Her name is Irisviel Emiya. Without a doubt, she is the most beautiful woman I've ever met- that I ever will meet.

Several months have now passed since that night. The night fraught with terror, suspense, mystery, and- ultimately- joy. Not long after we arrived at the hospital, the white-haired woman, Irisviel Emiya, extended an offer to me. She asked if I would like to be adopted by her, seeing as how both my parents were gone. I couldn't say yes fast enough.

Things looked bleak when she first took me in, considering we had no place to live. However, our situation quickly improved once an old friend of her late husband, Taiga Fujimura, stepped in and helped us.

We now live in a surprisingly large and rustic mansion in the northern side of Miyama Town. Even though we still remain short on funds, and our new life is only just starting, everything feels as though it's right, and I find myself at ease. Truly, a stark contrast to the events that unfolded merely a few months ago.

Everything that transpired on that night seems so scary and surreal, looking back on it. As if it was all just a bad nightmare. If I didn't have the old, sunken blade that I discovered in the depths of the Mion river as proof, I probably would've convinced myself by now that it was just a figment of my imagination.

I've tried to discuss it with her, with Irisviel. The corpse of the giant beast, the twisted apparitions I saw, and the silver string which reeled me up before she resuscitated me. Every time, she just assures me that it must've been my mind playing tricks on me. After all, I had recently suffered severe trauma and terror at the travesty that befell my old home. Eventually, I quit questioning her about it. Honestly, I was almost convinced by her words. However… one thing always reminds me that what took place, in the dark and murky trench of that river, really happened. The scrap of metal; the blade.

The old blade now serves as a makeshift pocketknife for me. It comes in handy when I go out to play in the woods and when I go cutting wildflowers around the neighborhood to make simple bouquets as gifts for Irisviel. Surprisingly, the flat of the blade is still quite sharp, so I have to take care not to cut myself whenever I use it. Occasionally, I will even go into the old dojo within our house and clumsily swing the object around while pretending I'm a knight or a samurai. It's silly, I know, but for whatever reason, it feels good to do so.

I reflect on all the uses that the blade, which has pretty much become an everyday carry-on for me, has while sitting in our dining room. I sit at the low mahogany table while staring down at the blade and marveling at how it, so easily and suddenly, slipped into my life and became a staple of it. I think I'll go practice swinging with it after lunch today… or maybe I should go and pick some flowers for Irisviel again? It has been a while since I've given her any….

"Hmm…" I hum while debating how I should spend my evening. Oh, I know! I'll just do the thing again.

I place the sliver of metal on the center of the wooden table, in preparation to do the "thing" I mentioned. I gently place my left forefinger on the middle of the blade, careful to avoid the sharp edge, before using my free hand to flick the base of the metal tang. The familiar, light humming noise rings out and an ever-so-subtle vibration courses up my finger as the blade begins to spin atop the center of the table. I quickly remove my finger pressing down on the middle, allowing it to twirl freely.

Like a top, the metal spins and spins before inevitably slowing down and stopping. I follow the direction that the tip of the, now still, blade points. It points in the direction that the dojo rests, on the opposite end of the property.

"I guess I'm going to play in the dojo today." I state, with certainty, while reclaiming my blade from the center of the table.

The little ritual I just conducted where I spun my knife may have seemed bizarre and pointless, but there was indeed a purpose to it. You see, after the events that took place in the river, where the scrap of metal brought upon that scary vision and somehow tugged me across the riverbed towards safety, I was constantly trying to solve the riddle behind those mystical qualities.

I would flick it around and use magic words such as "abracadabra" to try and recreate the sparks of red energy or the conjuring of the bloody lines. I would lie still on the floor and wait, sometimes hours on end, for the blade to suddenly come to life and begin flying me up in the air. However, I was never able to recreate what took place that night, no matter what I tried. Just as I'd begun to convince myself that it wasn't a magic knife and instead a hunk of junk, something occurred that restored my faith in it.

One day, not long after we began living in this house, I was looking for something. I had lost a key to the front door, a spare given to me by Irisviel. I spent the entire day frantically looking for it, terrified by the thought I've lost something entrusted to me by her. I searched and searched, turning the whole house upside down. Eventually, I went to the dining room, where Irisviel was setting the table for dinner, to shamefully tell her I'd lost it.

Teary-eyed, I entered the room. As I was approaching the table, somehow, I tripped and tumbled onto the floor. The old knife slipped out my pocket as I fell and clattered atop the floor. Irisviel quickly set the plate she was carrying down and rushed to my side.

While she was making certain I was alright, my attention fell to the knife that slipped away from me, which I'd almost forgotten I was even still carrying. The knife had flung across the room farther than I expected. It rested atop the floor, merely a couple feet away from our TV stand- which has yet to gain a television to adorn it.

Once Irisviel was sure that I'm fine, she returned to preparing our meal. I quickly crossed the room and reached to reclaim my knife, but hesitated. The knife laid in such a position that the tip of the blade pointed towards the table, underneath it. I don't know what compelled me to do so, but before picking it up, I crouched down and peeked beneath the wooden stand. To my surprise, the object I'd spent all day looking for rested just under the edge of the stand, within the darkness casted by its shadow. The key to the front door.

