in her usual outfit. Her hair was damp from a recent bath, hanging somewhat limply around her face. "Shirou, I smell breakfast... Please tell me there's breakfast..."

"Good morning, Fuji-nee," Shirou said dryly, already setting out a third portion.

Taiga collapsed at the table with all the grace of a puppet whose strings had been cut. "Morning, Shirou... Coffee... I need coffee..."

Sakura giggled softly, rising to prepare tea. "I'll get it ready, Fujimura-sensei."

"Sakura-chan, you're an angel," Taiga mumbled into her arms. "Unlike this heartless student of mine who makes me wake up at ungodly hours..."

"You're the one who insisted on staying here to 'supervise' me," Shirou pointed out, placing chopsticks beside her bowl. "I didn't ask you to match my schedule."

"Details..." Taiga waved a hand vaguely. "Minor details..."

---

The three of them ate in comfortable silence for a few moments. Taiga's transformation was almost instantaneous—one sip of coffee, and the groggy teacher became her usual energetic self.

"You know what's great?" Taiga grinned, pointing her chopsticks at Shirou. "Not only is it the last day of the month, but it's also Friday! The weekend is almost here!"

"Saturday's still a half-day," Shirou reminded her, taking a bite of tamagoyaki.

"It's still going to be a wonderful day," Sakura added softly, her smile genuine despite the lingering tension Shirou had noticed earlier.

Taiga's expression shifted then, her usual playfulness fading into something more serious. She set down her chopsticks, fingers drumming against the table.

"Speaking of which…" Taiga revealed. "I've been hearing some concerning rumors lately."

"Fuji-nee?" Shirou looked up. "Can you tell us more about those rumors?"

"There's apparently been a gas leak in the neighboring Shinto district," Taiga said, her voice dropping slightly. "Multiple incidents over the past week. People have been found unconscious... in comas, actually."

Shirou's gaze shifted to Sakura, and then to Taiga, who continued on with her explanation.

"The official story is about faulty gas lines, but..." Taiga continued as she shook her head. "Just be careful, okay? Avoid that area if you two can."

As Taiga finished rambling, Sakura looked genuinely confused, her brow furrowing slightly.

"A gas leak?" Sakura mumbled. "That sounds terrible..."

But Shirou's eyes narrowed, just for a fraction of a second.

Sakura noticed. Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly, and her fingers tightened around her chopsticks. Yet, she said nothing.

"Anyway!" Taiga's cheerful demeanor returned as quickly as it had left. She waved her hand dismissively, grabbing another piece of tamagoyaki. "Those are just rumors I heard around the faculty room. Don't take it too seriously, okay? The city officials are probably handling it."

"If... if Fujimura-sensei says so," Sakura said quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Right," Shirou agreed, forcing his tone to remain casual. "It's best not to think too much about rumors, especially when we need to focus on getting ready for school."

The rest of breakfast passed without incident. The earlier tension dissipated beneath mundane conversation—Taiga complaining about her students, Sakura mentioning a test in her class, Shirou confirming their lunch plans.

When the meal ended, Shirou stood and began gathering dishes.

"Don't worry, Sakura," Shirou assured her. "I'll help with the cleanup."

"Thank you, Senpai," Sakura said, rising as well.

Together, they moved to the kitchen sink. Taiga wandered off to finish getting ready, her voice echoing from somewhere deeper in the house as she sang off-key.

The water ran. Dishes clinked softly. And neither Shirou nor Sakura mentioned the moment that had passed between them.

It was not yet the time, it seemed.

---

Fate: Emblem Heroes

Chapter 2: A Typical Fuyuki School Day
​

---

Taiga had already rushed ahead, her bag bouncing against her hip as she called back something about "preparing lesson materials" before disappearing around the corner.

"Fujimura-sensei really is energetic in the mornings," Sakura said softly, helping Shirou secure the gate lock. The metal clicked into place with a satisfying sound.

"When she's had coffee, anyway," Shirou replied, checking the lock twice out of habit. "Before that, she's basically a zombie."

Sakura's quiet laugh was like wind chimes—gentle and fleeting.

They set off together, their pace leisurely. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of early spring despite winter's lingering chill. Students in similar uniforms passed them in groups, chattering about weekend plans and upcoming exams.

Shirou's attention drifted to Sakura as they walked.

Her sleeves shifted with each step, the fabric of her uniform rising and falling naturally. And there—just for a moment—he saw it.

A dark purple bruise, almost black at the edges. It's circular, like... like fingers had gripped her wrist too tightly.

The Breidablik pulsed faintly within him, indicating something was off, in the same vein as earlier during breakfast.

"Sakura," Shirou said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Your wrist..."

Sakura froze mid-step, her hand immediately moving to cover the mark.

