It had been ten long years since the Fourth Holy Grail War had come to a close. In its wake families were torn apart, lives lost, and futures destroyed. All involved had hoped for the same thing, to wish upon the Holy Grail and make their fondest dreams a reality. And, after a week of blood shed and death, one he man who was given the honor of making such a wish. A man of ideals, he had come into the war with a simple and child-like dream; that one day all the world's sufferings would come to an end.

But sadly a wish was all his ideals would stay. For in the dark embrace of the Grail, he found the folly of his ways. No matter how much he had given up in the name of saving the world, he would never truly relive mankind of its suffering. At best, he could bring happiness to a few people close to him. It was a truth that shook the man to his cores. He had devoted his entire life to his ideals and sacrificed even those he loved in their name. Now, standing before the reality of all things, he renounced it all. In his last moments, Emiya Kiritsugu was a "Champion of Justice" no more.

It was then that he finally made a wish. Meditating on what was most important to him, Kiritsugu wished for the happiness of those closest to him.

"All I want is for my wife and daughter to be happy."

His voice echoed through the darkness for what seemed like an eternity before finally reaching the unknowable intellect that lay buried deep within the Holy Grail. When it did, the illusionary world around Kiristsugu began to collapse and, as it did, he began to fall. Deeper and deeper he went until only darkness lay at his side. Finding himself in a silent realm of eternal darkness, Kiritsugu stood and wondered

Then, the creeping darkness began to ooze and ebb like a terrible beast of oil and slime. Moving as if by some unknown force, the ooze began to consume and envelop his body. Starting with his feet, it gradually climbed higher and higher until it finally overtook his eyes and mouth. This was the price enacted by the Grail. For the happiness of the few, many would be sacrificed.

Had Kirirsugu been able to make any noise at all, he would have screamed.

"I'm leaving, mom!" Shirou called from the manor's front door.

"Have a good day, dear." His mother returned from the kitchen where she began to prepare lunch for herself and her homeschooled daughter. Had she not been asleep at the moment, Illya, Shirou's adopted little sister, would have wished him goodbye as well.

And with that, he was off to school. It wasn't the longest walk to walk to school, but just long enough to allow for small bursts of quiet contemplation under the beautiful blue sky of a cold Fuyuki City morning. The topics on Shirou's mind were those which often plagued the psyche's of teenage boys.

"Does that cute girl in my class like?"

"Did I remember to do my homework last night?"

"I hope they're serving hamburger in the cafeteria today..."

But on some days,Shirou's thoughts wandered elsewhere to concerns that no normal teenage boy would ever have to consider. As of late, thoughts of his sister Illya lay heavy on his mind.

Just a few years ago she had simply stopped growing. Though everyone in the family tried their best to support Illya and help her fulfill her wish to go to school with her beloved older brother. It was simply not meant to be. A year ago, when Illya could take no more of the bullying and torment from those around her, she dropped out of school entirely and began attending home-school lessons led by her mother and a revolving cast of tutors.

The first day was the hardest, Illya had cried for hours and begged for Shirou to take her with him. Meeting her halfway, he eventually agreed that Illya could walk with him to school every morning if she was feeling up to it. Seeing all the work Irisviel was putting in to make sure that Illya got a good education, it was literally the least he could do to help his family through a rough time.

As his thoughts wandered back to the present, Shirou found himself directly in front of his high school's front gate. Around his dozens of students flooded into the school's campus, grumbling about various ills that had afflicted them the day before. It was here that Illya would normally part from his brother's side with a great sigh, and he would, in turn, wave to her and head off for another lengthy day of lectures and note taking. Today, in Illya's absence, Shirou merely did the latter, speeding off in hopes that he would be able to make it to class before first period bell rang.

It was lunch, and that meant Shirou could be found sitting at his desk and enjoying a meal made with love, a pinch of trial and error, by his mother Irisviel. As he indulged in the rice and eggs his mother had made for him, Shirou recalled in detail the tribulations she had gone through while learning to cook. In those days, it was common for homemade meals in the Pendragon household to range from lightly burnt to scorched in color and taste about as good as such coloring would suggest. But, nonetheless, everyone ate Irisviel's food happily because she was always trying her best for their sake. After a decade, and a few close calls that required the local fire department to resolve, Irisviel had become quite the cook and her lunchboxes the envy of every freshmen at Homurahara High School.

For Shirou, lunch was a time to relax and forget about his problems. Lost in Irisviel's cooking, his thoughts drifted to his daily training and the many bruises he had sustained because of it. Though Arturia was the nicest mother anyone could ever ask for most of the time, in the dojo she became a stern teacher who hammered every lesson into his head in the most literal way possible. To outsiders Arturia's method of training may seem almost abusesive, it was her and Shirou's way of bonding with one another. And it was through that bonding that Shirou had come to inherit his mother's chivalrous ideals. Though such a code of conduct may seem old-fashioned or even out of touch to some, for Shirou, it was a way to life that he would do almost anything to live up to.

"Yooooo, Earth to Pendragon-kun" A classmate called to Shirou as he waved his hand in front of the red haired youth's face. "You all right over there?"

Entranced by the savory flavor of his mother's cooking, Shirou had entirely failed to notice that lunch had been over for five minutes.

"Oh yeah...guess I gotta get going then. You can have the rest of my lunch if you want." Shirou stated in a droll way. He was never late for class, except on day's Irisviel had made lunch for him. As he ran out of the classroom in a hurry, Shirou made a mental note to set an alarm anytime Irisviel insisted on making lunch for him.