I paid the incident little mind. I was much more preoccupied being overjoyed that I found the key that I lost. I merely thought of it as a lucky coincidence; that the mysterious, bladed object directed me right to where it was. However, the event did ensure one thing. It recaptured my interest in the scrap of metal and made me far more acute of it.

It didn't take long after the experience for me to discover an oddity about the blade. Sometimes when I would be lounging about the house, I'd find myself growing hungry or thirsty. In preparation to go get a snack or drink, I would move to grab my knife from wherever I sat it down… only to notice something. The tip of the blade would be pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Obviously, I at first didn't think anything of it. I probably didn't even notice it the first handful of times it happened. However, one eventually grows suspicious of the premise that they placed an object pointing in a certain, consistent direction every single time they set it down.

There are other times when I would wake in the morning and find the blade on my nightstand, directing me towards the bathroom. Or the occasions when I would go bug hunting and accidentally drop it while climbing a tree, only to find it on the ground pointing at a stone or decaying log that, when flipped, unveiled a variety of beetles and crawlers of which I'd never encountered before.

In time, I found myself purposefully setting the knife in a certain direction, making a mental note of how it's positioned, and coming back later to find it had rotated. I would dedicate hours, sometimes even an entire day, watching the knife and waiting for it to move on its own. Never did it budge as I viewed it. Or, perhaps, I was impatient and didn't wait long enough to see the movement. It's even possible that the blade was moving the entire time, only so subtly that I couldn't realize it. Regardless, I've yet to witness it move with my own eyes.

Setting aside the mystery of it moving on its own, there was still the matter of what goal it was trying to achieve by doing so. That goal being, to try and point something out to me- to indicate something.

I couldn't really decipher what its intention was in unveiling the lost key, pointing to the kitchen when I was hungry or thirsty, directing me to the bathroom as soon as I woke in the morning, and discovering a goldmine of rare bugs when I went out looking for them. It was only after thinking about what the common denominator between all these instances was that I realized what the decrepit knife must've been doing. Pointing in the direction of what I desire.

There seems to be limitations, or rather rules, to how this little parlor trick works. It appears to be capable of autonomously directing me to what I'm craving, but it is incapable of doing so while I can perceive it. It also takes time for it to do so on its own, and the desire has to be pretty strong for it to even turn by itself at all. However, there is a workaround to this. For whatever reason, if I am to toss it up in the air and let it fall to the ground, spin it like a top, or even just hurl it at the dirt for it to tumble about, it will end by lying still and pointing in the direction of what I want. Out of these methods, the spinning of the blade seems to produce the most accurate results.

The other stipulation is that it's sometimes hard to single out the specific thing I'm trying to find. If, say, I want to find where Irisviel is hiding the cookie jar, the most pressing matter and highest priority in my mind must be that cookie jar. For example, if I simultaneously have to use the toilet, or if I happen to be far thirstier than I am hungry, the blade will point to the bathroom or the sink in the kitchen. It prioritizes what the strongest, most prominent desire in my head is, whether I'm conscious of it or not.

Other than these conditions, there seems to be no limit to the capacity of its snooping potential. I've even once set off to search around town, walking around with only the desire of "finding buried treasure", to eventually arrive at the bank of the Miongawa river (much to my displeasure). After a tedious time spent pinpointing the exact spot, I dug up a mollusk in the silt on the edge of the river. I climbed out of the river and onto the shore, wet and muddy, and pried the shellfish open with the knife, unveiling a silver bead within the soft flesh inside. I've been saving that pearl for a rainy day, intending it as a present for Irisviel.

In short, the blade does indeed seem to be magical. It may no longer create those red lines or tow my body around, but it does possess this new, helpful ability. Regardless, it has reassured me that there is some other-worldly quality about it.

While reminiscing in awe about the knife's dual-purpose as a magic compass, I feel the urge to try it again. I quickly place it down on the table and spin it, eager to see if it will direct me to the dojo once more. As soon as the blade has begun twirling, I hear footsteps approaching the doorway.

"*yaaaawn* Mm… Oh, Shirou?" I immediately recognize the voice as the other inhabitant who shares this home with me; Irisviel. I look over my shoulder to see her walking into the room, still in her pajamas and with sleepy eyes. "I shouldn't be surprised you're already up. *yawn* You always have so much energy."

"Um, actually… it's past noon." I sheepishly respond. Her tired eyes widen in surprise at this revelation.

"Ehhh?!" she whines. "Darn it… Oh! Um, wait just one sec and I'll whip up some breakfast! …Or, I guess it would be lunch now."

She rushes past the table and hurries into the kitchen, flicking the light on as she passes. I watch her for a moment as she bustles about the kitchen, feeling embarrassed by the fact that she's already comfortable enough around me to be walking throughout the house in her semi-transparent nightgown.