"It's…" Sakura stammered. "It's nothing, Senpai."

"Hmm…" Shirou muttered, gazing at her bruise before asking Sakura. "Was it Shinji?"

The question came out sharper than he intended. Shirou knew about Sakura's brother—arrogant, entitled, prone to taking out his frustrations on those weaker than him. If that bastard had...

"No! Nee-san didn't…" Sakura shook her head quickly, her expression almost panicked. "I mean, Shinji didn't…"

Shirou and Sakura briefly stopped walking, and Shirou gazed at Sakura's purple eyes.

"I accidentally stumbled yesterday at home. I caught myself wrong and..." Sakura looked away, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Please don't worry about it, Senpai."

The Breidablik's pulse intensified slightly.

The divine artifact was somehow telling Shirou that whatever bruise Sakura had…

It was not just a bruise.

There were faint traces of something else… It was something the divine artifact recognized instinctively.

It was magic… old magic, mixed with the dark magic Shirou had sensed earlier via the Breidablik.

While both magic signatures were separate, both were… off in ways that Shirou couldn't yet understand.

Shirou's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to relax. Pushing now would only make Sakura retreat further. He'd learned that much over the months she'd been coming to help at his house.

Also, the masquerade of the Moonlit World was being applied. Thus, Shirou couldn't afford to act rashly.

In the end, Shirou decided to let this slide for now.

"Just... be more careful, okay?" Shirou said, his tone gentler. "Sakura, if you need anything…"

"I'll be fine, Senpai," Sakura interrupted, her smile returning though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you for worrying about me."

As much as Shirou noticed that Sakura was trying to assure him, he knew she was lying.

But Shirou let it go for now… for her sake and for the secrecy of the Moonlit World.

They continued walking, the conversation shifting to safer topics—homework assignments, lunch menu speculation, and whether the archery club would practice today, given the weather.

---

When they reached the school grounds, the diverging paths became literal.

"I'll see you after classes, Senpai," Sakura said, bowing slightly.

"Yeah," Shirou replied. "Take care, Sakura."

Sakura headed toward the first-year building, her purple hair catching the morning light as she disappeared into the crowd of students.

Shirou watched her go for a moment longer than necessary.

Then, he turned toward his own building, climbing the stairs to the second-year hallway. Students milled about in clusters, some rushing to finish homework, others gossiping about whatever drama had unfolded yesterday.

He'd barely made it three steps inside when a familiar voice stopped him.

"Emiya."

Shirou turned.

Rin Tohsaka stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall with practiced casualness. Her dark hair was tied back in her signature twin-tails, and her brown eyes studied him with an intensity that made lesser students nervous.

She was eyeing him closely as if she was trying to assess him, akin to solving a particularly irritating puzzle.

"Tohsaka," Shirou acknowledged, keeping his expression neutral. "Is there something I can help you with?"

 

[StrikeMechanic23]

As he said those words, Shirou gazed at Rin Tohsaka.

From what he knew, Rin often presented herself as an honor student, someone for other classmates to admire from a distance.

Yet, there was something about her that Shirou noticed.

"Emiya…" Rin said, her tone carrying something between observation and accusation. "You're punctual, as always."

"Tohsaka…" Shirou blinked. "Is... Is it wrong to be punctual?"

Shirou's simple remark sends a change in Rin's facial expressions, which the boy clearly notices.

"What? No!" Rin straightened immediately, uncrossing her arms. "That's not… I didn't mean it like that. It's just..."

Rin gestured vaguely, clearly flustered as she tried to look around her surroundings to avert her eyes.

"It's one of your defining traits, that's all," Rin continued. "You're always here early, always prepared, always... reliable."

The way she said that last word made it sound like both a compliment and a criticism.

Before Shirou could respond, footsteps approached from behind.

"Emiya… And Tohsaka." Issei Ryuudou's voice carried the particular blend of authority and exasperation that came with being Student Council President.

As Shirou and Rin looked at Issei, he adjusted his glasses, looking between them with mild disapproval. "Homeroom starts in five minutes. I suggest you both get to your respective classrooms."

"Hmph," Rin huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I was just leaving. I'll see you later, Emiya."

She shot Shirou one last indecipherable look before she strode off with the kind of confidence that made other students instinctively move out of her way.

"Emiya," Issei watched her go, then turned to Shirou with raised eyebrows. "What was Tohsaka talking to you about?"

"Tohsaka was just checking if I was okay," Shirou said, falling into step beside his friend as they headed toward their classroom.

"Checking on you?" Issei's skepticism was palpable. "It's not that I have a problem with classmates looking out for each other's well-being, but... I didn't expect that to come from Tohsaka, of all people. She's not exactly known for casual concern."

