"Sir. The flight has landed."

The redheaded man woke to a flight attendant looking down at him. His dull, golden-colored eyes were weary, and as he came to recognize his surroundings, he yawned. His hair was styled in a classic quiff, while he wore a nice, crisp, navy blue suit and a red tie.

He was a tired man, not because of the long flight to Japan, but because of his life. Granted, he would not complain. He knew it didn't do anyone any good. It was what had inevitably would become of him. He knew as much after the Fifth Fuyuki Grail War.

"Oh, right," Shirou Emiya sighed, "thanks."

He stood up, finding he was the last one on the plane. With a sigh, he took his bags from the upper compartment and walked out. He rolled his suitcase into Fuyuki International Airport, whistling a tune familiar to him.

He glanced around at the airport, wondering how the city had changed ever since he left. The airport was filled with busy people, a lively atmosphere to the area. He looked out the windows to see the bright sun and dozens of planes landing and ready to take off. He had a faint smile on his face before he continued on his way.

He eventually scrolled to baggage claim, patiently waiting for the rest of his stuff. He hadn't been to Japan in nearly eight years, and the last time was only because he had personal business to conduct. It was odd returning to his country of birth. It felt somewhat awkward, actually, returning to Fuyuki City.

He looked up at a nearby electronic calendar on the wall. June 1, 2019. It was roughly 4 in the afternoon. The 32-year old Shirou Emiya eventually found his bags, and the moment he got them, he got a tap on the shoulder. If it wasn't for the voice accompanied with the tap, he probably would've reacted defensively.

"Fuji-nee...you know I don't like that," Shirou sighed as he turned around. Even though she was nearing the age of forty, Taigā Fujimura was as lively as ever.

"Come on now, Shirou!" Taigā laughed, "have a smile on your face every once and a while! Here, I'll take one of your bags."

Shirou only sighed as he followed her out of the airport. It was still early morning, and as he got into the passenger seat of Taigā's car, he frowned. Fuyuki City was the same as always. Yet, he didn't like being back home.

"You haven't visited in over thirteen years, Shirou!" Taigā said with a pout as they drove, "ever since you were caught up in that war, no one saw you for years!"

"I was busy, Fuji-nee," Shirou chuckled, "you know how horrible the war was for everyone. The country was nearly overrun."

"I guess, but that doesn't give you the excuse to just not visit!" Taigā retorted, "didn't your military service ended in 2011?"

"I was...I was caught up in other things," Shirou replied sheepishly.

"Right...didn't you say you were looking to become a Hero of Justice? What happened to that?" Taigā asked, "you look more dead on the inside than usual."

"Time changes," Shirou sighed deeply.

"Don't give me that excuse," Taigā frowned, "The Shirou I knew didn't give up on the dream so easily. I actually miss that side of you."

"I really don't," Shirou said softly, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

He looked out the window as they drove into the heart of the city. He still saw buildings in disarray, but also land developments throughout the city as an indicator that the old was to be swept out with the new.

"The city has changed since I last saw it," Shirou chuckled quietly.

"Much is still the same," Taigā sighed, "but the war did bring a lot of baggage."

"I suppose it did," Shirou nodded.

"Must you always carry a gun?" Taigā asked as she noticed his holster, "Fuyuki isn't that dangerous."

"It calms my nerves," Shirou replied. Taigā frowned at his response.

"You know, I've noticed you haven't talked much like you used to," Taigā remarked, "was the war really that bad on your psyche?"

Shirou stayed silent, giving Taigā her answer. The English teacher sighed, saddened that her former student was almost a shell of his former self.

"I'd...I'd like to visit Tohsaka, before we return," Shirou stated softly, "and Sakura too."

"Of course," Taigā nodded solemnly, "of course."

Shirou placed a few roses down at the two tombstones. He had a frown on his face as he stood up. He thought it was nice that the two sisters had been able to be buried next to each other, despite dying in different locations.

The cemetery was quiet and mostly vacant, with only he and Taigā there. The warm summer breeze swept through the area, leaving a gentle feeling on Shirou's face. He wondered how life would've been if he still had Rin's guidance, as well as Sakura's gentle kindness. Unfortunately, it made no sense to think such a thing. The past is the past. It had been years since their deaths.

"I think Sakura would've made a good housewife," Taigā remarked.

"You always say that," Shirou sighed softly.

"But am I wrong?" Taigā laughed. Shirou only shrugged. "Though...I never really did know what happened to Sakura. I just got the news she died one day, remember that?"