I turn my attention back to the spinning knife, as I hear its whirring slow down. I'm surprised to see that it's not affixed towards the dojo, as it was before. I lift my gaze to the left, following the direction it's pointing. A blush immediately stains my cheeks as I see what it's now directing me to. Irisviel. Yeah. More often than not, it tends to direct me towards her. I pull the object from the table and tuck it away into my pocket, wishing my embarrassment would subside.

Irisviel continues to toil in the kitchen and cook whatever it is she intends for breakfast. Even from where I'm sitting in the dining room, I can see the dark circles under her eyes, telling me just how tired she is. My earlier embarrassment vanishes and becomes replaced with sadness. Her sleep must've been filled with night terrors once again. I can sympathize with her in that regard, as I've had several recurring nightmares ever since the Fuyuki fire.

"Alright Shirou!" Irisviel's energetic voice draws my attention back to her. She exits the kitchen, holding a plate of food. "Breakfast is served!"

She sets the plate in front of me along with a glass of water. The dish consists of a single egg, a slice of white bread, and some stir-fried bean sprouts. I look up at her in confusion.

"Where's yours?" I ask. She seems a bit taken aback by my question.

"I-I'm not that hungry. I was actually wanting to go sleep some more- I'll eat when I get back up." A pang of guilt strikes my heart, as I realize the real reason why she's not eating. She seems to notice that I've noticed and quickly continues. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me and eat up."

After a quick hug and a head pat, she exits the room. I do as she says and begin slowly eating the dish. …There's no seasoning.

After finishing the meager meal, I clean up the table and wash the dishes. I try my hardest not to think of our potential financial problem as I dry the plate off and set it back in the cabinet. I decide that I should go to the dojo once I'm finished.

Coincidentally, in order to reach the hall leading to the dojo, I have to pass by Irisviel's bedroom. It dawns on me that this might've been my actual destination as I slowly approach the sliding door belonging to her room. I notice my pace subconsciously slow down as I pass, until I stop as I'm right in front of it. No, don't bother her, Shirou. Let her rest; we'll spend time with her later.

I force myself to turn away from the door. Before I can take my first step however, I hear something within her room that catches my attention. I quickly press the side of my head against the door, just to double-check my ears weren't deceiving me. Then, my suspicions are confirmed as I hear the sound again; quiet sobbing.

I gently crack the door open, careful not to let it creak. It's hard to see inside the room with the lights being off, but the dim illumination from the curtained window allows me to make out Irisviel's figure curled up beneath the covers. Her covered body occasionally trembles as she cries. I can only stomach seeing her like that for so long before I have to tear my gaze away and shut the door. I quietly press my forehead against the door and grit my teeth, fighting against the tears clawing to get out of my shut eyes. I wish… I wish she could be happy.

This is not the first time she's shut herself within her room to cry. Every so often she gets overwhelmed for some reason and let's the tears flow. She normally tries to keep it hidden or only do it when I'm not around, but there was one time…

Not long after she adopted me and we moved in together, about a week after, she told me that there was urgent business she had to attend to one day, out of the blue. I obviously asked her what she meant and where she was going, but she was incredibly stubborn on the topic, refusing to let me know anything. I finally managed to at least squeeze out the location of where she was going, after I was nearly in tears out of concern for her. All she disclosed to me is that she was going to look for something in the forest on the western outskirts of Fuyuki.

I begged to go with her, but it ultimately ended with me sitting home alone while she went out on her excursion. It wasn't until late in the night, after my worry for where she is reached its peak, that she finally returned. She returned frazzled and teary-eyed. It was the first time I'd ever seen her composure genuinely broken. She made no effort to hide her distress and tears, and instead sought consolation from me. She held me in an unyielding embrace while she sobbed and sobbed in her bed.

She only said one thing that gave me any indication as to what in the world happened: "I couldn't see her. They wouldn't let me see her. I can't see her." That's it. Three times she stated that she was unable to see "her", and nothing more. After that night she never brought it up again and I eventually stopped asking her, as it seemed to greatly pain her when I touched the subject.

Compared to how sorrowful she was back then; this little cry session seems like nothing. However, seeing her shed tears cuts through me like a knife, no matter how many or how few. I pull myself away from her door and begin walking aimlessly down the hallway.

My troubled mind begins to think of other worrying things, not just her sadness. Like the fact that her appetite seems to grow smaller with every passing day. Could it really just be because of our small budget? Our lack of food? Or perhaps how she always seems to be tired- how she's constantly taking naps, even after a full night's sleep. Could it really just be because of nightmares? The premise that something- something other than depression- could be ailing her causes a dreaded, fearful sensation to spread throughout me. I recall another instance, merely a handful of weeks ago…

Irisviel had been sluggish for the entirety of the morning. It's not something that would ordinarily strike me as unusual, however there was something off about her this time. She would answer me in short, choppy responses, her eyes looked distant and blurry, her face burned bright red, and her legs and hands almost appeared to quiver as she moved or walked. I was worried, obviously, but she just continued to insist she was fine no matter how many times I asked. She insisted, until she collapsed on the floor, midsentence of telling me something.