"That's just how it is sometimes," Shirou replied with a slight shrug. He quickly changed subjects, knowing Issei's tendency to overthink social dynamics. "How's that fan I fixed a few days ago? Still working properly?"

Issei's expression brightened immediately. "Oh, yes! It's running perfectly now. The Student Council room is much more bearable during meetings. I meant to thank you properly for that."

"It was the right thing to do," Shirou said simply. "No need to thank me."

To Shirou, the Structural Analysis he'd used on the fan's motor had shown him exactly which component was failing. A simple fix, really, once you understand the underlying structure.

"Still, not everyone would take the time," Issei pushed open the classroom door. "Your handyman reputation is well-earned, Emiya."

They entered the classroom together, navigating between desks toward their assigned seats. Other students were trickling in, some still yawning, others cramming last-minute review notes.

Shirou had just settled into his seat when the door slid open again.

"Alright, everyone! Good morning!" Taiga's voice boomed across the classroom, and all traces of her earlier grogginess completely vanished. She strode to the podium with exaggerated energy, slapping a stack of papers down. "I hope you're all ready for another exciting day of learning!"

Several students groaned.

Shirou allowed himself a small smile, pulling out his notebook as homeroom officially began.

---

A few hours later, the lunch bell rang with its familiar chime.

Shirou gathered his omurice bento, the one Sakura had carefully prepared that morning, and headed toward the stairs. Most students preferred the cafeteria or their classrooms, which made the rooftop their preferred spot. Quiet. Peaceful. A good place to think.

He stopped by a vending machine on the way, feeding coins into the slot until a bottle of water clunked into the dispensing tray.

The rooftop door creaked slightly as he pushed it open. Sunlight spilled across the concrete, warm despite the lingering winter chill. Shirou found his usual spot near the railing, settling down with his back against the wall.

The omurice was still warm.

Sakura's cooking was always precise, and the egg was perfectly cooked, the rice was seasoned just right.

He opened the bento and was about to take his first bite when he heard footsteps, and the door opened again.

Rin Tohsaka stepped onto the rooftop, carrying a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a can of lemonade. Cafeteria purchases, from the look of them.

She froze when she saw him.

Her eyes widened momentarily before she recovered her composure with practiced ease.

"Emiya," Rin casually asked, staring at his bento. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm eating lunch," Shirou replied simply, gesturing to his bento. "I assume you're doing the same, Tohsaka?"

Rin blinked. Then she huffed softly, moving toward the opposite corner of the rooftop.

"Fine," Rin answered. "It seems we had the same idea for today."

She sat down with her back to the far wall, unwrapping her sandwich with deliberate movements. The can of lemonade hissed as she popped it open.

Shirou returned his attention to his meal.

Then the Breidablik hummed.

It was barely noticeable unless you knew what to feel for.

However, Shirou had spent two lifetimes attuned to the divine artifact's responses. It recognized something.

Magic.

Shirou's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.

The sensation was faint but unmistakable. This magic was coming from Rin.

From the Breidablik, Shirou could detect a gentle pulse of magical energy, steady and controlled.

But what struck him most was the quality. Via the Breidablik, Rin's magic was clean, clear, flowing like a river downstream. It felt organized and disciplined.

Nothing like what he'd sensed in Sakura's bruise on her arm. That had been dark, corrupted, clinging like oil on water.

In contrast, Rin's was... pure. It was the kind of magic that came from formal training and natural talent working in harmony.

Shirou's eyes started to drift toward Rin before he caught himself.

He forced his gaze back to his bento, taking a bite of omurice without really tasting it.

'Tohsaka Rin is a magus,' Shirou thought, carefully keeping his expression neutral. 'And from the feel of it, not an amateur either.'

The Breidablik's hum faded back to dormancy, having made its observation.

Rin seemed not to know any better, even though, as a magus, she should've perceived the Breidablik sensing her magical signatures.

Shirou mentally noted the summoning artifact's divine nature being incomprehensible to even a magus like Rin Tohsaka.

And so, both students ate in silence.

The only sounds were the distant chatter of students from the courtyard below, the occasional rustle of plastic wrap, and the soft clink of a lemonade can being set down.

Rin finished first. She gathered her trash, stood, and walked toward the door without a word.

Just before leaving, she paused.

"Emiya."

"Oh?" Shirou looked up. "What is it, Tohsaka?"

Rin's expression was unreadable. "...Never mind. I'll see you in class."

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

Shirou sat alone on the rooftop for a few moments longer, staring at his half-finished bento.

Two magi in his immediate circle. Sakura, carrying something dark and hidden. Rin, radiating controlled power.

And the Fifth Holy Grail War was about to begin.

