Rumble—
The Dark Age sky was torn open by a ghastly pale radiance.
It was a Level 7 spell—an anthem of despair known as Gospel.
"This isn't magic… this is a map-wide bombardment!"
Emiya Shirou clenched his teeth, boots carving two trenches through the stone as he braced himself. In front of him, a violet shield shaped like layered petals shook violently, screaming under the strain.
Rho Aias.
He'd only managed a rushed four-layer version—but the moment the shockwave hit, the first three layers vanished like pencil marks erased in an instant.
Crack!
The final petal webbed with fractures. The impact punched through the barrier and into Shirou's body, rearranging his insides like a cruel joke.
This was Alfia.
A casual flick of her hand carried the force of a modern cruise missile.
"Oh?" Alfia lifted a brow at the far end of the street. For the first time, a hint of interest stirred in her mismatched eyes. She'd used less than ten percent of her power—yet this "blacksmith" had endured it.
Even a Level 3 heavy fighter should have been turned into a smear.
"Your shield… has an intriguing structure." She raised her hand again, terrifying mana coiling at her fingertips. "Then what about this one?"
"Hey—seriously? Again?!" Cold sweat poured down Shirou's back. His mana was scraped clean, his body was one step from collapse. Another hit and it was lights out, no continues.
"Stop—!!"
A red blur threw herself in front of him.
Alise Lovell.
Captain of the Astraea Familia, the girl of blazing justice—now gripping her sword with both hands, legs trembling, yet still placing her body between that monster and a stranger.
"Don't… hurt him!" Alise shouted. "He's just a bystander! He's innocent!"
"Innocent?" Alfia's smile was razor-thin. "In Orario right now, weakness is a sin. And besides—" her gaze slid to Shirou "—someone who can take my strike isn't a 'bystander.'"
Then Alfia covered her mouth.
"Cough… cough…"
A thin line of blood seeped through her fingers.
That cursed illness—talent paid for in flesh—had flared again.
"Tch. How tedious." Alfia wiped the blood from her lip, and the crushing pressure around her evaporated like fog. She looked once at Shirou, then at Alise and Ryuu—ready to die for their ideals.
"Enough for today," she said. "My 'appetite' is satisfied."
She turned away, gray skirt snapping in the wind like a warning flag.
"Count yourselves lucky, little justice warriors. You get to keep breathing."
Then she paused, half-turning her head—those mismatched eyes catching Shirou like hooks.
"And you, Emiya Shirou."
"Your food… was good."
"The next time we meet, if you fail to entertain me…"
"I'll kill you."
With that, her figure dissolved into the darkness and was gone.
Only when her presence fully vanished did everyone dare to breathe again—like tourists returning from a brief visit to the underworld.
"We… we lived…" Laila collapsed onto the ground, pale as paper. "For a second I swear I saw my dead grandma waving at me from the riverbank."
"Idiot, that's your life flashing before your eyes," Kaguya snapped, though her sword hand still trembled.
"You okay?!" Alise spun back to support Shirou, who was swaying on his feet. "You're bleeding everywhere!"
"I'm fine… not dead yet…" Shirou tried to wave it off—
—and promptly rolled his eyes and collapsed, unconscious, clean and simple.
Mana: zero.
Stamina: zero.
Even iron needs a charge.
When Shirou opened his eyes again, he saw a plain but clean wooden ceiling. The air smelled of herbs—and faintly, pleasantly, of flowers.
"You're awake?"
A cool, delicate face entered his vision: short pale-green hair, pointed ears, and clear lake-blue eyes.
Ryuu Lion.Younger, less hardened—before tragedy carved her into something sharper.
"This is…" Shirou pushed himself up and realized he was lying in a soft bed. His injuries had been bandaged—though the technique looked less like medical care and more like someone wrapping rice dumplings with artistic enthusiasm.
"The Astraea Familia residence," Ryuu said, bringing him water. "The Garden of Stardust. Captain brought you back. I opposed bringing an unidentified man into a women-only familia home, but…"
She paused, gaze complicated.