Through great effort, I managed to get her on the bed. Her body was hot as a furnace, and beads of sweat dappled her skin that were cold to the touch. She regained clarity a short while after I draped a damp rag over her forehead. I wanted to call for help, I wanted to get her put into a hospital. However, she relentlessly assured me that she would be fine, that it's just something that happens from time-to-time. Then, after sitting next to her through a prolonged silence, she asked me something that scared me.

"Shirou…? You have no idea how happy your reliability makes me. It ensures me you're perfectly capable of independence. So, if I… if one day I disappeared, would you be alright?"

Teary-eyed, and with a start, I fearfully asked her what in the world she was trying to say. However, I received no response. She had dozed off peacefully, a smile on her face.

What am I going to do? Alongside my sadness, I feel a growing anger directed towards myself. It's an anger festering from the helplessness within me. I wish I could fix whatever's troubling her…

I reach the backdoor and open it so that I can exit into the backyard. The grass covering our yard shivers slightly in the wake of a cool breeze. I wish I could mend her broken heart. I wish I could fix whatever's wrong. I just want… to protect the smile I saw back then, for the rest of her life.

I hear what sounds like thunder from above, despite there not being a single cloud in the sky. Alongside this, I feel something rustling in my pocket. I quickly stick my hand in and wrap my fingers around the only thing inside; my knife. As I extract it from my pocket, I swear I see a red crackle course along the blade for a split-second. I lift the object in front of me, resting on my open palm. Immediately, the blade turns, of its own volition, until it eventually lies still. The tip no longer points to the dojo, which only rests about 20 feet away from me. No, it points to the fence separating the yard from the street out front. I hesitate for a moment, still worrying about Irisviel's predicament, before deciding I should see what exactly the blade is pointing me towards.

I walk for what feels like an hour, until I arrive at the train station. I look around with the knife for a while, trying to figure out what I'm looking for, until I realize it's prompting me to board the train. I continue to play along, and get on right before it leaves.

I ride in silence for a while, waiting for the blade to instruct me on what to do next. It doesn't come to life until we come up on one of the farthest stops from where we initially boarded; the station near the Mion river.

I get off and follow the knife's point to the Fuyuki bridge. I grow wary because of the trauma I recently experience on this very bridge, but eventually I muster my courage and tread onward along the bridge's walkway.

After finally crossing the river, I continue following the incessant directions. I pass street after street, house after house, building after building. Eventually, once I walk past a Church on a hill and a nearby graveyard, I find myself at the edge of the city, at the forest.

Both of my feet ache from the distance I've traveled, and the skies have begun to darken from the day nearing its end and the sudden mass of clouds beginning to form. I expect whatever I've been looking for to be here, but I'm disappointed when the blade slightly adjusts its direction on my open palm, prompting me to enter the woods. Despite being exhausted, despite not wanting to continue on, I force myself to keep going, knowing I've come too far to stop now. I must see what it's brought me out here for. What is it that I desire so far out here?

I walk for a good while throughout the forest. At first there was something that somewhat resembled a road, but I've long since lost any trace of a trail or path. Surprisingly, as I walk deeper, the trees seem to be further spread apart, and a few clearings appear here and there.

The sudden miasma of clouds that appeared earlier have now become a deep, dark shade and they occasionally light up from the flashes of thunder. I try to ignore it, feeling too determined on the task at hand.

After walking only a short while longer, the blade suddenly becomes inanimate once more, no longer tugging or pointing in directions of its own volition. I grow fearful. I stop in a small clearing among the trees and hold the blade up in the air, on top of my open palm. I wait and wait, but the object doesn't so much as budge.

I approach the nearest tree and lower myself to sit at its trunk before placing the blade atop the dirt and giving it a spin. After spinning, it stops and points towards my immediate right. Before grabbing it and following its instructions, I grow suspicious and twirl it one more time. Once it stops, it lies pointing in the complete opposite direction.

I begin to panic and start spinning it repeatedly, finding that it points in a different direction every time. W-Why isn't it working?! Where is the thing I'm supposed to find? I suddenly realize that I blindly followed the blade, making no mental notes of where I went nor where I came from. I have no idea how to get back either!

I give up on the knife and quickly grapple onto the tree I was sitting under before climbing up. I climb up branch after branch until I reach a height that puts me above the tops of the other trees. Due to how far in the woods I am, and from the cloudy sky, I can't tell where I am, or what direction the city is.

"Oh no…" I mutter nervously.

I make my way down the tree and to the ground again. I lean against its trunk and begin to ponder the situation I'm in and what I can do. My earlier initiative, of finding whatever the knife was directing me to, has all but left my mind completely at this point.

It seems like the blade sent me on a complete wild goose chase. And, unless it starts working again, I can't find my way back to the city, or else I'd risk getting even deeper into the forest, even more lost. I begin cursing myself for following it off on a whim, even knowing about its seemingly magical qualities. What in the world am I going to do when Irisviel wakes up and I'm not there?