'This isn't a coincidence,' Shirou thought, closing his bento box slowly. 'Nothing about this is a coincidence.'

He stood, gathered his things, and headed back inside.

Afternoon classes awaited.

And apparently, so did far more complicated problems than he'd anticipated.

---

A few more hours later, the final bell rang.

Shirou gathered his belongings methodically: notebook, textbook, pencil case, and so on. He headed toward the exit. The halls were crowded with students eager to start their weekends, their voices echoing off the walls in overlapping conversations.

He'd arranged to meet Sakura outside the Archery Club building.

The walk there took him past familiar landmarks: the courtyard fountain, the equipment shed, the practice fields where various clubs were already setting up. As he approached the archery dojo, his steps slowed involuntarily.

The building stood quiet in the fading sunlight, its traditional architecture casting long shadows across the grounds. Through the open doors, he could see current members practicing their forms, the rhythmic release of bowstrings creating a steady percussion.

Shirou's right shoulder twitched. He felt phantom pain from an injury that had forced him to quit the club months ago.

But that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The injury had been real enough. But the reason he'd never returned... that was something else. His past life as Kiran, wielding the Breidablik in its Dire form as a ranged weapon, had fundamentally changed how he understood projectile combat. The rigid forms and traditional stances of kyudo felt... limited. Restrictive.

He'd already mastered something far more versatile.

"Senpai?"

Shirou turned. Sakura stood a few paces away, her bag held against her chest, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Shirou said, forcing a slight smile. "Just remembering something. Ready to head back?"

"Yes." Sakura fell into step beside him as they started toward his house.

The walk was quiet at first, comfortable in the way that came from routine. But Shirou's attention kept drifting to Sakura's exposed wrist.

The bruise was still there, darker now in the evening light. And beneath it, that subtle pulse of magic. Not just surface-level corruption from the mark itself, but something deeper. Something woven into her very being, radiating faint traces of dark magic with each heartbeat.

Shirou could feel the Breidablik recognizing it.

But Shirou said nothing, knowing the implications.

They walked past the school gates, onto the residential streets where shops were beginning to close, and streetlights flickered to life one by one.

"Senpai," Sakura said suddenly, breaking the silence. "May I... tell you something?"

"Of course."

She looked down at the sidewalk as they walked, her voice soft and almost hesitant. "Four years ago... I saw a boy practicing high jump alone. It was during the summer, and he was out there for hours. He kept missing the bar and kept knocking it down. But he never stopped. He just... kept trying. Over and over again, even when no one was watching."

Shirou felt a vague memory stir: sweat-soaked uniforms, the frustration of failing repeatedly, the stubborn determination to clear just one more centimeter.

"The sun was setting," Sakura continued, "and I remember thinking... how strange it was. To work so hard at something when no teacher was watching, no competition to win. Just... personal determination."

She glanced up at him, her expression carrying something fragile and precious.

"That boy was you, Senpai. It was the first time I'd seen you. And I've... I've admired you ever since."

The weight of that confession settled between them.

Shirou looked at Sakura, staring at the quiet sincerity in her eyes, at the way she held herself like someone afraid of being rejected, at the dark magic coiling beneath her skin that she tried so desperately to hide.

"I'm glad," Shirou said finally, "if I could be an inspiration to you. Even if it was just stubborn repetition."

Sakura's eyes glistened slightly. She looked down again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Senpai. For... for everything."

They continued walking.

The Matou household loomed ahead: a traditional Japanese estate that somehow felt colder than the surrounding buildings, despite its architectural beauty.

Shirou escorted her to the gate, watching as she prepared to enter the house that felt more like a prison with each passing observation.

As Shirou and Sakura approached the Matou household gate, a figure emerged from the shadows of the estate's entrance.

A decrepit old man. His skin looked like weathered parchment stretched over bone, wispy white hair that seemed to drift rather than hang, and his eyes held a depthless quality that made Shirou's instincts scream.

"Ah, Sakura. You've returned." The old man's voice was like dry leaves scraping against stone. "And with a companion, I see."

Shirou could swear he heard something else beneath that voice, like insects moving in the walls.

It made the old man more unsettling.

The Breidablik surged to life within him.

Not a gentle pulse this time. A sharp, immediate warning, the kind it had given when facing corrupted entities in his past life. The divine artifact's readings flooded his consciousness with a single, overwhelming message:

Whoever this old man is, he was something fundamentally wrong. Not human. Not anymore.

But Shirou's expression remained neutral, polite even.

"I'm Shirou Emiya. I was just escorting Sakura home."

"How considerate," The old man's smile was like a crack in a mask. "I am Zouken Matou, Sakura's grandfather."

His pale and rheumy eyes studied Shirou with an intensity that belied their aged appearance.

"Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter," Zouken continued, eyeing Shirou carefully. "I do hope... you'll remain friends with her."

The way he said "friends" made it sound like a threat and a test simultaneously.

"Of course," Shirou replied evenly.

Zouken's smile widened slightly, even though Shirou could discern that as a fake smile. He gestured toward Sakura with one gnarled hand. "Come, child. It's getting late."

"Yes, Grandfather." Sakura's voice was barely audible. She turned to Shirou, her expression carefully blank. "Thank you for walking me home, Senpai. I'll... see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Sakura," Shirou calmly replied to her. "Take care."

She bowed and followed Zouken through the gate. The old man's footsteps made that same chittering sound, like hundreds of tiny legs moving in unison beneath human skin.

The gate shut with a heavy, final clang.

Shirou stood there for a long moment, staring at the Matou estate. The building loomed in the gathering darkness, traditional architecture somehow twisted into something oppressive. Wrong.

'Like with Rin…' Shirou thought, his jaw tightening. 'Sakura, and her grandfather are all magi. But that old man...'

The Breidablik's readings had been unmistakable. Whatever Zouken Matou had been once, he wasn't fully human anymore.

Shirou felt it via his Breidablik.

Zouken Matou, whoever he was…

He was something that wore a human shape like a borrowed coat.

A monster in human skin.

Shirou's hands clenched at his sides. Every instinct from his life as Kiran: every battle against corrupted beings such as Fallen Heroes, and every encounter with entities that preyed on the innocent screamed at him to act.

But he couldn't.

The rules of the Moonlit World were absolute. Magi policed themselves. Interfering in another family's affairs, especially without evidence or authority, would mark him as an enemy to the entire magical community. And worse, it could put Sakura in even greater danger.

'Not yet,' Shirou told himself, forcing his hands to relax. 'I need to understand what's happening first. Need to know what that darkness inside her is, what that old monster is doing.'

Somehow, the Breidablik pulsed in agreement.

Shirou took one last glance at the Matou household, committing every detail to memory.

Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty street.

Sakura Matou was trapped in the middle of something terrible.

But Shirou Emiya, who was also Kiran, Summoner of Heroes, would find a way to save her.

He helped save the Nine Realms of Zenith.

He knew that he could save one girl from the monster wearing her grandfather's face.

He just needed time and a plan.

---

End of Chapter
​

 

[StrikeMechanic23]

Thanks again for the warm reception! Now, since my day-offs are limited, I had to rush this out! I hope I deliver this chapter fragment cleanly.

---

As he went home, Shirou had a lot of things on his mind.

Such as his interactions with Rin Tohsaka, and when he escorted Sakura to her home… and meeting Zouken Matou for the first time.

When the Breidablik detected Zouken's unnatural presence, it sent shudders down his spine.

Shirou was halfway home and lost in his thoughts when he noticed someone in front of him.

A young girl, who looked around ten or eleven, stood beneath a streetlight with an unnatural stillness. White hair fell past her shoulders like fresh snow, and her red eyes tracked his approach with an intensity that didn't belong in a child's face. She wore a purple winter coat that seemed too expensive for casual wear.

Something about this girl made Breidablik react immediately.

The divine artifact surged with recognition; not danger, exactly, but awareness. High concentrations of magical energy radiated from the girl in controlled, deliberate waves, far more than Rin's disciplined power and far cleaner than Sakura's corrupted aura.

'This girl… she's another magus,' Shirou realized, his steps slowing slightly. 'No… Not just a magus, but a Master.'

Which meant her Servant was nearby, likely watching him closely.

One wrong move, and this quiet street could become a battlefield.

The girl smiled as he approached, and as she did, Shirou looked at the girl's red eyes.

"You'd better summon your Servant soon," The young girl said, her voice carrying an odd mix of warning and amusement. "Or else you're going to have a 'bad time.'"

"Hmm…" Shirou kept his expression carefully neutral. "What do you mean?"

Her smile widened, and Shirou couldn't tell if she was deliberately deflecting or genuinely misinterpreting his question.

"Oh, you know... like in video games? When you don't prepare properly, and the boss fight goes badly?" She tilted her head, red eyes gleaming. "I play them in my spare time. They're quite educational about strategic preparation."

Before Shirou could respond, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing with unnatural precision against the pavement.

Strategy and Preparation…

Those were the two things Shirou knew all too well from his past life as Kiran.

He watched her disappear around the corner, his mind racing.

The Breidablik hummed within him, a lingering acknowledgment of the encounter, filing away the magical signature for future reference.

'Another Master,' Shirou thought, his jaw tightening. 'That makes three magi I've encountered today. Rin, Sakura, and now... whoever that girl was.'