"You saved us. That is a fact."
"My body moved on its own," Shirou said, taking the cup and drinking. "Also, that 'weird aunt' beat me half to death."
"'Weird aunt'…" Ryuu's mouth twitched.
Calling Alfia an aunt was the kind of courage that bordered on insanity.
"Either way—thank you for treating me," Shirou said, swinging his legs off the bed.
"You're leaving?" Ryuu asked.
"I have to." Shirou forced a smile. "I'm just a wandering blacksmith, and I'm… unregistered. Staying here will only cause trouble."
In the Dark Age, the Astraea Familia already had a target painted on their backs. He didn't want to add another.
"No!"
The door slammed open.
Alise burst in like a living fireball and planted a hand on Shirou's shoulder.
"If you're here, you're a guest!" she declared. "And you're injured! I already reported to Lady Astraea—she agreed you can stay until you recover!"
"But—"
"No buts!" Alise thrust her thumb up with authority. "Also, you can cook, right? Even that Alfia monster said your food was good! Our 'chef'—"
"Hey!" Kaguya's indignant shout came from the hallway. "I heard that! My cooking is not a weapon!"
Alise kept going anyway. "—Kaguya's cooking is basically a biochemical hazard! We need you!"
"My food is merely… avant-garde," Kaguya snapped from outside. "It's a pursuit of the ingredients' primal wildness!"
"Wild enough to turn oil into charcoal?" Laila's deadpan rebuttal followed immediately.
Shirou blinked at the noise, at the warmth, at the sheer life inside these walls.
So this was the Astraea Familia in the past.
Loud. Chaotic. Bright.
So different from the lonely future Ryuu.
"…Alright," Shirou sighed, his expression softening. "If the Goddess of Justice invites me, I'll accept."
If he couldn't return yet… then for now, he would protect this fragile daily life.
And so—
Emiya Shirou's Dark Age "living off the girls" (no, cough, being a guest) officially began.
Even in an era drenched in blood and fire, inside the Garden of Stardust the atmosphere started to… change.
Because of one man.
This had always been Kaguya's territory.
Today, a new king quietly took the throne.
"Um… Mister Emiya?" Ryuu stepped into the kitchen and froze at the sight.
Shirou was chopping vegetables, simmering soup, and baking bread at the same time—smooth, efficient, almost unreal.
That level of competence didn't exist in the Dark Age.
"This… how are you this skilled?" Ryuu asked, genuinely baffled. "Are you sure you're a blacksmith?"
"In some ways, blacksmithing and cooking are the same." Shirou didn't look up. The knife in his hand became a blur, like sword technique. "Understanding the materials and reshaping them. Heat, timing, ratios… it's deeper than people think."
"Hmph. Sounds pretty," Kaguya said, arms crossed at the doorway—holding a sword for some reason, as if that helped her authority. Her eyes, however, kept sneaking toward the pot. "Let's see what you can do. My 'special charcoal rice balls' have excellent chewiness."
"That's not chewiness," Laila said, slipping out from under Kaguya's arm to deliver the kill shot. "That's a dental-targeting noble phantasm."
Shirou lifted the lid.
No exaggerated divine light exploded—reality remained modest.
But the aroma that filled the room was warm, rich, and almost shocking: comfort, condensed.
With scarce ingredients in a scarce era, he'd used reinforcement to lock in flavor and controlled the fire like a craftsman.
Emiya Special: Mixed Warm Porridge.
"Gulp…" Kaguya's stomach betrayed her with a loud sound.
Her face reddened. "Tch. Smells… average."
Ten minutes later—
"So good! What is this?!" Alise shoved spoonfuls into her mouth, eyes sparkling like she'd been saved by the gods. "This is real food! Kaguya's stuff really is garbage!"
"Alise!" Kaguya yelled, but her own spoon was moving like a weapon, her bowl emptied in seconds. "Another bowl! I'm eating for… analysis. Yes. Intelligence gathering!"
"Waaah… I'm alive again…" Laila cradled her bowl with tears of gratitude. "I don't have to eat Dark Matter anymore. I swear I just gained ten years of lifespan."