Shirou visibly winced at the mention of it, a grimace plastered on his face. His hand slightly trembled as some of the light in his eyes dulled. Even so, one could still find sadness, anger, self-loathing and...remorse, in those eyes.

"Yeah," Shirou said dryly, "I was there for her funeral in Kyoto before she was buried here."

"Strange," Taigā murmured.

Rin had died in London back in 2008, due to implications with brain cancer. He remembered visiting her on her death bed. It was heartbreaking to see the proud Tohsaka Rin in such a condition. Out of all of the things that could've killed her, it was one of the common diseases known to man. The world was cruel, he thought. However, that simply was life. He had learned the hard way that just about anything could happen.

"Come on," Shirou finally said, "let's get back home."

The sound of a knife hitting the cutting board was heard throughout the Emiya household. Ever since he had moved out, Taigā had moved in. She somehow kept the house in a clean condition, despite her nature.

Shirou managed to retain his pristine cooking skills over the years, and heavily improved upon them from his travels around the world. Every movement was swift and with precision. His rolled-up sleeves revealed strong arms, while he also had calloused hands from years of labor.

He was cooking Chinese tonight. He drank his glass of bourbon in one down before he began washing the vegetables with water. It would take at least twenty minutes for all of the food to be ready.

"These new reports are getting outlandish by the day," Taigā sighed from the dining room. Shirou glanced to see the television. "Can you believe that? They're saying people are running into police stations saying they've seen the undead or something!"

Shirou visibly frowned. While it was outlandish to her, in his line of work, he knew it was possible trouble. He finished up dinner, bringing it over to the table. He looked at the news reporter on the TV. He didn't like the sound of terrified civilians screaming about people rising back from the dead.

"Oho! This is delicious, Shirou!" Taigā said proudly, "I've missed your cooking! You have any idea how hard it is to actually cook for yourself!?"

"Fuji-nee, that's just called being an adult," Shirou deadpanned. Taigā only waved it off.

"So! Tell me about your line of work," Taigā nudged, "is it exciting? Exhilarating? Do you get lots of money?"

"I just hunt down criminals, Fuji-nee, nothing more," Shirou chuckled softly, "someone has to be out there protecting innocent people."

"Is it like some spy business?" Taigā guessed.

"No, I'm not like that anymore," Shirou shook his head, "it's...I'm just a federal agent. I take down criminals anyway I can. Whether it be terrorists or serial killers, I'm there. What about you? How's the teacher life going for you?"

"Tiresome," Taigā groaned dramatically, "the workload increases every year!"

"Ah, the Japanese and their workaholic nature," Shirou laughed, "you should take some time off if it gets too hard."

"You make it sound easy, Shirou, I don't live in a country with company insurance and a pension," Taigā deadpanned.

"I don't think the federal government counts as a company," Shirou said jokingly as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. Taigā frowned as he closed the cap on the bottle.

"That's your sixth glass, how are you not drunk yet?" Taigā wondered.

"It's only 50% alcohol," Shirou shrugged, "nothing too much."

"Nothing too much!?" Taigā exclaimed, "has my Shirou become an alcoholic!?"

"I wouldn't call myself that-"

"What other drinks did you bring!?"

"Oh, vodka, more bourbon, some Scottish whiskey, two bottles of rum and gin. Oh, and cognac," Shirou stated. Taigā facepalmed. What happened in the past thirteen years!? "If it helps, I brought milk."

"No, it doesn't!" Taigā yelled, slamming her hand on the table. The redheaded man didn't look fazed. Shirou gave her a wry smile.

"Fine," Shirou sighed, "I'm a functioning alcoholic. I haven't killed anyone yet from being drunk, isn't that a good thing?"

Taigā's expression softened as she looked at her former student. She could see a deep sense of pain and weariness throughout his entire being, as well as a perpetual sadness in his eyes.

She remembered he still had a bit of liveliness to him when he was still living in Japan. Now, he only talked when needed, brooded, and tended to stare off into the distance. She looked at his arms, his rolled up sleeves revealing scars, yet his left arm was covered in what seemed to be Nordic tattoos, while she noticed his right arm seemed to have chains seared into them, though it must've been her imagination.

She did miss his messy auburn hair. His hair color had shifted towards a shade lighter and was always styled. His eyes had shifted toward a more defined golden color, compared to his usual golden-brown. He had grown more than a foot since she last saw him, and he had gained a considerable amount of muscle. He was a bit of a late-bloomer, she supposed, as she noticed he had recently shaved, the remnants of a beard shaved away.