Not long after I begin to start worrying about Irisviel, something across the clearing catches my eye. A flash of pink floats through the air, being carried along by the wind. I skew my brow in confusion, not knowing what it is. After staring at it for a moment, as it flutters in the breeze, I make it out as what appears to be a flower. A… cherry blossom? Are my eyes deceiving me?

Genuinely thinking this might be the case, I rub both my eyes and take another look at the object flying through the air. Again, I see a cherry blossom being forcefully taken for a ride in the gale. What's it doing all the way out here? At this time of year, no less? Having my interest get captured by it, I find myself beginning to walk after it. The walking soon turns into a jog as I realize how fast it's being carried away.

I follow it all the way to the edge of the clearing, where it gets caught up in one of the branches above. I don't waste any time before climbing up, not wanting to miss the chance to grab it before the wind sweeps it away again. I climb and climb until I reach the branch directly below the one holding the flower.

I carefully get a footing on the branch and slowly stand up, so that I can reach to the branch above. Unfortunately, the spacing between these are just far enough apart to where I can't reach. I ponder for a moment on what to do before deciding I'll use something to unlodge the flower and catch it as it falls. I reach into my pocket. What better to use than the thing that drug me out here in the first place?

I take aim and toss the knife up, hitting the flower perfectly. They both fall from the branch, and I grab the flower as it flutters down, letting the blade descend to the ground below. I stand on the branch for a moment, analyzing the object I just acquired. It… really is a flower. How bizarre.

I descend the branches before taking footing on the ground yet again. Well, that was interesting I suppose. However, it still doesn't really help my situation much. I lean down to reclaim my knife from the ground, where it fell. As I'm reaching down, I hear something. From behind me, in the clearing, I hear footsteps approaching me and… ragged breathing?

At this point, I realize what's about to happen. This is the memory of when I met the mage, Merlin. The memory that I recall being where he gave me the arrow. However, I now know that that was just a fabrication, it never really happened. Not only that… but Merlin specifically told me we never even met in the first place.

I turn as I hear the slow footsteps nearly upon me. I turn and face him.

I expect to see the colorful and vibrant mage of flowers, even knowing full-well that he won't be there. What I actually see couldn't be farther from my expectation.

The sound of ragged breathing fades into obscurity, until it's gone without a trace, as if it never existed. The already cloudy sky dissipates like paint into water, unveiling an image peppered with pitch-black clouds, completely blanketing the sky above. The illusion shatters.

I finally allow my gaze to rest upon what is immediately in front of me. Standing only a couple feet away, at six feet tall, is the source of the footsteps. A man. It's hard to see anything with how dark it now is, but I can see, or rather feel, a cold gaze digging into me.

"I believe" the man suddenly begins, in a rough, emotionless voice "that belongs to me?"

I look at him, in fearful confusion, for a moment, until I realize he must be referring to that flower. I lower my gaze to the hand clutching the flower. Only, it's not a flower at all. What I'm holding, the thing I claimed from the tree just now, is a scrap of parchment. I hand it over to him, speechless. I notice strange lettering on it, what appears to be some type of cuneiform, before he tucks it away beneath his coat.

"Thanks are in order, I suppose." The man states, causing my attention to refocus on him. "Those notes are very important to me. I would've been in quite the predicament had I not reclaimed them after the wind carried them off."

"I-I…" I stutter, unsure of what to say. The situation has me somewhat petrified out of fear and confusion.

The mysterious man doesn't strike me at all as a woodsman or hiker, which begs the question of why he's out here in the middle of nowhere with me. He's quite tall and, despite his frame being slender, I can tell he's fairly muscular. His choice of clothing consists of a black hoodie, and matching dark jeans, with a simplistic tee beneath. One thing in particular that catches my eye is the Buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his left wrist as an impromptu bracelet. This would lead me to believe that maybe he's associated with the Church I came across right before entering the woods. No, that was a Christian chapel. He wouldn't be toting Buddhist beads if he came from there.

"Hmm." He hums, his shadowed gaze tensing as he stares inquisitively at me. "Do we know each other? You seem somewhat familiar."

His question shocks me, as I have no recollection of meeting a man such as himself. I look more closely at his face, just to be sure. His raven-black hair is held back in a ponytail, making it easy to discern his facial features. His face is soft and devoid of wrinkles or damage, pairing with his clothing style to tell me he's a young man, possibly in his teens. However, something about him makes that hard to believe. His eyes.

His eyes, shadowed by his brows, are wretchedly sunken and not entirely visible, giving the air that he indeed has nothing but empty sockets where they should be. That isn't the case, though, as I can barely make out their forms beneath the shadowy veil. They stare at me, yet at the same time they don't. They appear to stare past me at something far away. They're weathered and old, telling me that this man has seen and experienced many trials and tribulations. Yet, at the same time, they're completely and terribly empty.

Yes, I've definitely never seen this man in my life. I'm positive that I would remember if that was the case. I decide to tell him so.

"I, uh… I-"

"No, nevermind." He interrupts me. "I've never met you before, my mistake." He says it with such certainty that I simply nod in response.