The warning had been clear enough, even wrapped in that strange video game metaphor. The Holy Grail War was beginning, and the Masters were gathering. And she'd somehow identified him as a participant, or at least a potential one.

'Did Kiritsugu leave information about that girl somewhere?' Shirou wondered, resuming his walk home. 'I need to check the notes on the shed later.'

He'd need to search through the items Kiritsugu had left behind. The workshop in the shed. The storage room. Anywhere the old man might have hidden evidence of his involvement in the Fourth Grail War.

But he couldn't act rashly.

The Moonlit World's rules were absolute; revealing oneself too early, attacking without justification, and interfering in established territories... all of these carried severe consequences. The Association didn't tolerate chaos among its own.

And Shirou was already treading a dangerous line, carrying power from an entirely different metaphysical system.

'One step at a time,' Shirou told himself, turning onto his street. 'Gather information. Understand the players. Prepare for what's coming.'

Thus, Shirou resumed his walk back home, and the house came into view, and he saw the warm light spilling from the windows. Taiga's shadow was visible through the shoji screens as she moved around inside.

Shirou took a breath, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. For now, he had dinner to cook and an older sister figure to feed.

The Holy Grail War could wait a few more hours.

---

Fate: Emblem Heroes

Chapter 3: Deep-Dive into the Conflict
​

---

Shirou arrived at the Emiya residence to find Taiga waiting in the living room, arms crossed and foot tapping with exaggerated impatience.

"You certainly took your time escorting Sakura-chan home," Taiga said, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "You know, Shirou, have you ever considered getting a part-time job? You spend so much time doing... whatever it is you do after school."

Shirou thought about the hours he'd spent analyzing Kiritsugu's notes—deciphering magical theory, studying bounded field construction, researching the Holy Grail War's history.

"No, Fuji-nee…" Shirou honestly answered. "But... I'll consider it one day."

"You'd better," Taiga said, though her tone softened slightly. "Even if the fortune Kiritsugu-san left behind is enough for you to live comfortably, it's good to have work experience. It builds character and all that."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shirou replied, hanging his school bag on its hook. "I'll cross that bridge when the time comes."

Taiga seemed satisfied with that answer. She stretched, joints popping audibly.

"Good! Now that we've had our responsible adult conversation…" Taiga exclaimed. "I want chicken karaage for dinner."

Shirou allowed himself a light smile. "I'll cook some for tonight, then."

"Excellent!" Taiga bounced to her feet. "I'll set the table!"

The evening settled into a familiar routine. Shirou moved through the kitchen with practiced efficiency, preparing the chicken, mixing the marinade, and heating the oil to precisely the right temperature. The rhythmic sounds of cooking filled the house: sizzling meat, the clink of utensils, and Taiga humming off-key from the other room.

Shirou silently credited his cooking skills to what he'd learned back at Zenith, where he occasionally cooked for the Heroes he summoned. He remembered that some of these Heroes, like Illyana from World of Tellius, Stahl from the World of Awakening, Effie from the World of Fates, Ingrid from the World of Fódlan, and Timerra from the World of Elyos, have voracious appetites.

And thus, dinner was quiet and comfortable. Taiga demolished her portion with enthusiasm, praising Shirou's cooking between bites. They talked about nothing important; it was mostly about school gossip, weekend plans, and whether the weather would hold.

Overall, it was normal and peaceful, as if the Holy Grail War wasn't about to shatter that peace into fragments.

By the time they finished, darkness had fully settled over Fuyuki. Taiga retired to the guest room she'd essentially claimed as her own, her goodnight muffled by a yawn.

Shirou cleaned the dishes methodically, listening to the house settle into nighttime silence.

Like clockwork, he waited for an opening.

He waited and counted the minutes.

When he was certain Taiga had fallen asleep, which is indicated by her soft snoring barely audible through the walls, Shirou moved.

He crossed the yard quietly, footsteps barely disturbing the gravel. The shed loomed ahead, dark and unassuming to anyone who didn't know what lay within.

Kiritsugu's workshop.

Shirou slid open the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind him with a soft click.

---

Inside the shed, Shirou the Student was discarded.

Here, surrounded by tools and diagrams and the lingering traces of Kiritsugu's magecraft, Shirou the Summoner emerged.

He moved to the nearby drawer, the one he'd organized months ago, cataloging everything Kiritsugu had left behind. Notes on Servant classifications. Diagrams of the Greater Grail system. Historical records of previous Holy Grail Wars. And detailed, painful documentation of the Fourth War's catastrophic conclusion.

Shirou pulled out the most relevant documents, spreading them across the workbench beside the glowing Breidablik.

Servant parameters. Noble Phantasm and stat classifications, such as Rank E to EX, Master-Servant contract theory, and Command Seal mechanics.