"You're not going to eat?" Taigā asked softly.

"Already ate beforehand," Shirou waved it off. Taigā's lips pressed together in slight annoyance and frustration.

"Shirou...I know you're a federal agent, but have you ever killed anyone in your line of work?" Taigā asked slowly.

"All the time, even before I became an agent," Shirou said bluntly as if it was nothing special.

Taigā's mind did a good 180. The Shirou she remembered would be appalled at even the mention of murder. Hell, he'd even lambast such a thing. He loved the preservation of life. What happened? She had lost her appetite and set down her utensils.

"It's nothing personal, Fuji-nee," Shirou sighed, "it's strictly business."

"Business? To murder someone is business?" Taigā questioned.

"Everything is business as long as you can make a profit or get something out of it," Shirou said nonchalantly, "my line of work just so happens to be good business."

Taigā only gave him a skeptical look as he took her plates and headed to the kitchen to clean. He hummed another tune familiar to him as he did, before drying off his hands and squirting a good amount of hand sanitizer.

"Sakura would've said different," Taigā remarked.

"Sakura is dead, so it makes no sense for you to bring the dead into this," Shirou replied stoically.

"I always thought you wanted to save people," Taigā stated.

"I still do, I've just accepted that dying is a natural process of life," Shirou sighed, "you were far away from the worst of the war, Fuji-nee. You didn't see what I saw." He turned towards her with a hard look on his face. "At least Hell punishes the damned. War punishes everyone."

A heavy silence etched across the room. Taigā felt tense, while Shirou seemed stoic about the whole thing. It was if, to her, whatever she thought of him Shirou really didn't give a damn.

"And your wife?" Taigā asked quietly. Though his face didn't change, she saw his body stiffen slightly. She recalled him sending her a postcard of his wedding years ago. Perhaps her death affected him more than she had originally thought. "What would she say?"

He instead said nothing. He began to leave. He gave Taigā a wave, before he retreated to his sleeping quarters, leaving his former teacher to wonder what had happened ever since he left Japan for good in 2006. She frowned. He had been drafted during the Great War, into the JSDF.

She knew only a few details through her connections, but she recalled he had been recruited by another ally of Japan during the war and joined their military force instead. It had been a good solid thirteen years since he left Japan.

She had heard rumors here and there. Yet, she only ever truly knew the Shirou she saw now was not the Shirou she knew before. He was much more mature, weary, and he had a level of pain laced in with his cynical nature. He was a war veteran, that much was obvious, but she doubted it was just the war that messed him up.

She noticed he had left his plane ticket on the counter. She took a glance at it, and her eyes widened in slight surprise.

Why did he fly from Los Angeles? Last time she checked, he lived nowhere close to there.

In the middle of the night, when Taigā has fallen asleep, Shirou walked to the courtyard, the warm summer night breeze flowing through his hair. He was on Japan for his own personal business, of course. It was rare for a man like him to relax and have a full vacation. His boss worried about him too much, he thought.

Shirou walked to the shed where it all began. He sighed as he looked at the faded remains of the magical circle that summoned Saber. He frowned at the thought of her. Didn't he promise her one day he'd see her again? He supposed broken promises were just apart of his resume. Even so, he could never forget nor will he ever, for even if it had been fifteen years since that war, she held a special place in his heart.

He supposed he brooded too much. His colleagues said as much. He was rather cynical. His wife used to say as much when she first met him. Was this what the kids nowadays call edgy? Perhaps. As he walked to the courtyard, he could proudly say to himself he was manlier than Archer. That's good enough.

He walked further into the shed, stopping at the very end. He had taken Kiritsugu's notes before he left Japan, for he'd rather not have fools bastardized the man's knowledge for their own gain. When the Mage's Association discovered he was in the possession of a Reality Marble, he ran for his life, finding amnesty in the unlikeliest of places, and have stayed in his safe haven ever since, even when the Mage's Association stopped pursuing him.

Now...he could return. For he had made himself such an enemy of the Association they had given up on their hunt, for both knew that it would not end well for one of them. He had demonstrated as such. He didn't know if it was out of fear or respect they avoided him. Possibly both.

He had a sledgehammer with him, and, unceremoniously, began to strike the ground next to back wall. The ground cracked and dust spewed into the air, but he kept at it. Finally, the ground gave way, to which Shirou dropped to his knees and began to move small slabs of concrete out of the way.