The last bell of the school day rang, marking the end of classes and the beginning of club activities. For Shirou, that meant practice with the Archery Club then going home or to work. Today, as he had the day off, he would go home and eat with the rest of his family.

Though he no longer recalled how it had become that way, food had always been at the center of social life In the Pendragon household, and because of this, meals, in particular dinner, were a time for family bonding. This often meant discussion of the current events and Illya frantically demanding that Shirou tell her every little detail of his day. Arturia would often share stories of British history and mythology, or at least what Shirou thought was mythology, while Irisviel was prone to discussing the rigors of shopping for a family of four and the details of the various television programs that she and Illya had taken to watching between lessons. It was a happy time for all involved and none of them would have it any other way.

Making his way to the school's Archery range, Shirou's found his path obstruced by a small group of people. Among them was Shinji Matou, a friend of his who was known as something of a Lady Killer around campus. Though he could sometimes be a jerk, he was Shirou's friend regardless.

"Hey, what's up?" Shirou asked cheerfully.

"Oh...I didn't even see you there. I'm afraid I'm a little busy now, could you do me a little favor?" Shinji flashed a smile. He was trying to look sincere. It wasn't working.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I've got things to do, so would you mind cleaning up the archery range after practice? I'd really appreciate it.

"No problem, you'll just owe me one next time."

"That will be great. But for now, I'll see you later, Pendragon. Me and my friends over here have a full night a head of us." Several of the girls in Shinji's group began to giggle as they walked off and leaft Shirou alone once more.

Shirou was a sucker for helping those in need, even if that need was as small as cleaning up after practice. Though he often cursed his own good nature, as he did right then as he walked towards the archery range, it had won him a reputation as a good friend and hard worker.

"And here I thought I'd have the day off..." Shirou said with a sigh as he finally entered the school's archery range.

The Archery club's memberships was an eclectic mix of those who were there for fun and the more ambitious whose sights were set on bigger things. Shirou fell firmly into the middle of that range. While he was good with a bow, his real talent lay in sword play. A fact that made his foray into the world of archery more a hobby and excuse to socialize than anything else. Either way, it was a fun experience and kept him busy during the small gap between the end of school and when his shift at a local liquor store began.

Practice passed with little issue, as the club's members went through their usual routine and attempted to better themselves with each draw of the bow-string. Just seeing everyone, even those who were only there for fun, try so hard, made Shirou want to do the same himself.

Afterwords, as everyone else filed out and headed home for the evening, Shirou soon found himself with only piles of archer equipment for company. Though he had desperately wanted to get home in time for dinner, seeing as Irisviel would give him an earful for missing such an important family function, he couldn't break a promise to a friend either. So, that in mind, he began to collect the various bows and other equipment and slowly but surely return them to their proper place. It was a tiresome process that took nearly an hour to complete and left Shirou exhausted.

"I really hope your appreciate this, Shinji, but it does feel good to finally be done." Shirou said as he swept the sweat from his brow. "Time to go home and see what punishment Mom has ready for me."

The usual punishment for missing dinner was having to cook dinner the next night. Though Shirou didn't mind doing so, and he in fact quite enjoyed the culinary arts, but the problem lay in just how picky Arturia and Illya were about what they ate. Illya hated Japanese food and avoided eating it unless she had to, while Arturia ate like a girl three times her side. Figuring what, and how much of it, to make was a massive pain. Because of this, cooking dinner more than deserved it's status as a punishment in the Pendragon household.

"Oh well..." Shirou thought aloud.

In the older section of Fuyuki, where streetlights are less numerous and houses tend to be older than then those who live within them, the starry night sky is especially beautiful. It was on just such a night that Irisviel had sat him down on the manor back porch and first explained to him the nature of magic and her status as a magus. A few years later, under that same starry sky, he had begun his training in magecraft with his mother and, slowly but surely, learned to control his power.

Though Shirou only really used magic to help in the repair of small electronics and other devices, the knowledge that he was capable of magic at all represented a link between him and Irisviel. Just as swordplay was his way of bonding with Arturia, practicing magecraft had come to be a time for bonding with Irisviel.

Passing by familiar buildings and landmarks, Shirou hurried home as fast as his legs would take him. As streetlights became nothing but a blur at his back, thoughts of a slightly reheated, but still homecooked, meal danced about in his head. So powerful was the thought that he could almost smell the scent of chicken wafting on the brisk winter winds.

Shirou's revelry continued unabated, until, suddenly, a different and far more powerful scent overtook the air around him. Smelling vaguely sweet but with hints of rust and other metals, it took a moment before Shirou's mind could process just what he had stumbled upon. It was a scent that brought back ill memories of the fire that had claimed his birth parent's lives and images of himself as a child covered in...

"Blood!" Shirou shouted in sudden realization.

And judging by the strength of the smell, it was fresh. This meant that someone was walking around with an open wound, even Shirou knew that much. If only he could find where it was coming from, maybe, he could help them

With only a scent to go on, Shirou scoured the immediate area for any sign of a blood trail, dead animals, or anything else that could point him to the whereabouts of the injured being in question. His search was short lived for, about two blocks from where he had started, stood a woman hobbled against one of the stone walls that stands between the road and a nearby home. As she clutched her hand to her chest, she appeared to be in great pain. And, as Shirou moved forword for a closer look, he was able to spy that she was wearing purple robes that were stained crimson with freshly spilled blood...