"What…" I begin, mustering my courage to actually converse with him "what are you doing out here?"

"I don't plan on staying here very long." He immediately answers. "You could say I'm just passing through. On my way out of Fuyuki. I'd gotten a tip that something pretty interesting unfolded here recently, but it's for naught. There's nothing of use to me here- this city is only riddled with destruction and curses around every corner-"

He stops himself and shakes his head.

"Though," he continues "I'm sure you don't want to hear me prattle on about that. I suppose I should reward you in some way for reclaiming my notes? Hmm, let's see…"

He rubs his chin, seemingly deep in thought. Almost everything about this guy screams danger and bad vibes, so I don't think I want to stick around for whatever his reward is.

"Th-That's fine, you really don't have to-"

"Ah, I know." He declares, interrupting me. "Would you care for a fortune reading?" I stare at him in confusion.

"You're a fortune teller?" I ask, doubtfully.

"For the sake of time, yes. We'll say I'm a fortune teller."

Feeling very sketched out, I lower my gaze to my feet. I need to get my hands on the knife, in case this guy is as dangerous as he's letting on. My eyes locate the knife, by my left shoe, and… it's pointing directly at the guy in front of me. I lift my gaze back to him, to see his eyes staring at me inquisitively as he waits for my answer. Is it… a coincidence?

"I…" I begin, unsure of what to do.

"Come now." The man states, encouragingly. "Wouldn't you like to learn who you truly are?"

"…ok."

I stand, even closer than before, in front of the man. Both of my hands now rest within the grips of his own, with each of his thumbs pressing against my palms. His eyes are closed, and his face filled with concentration.

I begin to reflect on the absurdity of what I'm doing. Standing out here, beneath the progressively worsening storm in the sky, with a complete stranger who is about to tell my fortune. All because I followed a random direction my knife led me to.

"I see…" The man suddenly states, recapturing my attention. "I see confusion and conflict within you. Never before have I witnessed this… Out of all the true personas I have discerned within people, yours is by far the most mystifying. Something within you is interfering; trying to change who you are. It has almost warped you completely, almost changed you down to your core, however… there's still something buried beneath."

I stare at him in confusion. His words make no sense to me. I thought I'd be getting the whole "you'll meet your true love in three years and get married with four children" spiel. However, this man is talking about things that go completely over my head. And, honestly, I feel a strange sensation ever since he began his reading; as if I really am being looked into and analyzed.

"Um, what is-"

"Sword." He sternly states, randomly. Despite not knowing what he means, I feel a bizarre tingle course throughout me upon his uttering of the word. "Sword; that is what your being is trying to convey to me, the agenda it's trying to go with."

I open my mouth to, again, attempt to question what he means.

"However!" He continues, before I can even say a single word. "That is just a farce. It is not truly your core, just a pseudonym. No, what you truly are… is…"

He drifts off while his eyes shut tighter and his face tenses up in even deeper concentration. I find myself dead-silent, anxiously waiting what he's about to say. Despite not even understanding what's happening, what he's saying.

"It is hard to discern," he finally continues "but… it is Arrow? No! No, it's… Archery?... Archer? No, no. It's closer, but not. What it is, is something even more convoluted- something even more obscure, with a broader and more all-encompassing sense."

He falls to silence again. I find myself growing more invested in whatever it is that he's trying to figure out. All while growing more uncomfortable from his tightening grip on my hand and the dark skies beginning to light up in various spots from the rolling thunder.

Suddenly, his eyes open.

"The Concept of Archer." He mutters, releasing my hands from his grip. Finally, I can no longer contain myself.

"What in the world are you talking about?! Can I get an explanation on all of that mumbo jumbo?"

I silently remind myself after that outburst that I shouldn't get angry and shout at him. This man very well could still be out for my life. However, he seems unfazed by my shouting and instead is deep in thought.

"The Concept of Archer." He states once again. "It is who you are, the entirety of your being. It is where you came from, and where you will return to. From whence you originate."

"From where I… originate?" I question, still not fully understanding. He nods.

"I must admit, never have I witnessed one such as it. I can't tell whether it is full of substance or painfully lacking in it. If it's of poor quality or among the best. One thing I know for certain, however, is that it is under constant assault, almost completely overtaken."

"W-What do you mean? Are you referring to the Sword?" He nods at my question once more.

"A foreign interference within you is altering your core." He begins. "Your mind, body, and spirit are all being led to believe your origin is of Sword. In time, you will be completely fooled and corralled into the fraudulent origin."

"I-I can't fully grasp what you're trying to convey, but it sounds bad. What will happen if it transforms to 'Sword'?" He scoffs at my question.

"It is my theory that one cannot truly change who they really are." He explains. "One cannot completely erase or alter their origin, for it is where they originate from, what dictates their entire life… If one were to allow such a thing to transpire, it may do a number of things. It may offer a temporary relief, a coping mechanism, it may give you power, stability, whatever you want to call it, but in the end… they will end up at a destination that's not quite where they're needed to be and not quite where they want to be. More often than not, this result is a tragic and grave end."