He dusted the area, to reveal a faded leather briefcase. He brought it out of the ground, opening it. A gun was in it, still in pristine condition. It was a Thompson Contender. Dozens of bullets for the gun were found along with it. Shirou chuckled to himself as he felt Kiritsugu's signature weapon, fingers trailing over the barrel. He had a sad smile on his face as he thought back to his foster father.

"Well, I couldn't fulfill your old dream, old man," Shirou shakily sighed, "but I tried my best."

He closed the case and began to walk back to the house with it, looking at the clear night sky and full moon. He frowned. He had a sickening feeling that something bad was going to happen. He felt a buzz from his phone. Even though it was 2019, he still kept a flip phone. It was just more convenient for his line of work.

It was an incoming phone call. The ID of the caller made him crack into a warm smile, the first one he had since he left for Japan. With a sigh, he flipped it open and began to speak. He was interrupted, however.

"Oi, Baba Yaga, I'm driving in from Mifune in the morning," A joking female voice was heard over the phone. Shirou's smile widened and his body relaxed.

"Hey, Ryougi," Shirou said warmly, "I know a nice Chinese restaurant in Fuyuki. Would you like to meet up there?"

Shirou dreamt. Usually, he didn't. He had a bit of a pill addiction when it came to painkillers, antidepressants, and sleeping pills, and that usually made sure he slept soundly.

This time, however, with his stash of pills confiscated by his boss, he had been stuck rehabilitating for the past two months. Without the pills, he dreamt. Usually, the dreams were never pleasant.

It was a beach. A beach full of the dead. He saw himself march up the beach, reinforced legs launching himself into the air to avoid artillery and machine gunfire.

As troops braved the bullets and bombs, others were blown into the air, limbs ripped and flown across, blood splattered and darkening the ocean waters and sand, while many were frozen in place, screaming for their lives.

Shirou, covered in grime and blood, barked orders to other troops to keep moving. The battlefield shifted towards a city. The scene was very much the same, only this time the streets of Shanghai were the battlefield, and civilians were added into the body count.

"OI!" Shirou saw himself scream at a group of soldiers, "GET YOUR ASS MOVING! NOW!" He barked orders and kept calm amidst the heavy violence and chaos.

Fires were in every corner of the city. Screams, cries, yells, and all of the like filled the air as much as the smoke and debris did. While artillery and gunfire rocked the city, buildings collapsed and the unmistakable smell of gunpowder and the dead were found throughout the atmosphere. Blood, guts, artillery shells, bullet casings, and shattered hearts were all things war conspires, all to crown the unfortunate damned souls with wreaths of mocking fire.

A sound caused him to turn around quickly, rifle raised. His expression turned to one of shock. His jaw dropped. A golden-blonde woman with long wavy and dark red eyes stared blankly at him. Despite the chaos, she wore a long white dress and had a noticeable pendant around her neck. A six-pointed star.

"Arc?" Shirou gasped.

His deceased wife. Why was she here? Suddenly, he saw an incoming artillery shell zoom through the air at them. Even if he maxed out his abilities, he wouldn't have reached her in time. "NO!" The ground erupted, and he was flung back as the area was destroyed.

Shirou woke up with a gasp. He breathed heavily, his hand clutching his chest as he tried to regain his composure. He glanced at the clock next to his bed. It was four in the morning. He groaned as he sat up.

"That again?" Shirou muttered dejectedly.

Suddenly, his ears perked as he began to hear a car alarm go off. Then a car crash. And another. And another. Concerned, he stood up. Looking out his window, his eyes widened as he saw the unmistakable orange-red hue in the sky of burning fires. Was that also gunfire he heard?

He soon heard screams fill the air. Was he in a nightmare? He pinched himself. Then he slapped himself. Apparently, this was reality.

"You've got to be fucking joking me," Shirou gasped in shock.

He heard footsteps outside his door. Then scratching. Though full of dread, he was indeed curious. He reached for his holster, cocking his gun and he slowly approached the door. He slid the door open to find...

"Fuji-nee?" Shirou murmured. Granted, her skin seemed slightly discolored. Her eyes seemed feral. In fact, she seemed to growl. "You...you alright?"

In a split second, Shirou flung her away as she tried to pounce on him, slamming her into the opposite wall. She slowly stood up. She bared her teeth at him and growled even further. He stood in confusion as he held up his gun.