But one page made him pause.

A rough, hurried sketch drawn in colored pencils in Kiritsugu's precise hand. A woman with white hair and red eyes, her expression serene yet somehow inhuman. Beside the drawing, a name had been written and then violently scratched out. Deep gouges in the paper, as if Kiritsugu had tried to erase the very memory.

All Shirou could make out was the first letter.

'E.'

He stared at the mutilated name, then at the sketch. Something about those red eyes felt familiar. Uncomfortably familiar.

'The girl from earlier?' Shirou wondered. 'But no… The proportions were wrong. This woman was taller and older, though the resemblance was undeniable.'

He set the page aside carefully, making a mental note to investigate further.

The rest of Kiritsugu's notes were thorough but incomplete, and they were mostly tactical assessments, bounded field theory, and basic familiar construction… All useful information, but...

"Only the basics," Shirou muttered, running a hand through his hair. "The old man taught me the fundamentals, but nothing about…"

He cut himself off. Frustration wouldn't help.

There were still unanswered questions. How exactly did the Greater Grail select Masters? What triggered the summoning catalyst system? Why had Kiritsugu been so adamant that Shirou never learn proper magecraft beyond Structural Analysis and Reinforcement?

And what connection did that white-haired woman have to everything?

Setting those aside, Shirou grabbed the Breidablik from the drawer and, in a moment of impulse, fired a shot at a far-off wall.

As expected, the magical shot seared a small part of the wall, indicating that the divine artifact was still a capable weapon, even if its true purpose was to summon Heroes.

And thus, Shirou tested the Breidablik's forms, re-familiarizing himself with its strengths, weaknesses, and tactical applications.

The Tome Breidablik was divided into three sub-forms: Scarlet, Azure, and Jade.

This mirrored the divine artifact's melee forms closely: Sword, Lance, and Axe.

And through cycling of these forms, Shirou was reminded of the very concept that defines the World of Zenith and the other Fire Emblem worlds as a whole.

The Weapon Triangle.

Sword counters Axe, Lance counters Swords, and Axe counters Lances. Likewise, Red counters Green, Blue counters Red, and Green counters Blue.

Upon being reminded of the Weapon Triangle, Shirou took a breath, forcing the tension from his shoulders.

'Compose yourself,' Shirou thought, echoing advice from another lifetime. 'Panic accomplishes nothing.'

He moved the notes aside and lay down on the workshop floor, the cool wood against his back grounding him. The Breidablik's soft glow illuminated the ceiling beams above.

Meditation.

He remembered the first three Heroes from the World of Zenith that he met as Kiran.

Alfonse, Sharena, and Commander Anna.

Alfonse had taught him this; the Prince of Askr, always calm under pressure, had shown Kiran how to center himself before critical battles.

"Remember, Summoner," Alfonse gently reminded him. "At times, meditating clears the mind and hones the mind on important tasks."

Sometimes, even Sharena, the Princess of Askr, joined in and offered her advice.

"I agree with Alfonse here!" Sharena exclaimed, grinning at him. "Even Mother and Father approved of meditation!"

And then, Shirou remembered the leader of the Order of Heroes, Commander Anna herself.

"A scattered mind makes poor tactical decisions, and poor decisions cost lives," Commander Anna added, insisting on practical applications. "Not doing meditation means losing money. So, don't you forget that, okay?"

Even in important matters, Commander Anna, like the other Annas in various Fire Emblem worlds, tended to emphasize money and profit.

Nonetheless, Alfonse, Sharena, and Commander Anna all had a point.

And so, Shirou closed his eyes, slowing his breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

Let the thoughts come. Acknowledge them. Let them pass.

Rin's controlled magical energy.

Sakura's corrupted aura and bruised wrist.

Zouken's chittering wrongness.

The mysterious girl's warning.

Kiritsugu's scratched-out name.

Each thought rose, was observed, and drifted away like clouds across a mental sky.

The Breidablik's presence pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat…

Steady, eternal, patient.

Shirou's breathing deepened.

'Thank you,' Shirou thought distantly, to three friends from another world who'd taught him this skill. 'Alfonse. Sharena. Anna. I'm still using what you taught me.'

The workshop faded.

His consciousness drifted.

And somewhere between meditation and exhaustion, Shirou fell asleep on the shed floor, the Breidablik's gentle light keeping watch over him like a guardian from ages past.

Outside, Fuyuki City slept, unaware.

Inside, a Summoner rested, preparing for the war to come.

And in the space between worlds, connected by a divine artifact that shouldn't exist, the bonds forged across infinite lifetimes waited to be called upon once more.

Tomorrow would bring answers.

Tonight brought rest.

Both were necessary for what lay ahead.