He notices my lost expression before continuing to clarify.

"Simply put, even if you follow the path of 'Sword', you will not be able to escape the 'Concept Archer'. In the end, in some form, you will be the 'Concept Archer'… and, most likely, your existence will be confusing and traumatic."

He's still talking of things that are beyond me. Even in his simplified explanation, I've somehow only gotten more confused. He inevitably picks up on this, sighs, and gives it another shot.

"Think of it this way:" he continues "one who realizes who they truly are and adheres to that path will find the 'true ending'. One who ignores who they are, or remains blissfully unaware, will find the 'good ending'. Finally, one who tries to change who they are will arrive at the 'bad ending'." This explanation manages to instill some understanding within me.

"I see. From what you've said, then, I'm currently on the 'bad ending' route." I state, disappointedly.

"Most likely, yes."

"Then… how do I stop 'Sword' from influencing me?"

The sky continues to crackle malevolently as the blowing wind begins to grow in force, causing the trees to sway slightly. Occasional droplets moisten my skin as a very slight drizzle begins to fall. The man, after pondering my question for a moment, responds.

"I am incapable of stopping whatever alien force is causing the change to 'Sword' within you. However… there is one other method at my disposal that can prevent you from becoming it."

"What?"

He leans down to me, putting his face mere inches from mine. The sudden confrontation scares me, nearly making me jump back in surprise. His empty eyes now seem to have filled with some emotion; excitement.

"You can choose the true ending…" He states. "Awaken to your Origin. Your true Origin."

"I- I don't…" Fear fills my body. I'm completely possessed by the urge to turn and run away, leaving both him and the blade that led me to him behind. I understand nothing this man is trying to tell me, or even if he's being truthful.

I take a shaky step behind me, feeling my back press against the trunk of the tree. I- I want to run. More than anything, I want to escape. But… Something within me is refusing to allow me to flee. It's the words he spoke to me, I realize. His mentioning of both the "bad ending" and the "true ending".

"What is your name, young one?" The man asks, standing up straight.

"Shirou…" I feebly respond. "Shirou Emiya."

"Are you interested in casting aside the shell of Shirou Emiya," the man begins, offering his hand to me "and taking your first step on the path towards 'Archer'?"

Within his outstretched hand, positioned right in front of my face, is a round capsule colored a dark crimson. I'm immediately reminded of the beautiful, red irises of Irisviel's eyes as I stare into the little pill. Irisviel. Would this "true ending"- would it help to keep her safe…? To protect the smile I saw that day? My hand lifts up and begins gravitating towards his.

"Will it… help me protect the one I love?"

My question evokes a victorious smile from the man. He nods his head as I reach towards his palm.

"Yes, indeed." He assures me. "Matter of fact, I'd dare say this is the only way to save whom you love. Only by embracing who you are can you hope to reach the apex of yourself. From there, lies your best chance of safeguarding that person."

Again, his words allude me. However, I somehow get the sense that he is being truthful in everything he's saying. Needless to say, I'm sure there's some catch to this. Like a wish from a genie, there will no doubt be a consequence from this, but… But. I won't let myself think of that aspect. If it can save Irisviel, it doesn't matter what happens to me.

I pinch the capsule between my fingers, just as the drizzling rain slowly evolves into a steady downpour. Without thinking any further, I pop the crimson pill into my mouth, debating no longer. Before swallowing it, as I swish it around my mouth, I decide I should probably ask him something else.

"By the way, what's the purpose of the pill? What's in it?"

His face remains solemn and unresponsive, only his eyes offering any indication as to what he's thinking. A glimmer of excitement still sparkles within them. He retracts his right hand, the one that offered me the pill, and pulls it to his side before coiling back. The open hand folds shut as his fingers converge into a fist.

"Mercury." He states.

A bolt of lighting shatters the sky above, accompanied by a booming clap of thunder. I rise into the air, off of my feet, as a force collides into my lower jaw and upheaves me. The man struck me from below with an uppercut, with no warning.

The pill, which had been nestled between my molars, has its glass encasing shattered as a result of my teeth snapping shut from the powerful blow. The liquid gushes, free from its prison, and coats the inside of my mouth. Wait. Mercury?! He said it's-

Just as I attempt to open my mouth and spit the substance out, all while still lifted off my feet by the knuckles digging into my jaw, his hand darts from my chin and onto my face. His hand clasps around my mouth, before my lips can even budge slightly apart. The fingers fasten onto my face, tightening his grip like a vice.

"Well," he suddenly continues, causing my eyes to look down at his ever-calm face in terror "give or take. There's a few accompanying substances."

I quickly lift my hands and grab his sleeve. I tug and scratch and strike at the arm holding me in the air, but it stays as firm and unmoving as a log. At this point, I've begun to swallow some of the mercury-laced fluid down my throat.

"And now," he once more continues while coiling his left arm back and forming the hand into a strange claw shape "for the finisher."