Were those...were those fangs? He then noticed her eyes were bloodshot and her irises were dark red. Her nails seemed to have sharpened into claws, and she seemed ready to attack.

"Hey...Fuji-nee?" Shirou said calmly, "stand down. I don't want to hurt you."

She launched herself at him once again, tackling him to the floor and causing the gun to skid across the room. Her mouth opened as if she was ready to bite into him. He held her back with one arm, narrowly dodging a swipe of her claws at his face. She snapped her jaws like a dog at him, and he was terrified beyond belief.

His other arm reached out and he tried to Project something, anything! But...he couldn't. His face turned to one of shock. He couldn't even feel his Circuits. He couldn't even sense the mana in the air. It felt like the magical energy of the world was...frozen.

He heard a subdued growl and he was snapped back to the situation at hand. He elbowed Taigā across the face and kicked her off once again to the opposite wall.

Her movements were wild and uncoordinated, and Shirou scrambled for his gun. He reached for it and rolled out of the way as Taigā crashed into his location.

"Come on, Fuji-nee! I don't know what's going on, but it's me!" Shirou yelled desperately, "Shirou! Shirou Emiya! Your goddamn former student!"

She was mindless. She tried to attack again anyway.

"Come on!" Shirou pleaded, "think goddammit, remember who I am!?"

He intercepted her attack, grabbing her arm, flipping and slamming her over his back. He jumped back as she tried to swipe at him. She launched herself at him again, only for him to swing her across the room.

"Don't make me do this!" Shirou begged, "get ahold of yourself! Please!"

Shirou stepped out of the way as she crashed into the wall as she blindly charged at him. She staggered to get up. Her head suddenly turned...but in a 360 degrees motion, with now both her face and back facing him. She screeched an inhuman screech and Shirou immediately fired into her, but only in the leg and shoulder.

"Don't make me do this! Taigā! Don't do this! You know this isn't you! Fight it!" Shirou yelled firmly as he aimed his gun.

Even so...she stood up, as if unaffected by it. He stared at his former sensei in shock and horror. He had seen the undead before but never did he thought he had to face one. He dodged the next incoming attack, which narrowly missed him.

She was slowly learning, Shirou realized. Even worse, she was beyond rationale. Beyond saving. It was...it was like the whole fiasco with Sakura all over again.

"Goddammit!" Shirou roared in anger, firing three bullets into Taigā's head. She fell abruptly, finally put down.

With a nervous gulp, he stepped closer to the body. A vampire, he realized. Not a Dead Apostle, mind you, but a vampire you'd see in common folklore. He could tell just from looking at it. But that was impossible! They were so rare that even the Mage's Association considered them a myth. It boggled his mind, before the sudden realization who he had killed etched into his psyche.

"Oh Christ, what the hell did I just do?" Shirou said softly, "no, no, no, no, NO!"

He yelled in anger and frustration, wanting to punch a wall. His breathing became shaky and he trembled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wanted to fall back and cry at his action.

"Dammit, dammit," Shirou muttered as he clutched his head, "not again, not again!"

He steadied himself, trying to calm his breathing. With a trembling hand, he reached down for Taigā's body. He didn't touch it but trailed a hand above it. He frowned as he did, his eyes turning from one full of stressed anger and remorse to one of shock and horror.

"Her soul...why is it still there?" Shirou gasped. It seemed trapped in her body, unable to leave. Wait...how was that possible?

He looked at his hands. He tried to Project something. He couldn't. He tried to reinforce his arm. He couldn't. He tried to sense the mana in the air. He couldn't. He couldn't even sense the amount of Od in his body.

He tried to surge his Magic Circuits with energy. Nothing. He frowned considerably. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He nervously looked back at Taigā's corpse.

He walked over to it and pulled out a flask from his bag. In a circular motion, he poured a few drops on her body. He didn't want her to be disgraced like this. She didn't deserve this damnation, and he would make sure she would be respected.

He said a silent prayer before he lit a match, throwing it on her corpse. It erupted into blue flames, a circle of fire around her, a six-pointed star in the middle. The flames began withering away her body, turning it to ash. He could finally feel her soul release from its undead prison. As Taigā turned to ash, Shirou looked at his window.

It seemed that even on his vacation, he was once again on the job. 'Tis the life of Shirou Emiya. Sticking his head into insanity even when he tried to avoid it.

A/N: Grumpy in-his-thirties Shirou Emiya is back on the job with hijinks in next chapter. Thanks for reading.