---

And then, Shirou dreamed.

The world around him shifted, concrete and steel dissolving into something vast and impossible. Sky stretched in every direction, not the limited horizon of Earth, but infinite azure dotted with floating landmasses that defied gravity and reason.

He recognized this place instantly.

Specifically, he was in the Aether Raids.

Floating islands suspended in the void, each one a carefully constructed battlefield. Structures materialized across the terrain: Heavy Traps positioned at chokepoints, Bolt Traps crackling with stored lightning, Catapults ready to launch defenders across impossible distances, Bolt Towers humming with defensive energy.

From what Shirou remembered, Aether Raids were combat exercises where Heroes tested themselves not just against each other, but against the environment itself, such as reactive tiles, strategic positioning, and endless tactical permutations.

"I haven't dreamed of this place in years," Shirou murmured, his voice echoing strangely in the dreamscape.

He turned, taking in more details. The islands stretched endlessly, each one hosting different configurations—some with defensive fortifications, others with aggressive layouts designed to punish intruders.

And scattered across the nearest island stood silhouetted statues.

Heroes.

Shirou moved closer, recognition sparking as he identified familiar shapes.

A figure with a legendary sword raised high.

A daintily-looking woman with a lance whose presence invokes a light chill within Shirou.

Another axe-mounted warrior on what could only be a wyvern.

A pair standing back-to-back, their Creator Swords crossed in perfect symmetry.

Some he knew immediately; they're the Heroes whose contracts were forged through countless battles, bonds deepened through shared victory and loss.

Others remained indistinct, their features obscured. Important, somehow. He could feel it. Heroes he would need, even if he couldn't yet remember their names or faces.

'Later,' Shirou intoned. 'They'll be important later.'

Shirou looked up.

Yggdrasill, the World Tree.

The eponymous tree dominated the sky, its massive trunk rising from depths unknown, branches spreading across impossible distances to connect realms that should never touch. Light filtered through its canopy, not sunlight exactly, but something purer. Yggdrasill emitted divine radiance that nourished all worlds connected to its roots.

The sight filled him with awe, just as it had the first time Commander Anna had shown him this place. When Commander Anna introduced him to the Aether Raids and the Yggdrasill Altar, where he conducted Hero Summons, it was proof that infinite worlds existed, all bound together by this single, eternal tree.

Then he sensed her.

Shirou turned.

A woman stood before him, appearing as if she'd always been there. She was in her armored dress, styled like a protective plate but flowing like silk. She was regal in a way that transcended mere appearance.

But her face...

Her face was obscured. Not hidden, exactly. Just... undefined, as if the dream couldn't quite capture her features, or perhaps wasn't meant to yet.

She was speaking.

Shirou could see her lips moving, could sense the importance of whatever she was saying. Urgent words. Necessary words. Instructions, warnings, or perhaps a simple greeting.

But he couldn't hear them.

All he could focus on was the radiance.

The woman glowed, not with physical light, but with something deeper. Her presence invoked authority and nobility. It was an ancient power that recognized him, called to him, resonated with the Breidablik sleeping in his soul.

And then, the woman reached out her right hand.

Her fingers extended toward him, palm open. An offering. An invitation. As if she wanted to share that radiance with him, to forge a connection that transcended dream and reality.

Shirou's hand began to rise…

---

Suddenly, he woke up with a gasp.

The shed's ceiling greeted him instead of Yggdrasill's branches. Cool wood pressed against his back instead of floating platforms, and silence replaced the dream's ethereal ambiance.

Shirou sat up slowly, his heart still racing from the vividness of it all.

He glanced at the clock mounted on the workshop wall.

4:00 AM.

"I slept in the shed," Shirou muttered, rubbing his face.

His neck was stiff from the awkward position, and his school uniform was wrinkled beyond salvation.

But the dream lingered.

The woman in blue, her outstretched hand, and the radiance that had called to something fundamental in his being.

Resting on the workbench where he'd left it, the Breidablik pulsed once.

Shirou could sense the divine artifact being warmer than before.

But his current thoughts lingered on the woman in his dream.

'Who was she?' Shirou wondered, staring at the divine artifact. 'Is she someone from my past, as Kiran? Or... someone I haven't met yet?'

The dream felt significant, prophetic even.

But for now, that woman remained a mystery.

Shirou stood, joints protesting. He had perhaps an hour before Taiga woke up, and it was enough time to sneak back inside, shower, and pretend he'd slept in his actual bed.

He dismissed the Breidablik with a thought, watching it dissolve into light.

Then he unlocked the shed door and stepped into the cold morning air.

He had to resume a form of normalcy.

And so, Shirou the Summoner set that dream aside for now, as he had to resume his other life as Shirou the Student.