Almost too fast for my eyes to see, he thrusts his left hand forward. I stiffen and retch as an incredible pain courses throughout my body, sprouting from my core that had just received the impact.

"Glurgh!" I grimace and gurgle beneath his hand.

A stunning, fuzzy feeling overtakes my body. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I blink out of consciousness.

…

…..

…..

I see… something.

A man on a corpse-riddled battlefield, steadying his breath while aiming an automatic rifle before pulling the trigger.

A squad of rugged seaman working together to load and position a broadside cannon on the deck of a Galleon.

An armored commander slowly hoisting his hand into the air, atop the castle walls, before slicing down the air in front of him- beckoning the men on the ground below to cleave the rope which held the trebuchet catapult loaded.

A hunter, donning dark woodland colors, readying an arrow as he points his bow in the direction of a bull elk- ripe with fur and meat.

Even bulky, savage men clad in animal pelts and plant foliage. They ready and hurl primitive weapons consisting of but a rock fastened to the end of a stick, as they charge on an ancient, walled city.

I see…

"*cough* *cough* Ngh!" I cough and gasp as my eyes snap open.

My limbs tremble and shiver as rain torrents down onto my already-soaked body. I jolt up into a sitting position, despite my body threatening to give out from the pain ailing my midsection. My eyes dart around, but I see no sign of the man who'd assaulted me.

"Ugh!" I grunt as I rise onto my wobbly legs. Then again, I can't really see much of anything with how dark it's gotten. Aside from the illumination casted by the occasional roll of thunder, there's no light for me to see. Nn… I wonder how long I was out for.

"With this…"

My body tenses and my eyes widen as I hear a familiar voice. The man?! He's still here? Without looking, I swat my hand down to the ground and nab the blade, as if I instinctively knew where it rested. I ready myself, looking in every direction surrounding me, in case he decides to attack me again. Though I doubt I'd stand a chance.

"…your destiny has been set into stone. Your path henceforth will be fraught with the concept of Archer."

Upon hearing it again, I realize I can't discern a direction or distance that it is from me. It's as though he's speaking right into my ear. Or, inside my head. After standing anxiously for a short while, I finally hear the voice continue.

"So long, young one. I wonder what will become of you… 'Archer'."

The title was directed at me in a jeering, almost mocking, tone. After hearing the voice again for the third time, I notice something else off about it. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but I'm reminded of those prerecorded messages from scam callers.

Deciding not to wait around and see if there's more, I backtrack from the muddy clearing and scurry into the dense woods. I forget to even spin my knife and see what direction home is, wanting only to get as much distance between me and that area as possible. I stumble and fumble through rain and plants as I hurry along.

For goodness sake… "The Concept of Archer", "good/bad endings", "origins"- I should've known from the start that I was being bs'd. Between how scary he looked, his inhuman strength, and the poison he force-fed me, I'm lucky to say I walked away in one piece. However, if he wasn't out for my life or to conduct any unsavory acts on me, then I can only wonder what the purpose of all that was. Would he really blow steam about all that crazy nonsense and conjure up all that exposition if he just wanted to punch me around a bit?

I sum it all up to him just being some insane wanderer as I continue walking aimlessly through the forest. Oh, yeah. I should probably try and see if this dumb thing can lead me back home now… Or, maybe I should just find a big tree to curl beneath and wait out this storm under?

As I debate on what the hell I'm going to do now, I notice a faint glimmer in the distance, between the clusters of trees. What… is that? I stare at it for a while, hesitantly, before finally allowing myself to begin approaching it.

Once I'm almost upon it, I realize that the "glimmer" I saw was from a cozy campfire. I approach the fire, from which I smell what is unmistakably cooked meat, as I weave between the remaining trees. The fire is in the middle of a small clearing in the woods, atop stamped down foliage and beneath an overhead canopy of sticks, twigs, and other supplies from the forest. The construct is shielding the flames from most of the unyielding rainwater.

This was clearly all constructed by someone, but who? My question is answered as I peer into the clearing from behind a tree on the perimeter. The log of a tree trunk rests atop the ground near the fire, upon which someone is utilizing it as a seat. Their back is facing me, so I can only manage a silhouette of the individual. A small person? A child?

"Yeah," the person suddenly calls out "I know you're back there. Why don't you come out and quit hiding like a coward?"

The voice which spoke to me was that of a young boy's, confirming my guess of it being a child. Still, even if he's a child, the voice carried an authoritative and scary tone that I don't think I should defy. I comply immediately and emerge from the tree line, into the clearing.

As I approach him, he turns from where he's seated on the log to face me. I'm taken slightly aback when, after having come closer, I'm greeted with the refined features of a blonde child, who's clearly foreign. His eyes… The irises of his eyes are a brilliant crimson color, akin to Irisviel's own. His visage causes me to stop in my tracks.

"Who… are you?" I ask, beyond confused. My question prompts him to skew his brow at me and tap his finger against his chin, as though he's pondering on how to respond.

"I'm…" He starts, hesitantly. "You know what? For the time being, I'll allow you to just call me… Archer."