"It's not just tasty," Ryuu said quietly, taking a measured sip. Her eyes sharpened in surprise. "My mana recovery feels… faster. Is that an effect of the cooking?"
"Just a minor trick," Shirou said with a modest smile.
Applied to ingredients, reinforcement didn't only preserve flavor. It improved nutritional uptake too.
Years of Emiya household survival skills, upgraded for a hell-world.
Shirou glanced at Ryuu's posture, then smiled. "Eat more, Miss Ryuu. You're too thin."
"…That's none of your business," Ryuu muttered, face dipping toward her bowl while the tips of her ears turned vividly red.
In the Dark Age, equipment repair could bankrupt a familia.
But now—
"Emiya! My blade chipped!" Alise rushed over.
"My shield is dented!" Laila slammed a half-person-tall shield onto the ground.
"My sword… is slightly dull," Kaguya said, trying very hard to sound indifferent as she offered her beloved blade. "Be careful. It's a fine weapon."
"One at a time," Shirou said, sitting on a small stool. A projected hammer rested in his hand; battered gear lay in a pile like wounded soldiers.
"Trace."
Green lines of mana pulsed along his circuits.
He ran his fingers over the metal.
"Structural analysis… fix… reinforce."
No furnace. No anvil.
He filled cracks with mana, corrected balance, adjusted hardness.
Alise's sword returned to her brighter than new, a faint sheen riding the edge.
"Done. I reinforced the guard too—better suited to your thrust style."
Alise swung twice, eyes shining. "Incredible! Better than new! Shirou, are you a forging god?! We're saving a fortune and getting upgrades!"
"I'm just a normal blacksmith," Shirou said, wiping sweat. "Next—Laila's shield. This alloy's brittle. I'll add a conceptual coating."
"Really?!" Laila vibrated with joy. "Emiya, you should join us! We're broke, but our captain can pay with—"
"Laila!" Alise went scarlet. "Shut up!"
"…Um."
Ryuu stepped forward hesitantly with her wooden sword—the one she carried as proof of her vow not to kill. It was scratched, cracked, worn down by a war that never stopped.
"Can… you fix this too?" she asked.
Shirou accepted it carefully, like something fragile and sacred.
"Of course," he said, voice gentler than before. "And I'll make it sturdier. Sturdy enough to carry your justice."
A soft green light passed through the wood.
The blade mended, smooth again—now carrying a faint scent of forest, as if remembering what peace felt like.
Ryuu's fingers traced the surface.
"…Thank you," she whispered.
And something inside her, quiet and long-suppressed by fear, shifted.
Most of the residence slept, except patrol.
Shirou sat alone on the roof, staring at the Dark Age sky—gray, heavy, wrong.
"Can't sleep?" Ryuu landed lightly beside him, holding two cups. She handed him one.
"Kaguya's private tea. It's good." She added, almost as an afterthought, "I borrowed it."
"Thanks," Shirou said, taking the warm cup.
Ryuu sat with her knees hugged to her chest, eyes on the distant Babel Tower.
"Emiya," she asked softly, "why are you so good to us?"
"You could've walked away. You're a stranger."
Shirou took a sip, gaze distant.
"Because… I can't stand it," he said. "In this era, doing the right thing is painfully hard. You and Captain Alise—you're trying anyway. For other people."
He turned to her, meeting her clear blue eyes.
"I'm not smart. I don't have grand answers." His voice was simple, steady. "But I know people like you shouldn't be punished by the world."
"If I don't help… I'll regret it forever."
"…Idiot," Ryuu murmured, then a tiny smile appeared—so faint it felt like it might vanish if the wind touched it. "You're the biggest idiot. You're covered in wounds yourself."
"Then we match," Shirou said, smiling back.
In the Dark Age, a brief silence like this was priceless.
Ryuu hesitated, then asked, "What's your dream?"
"My dream?" Shirou thought of a red silhouette, of a golden king of knights. "To become an ally of justice."
Ryuu let out a small laugh. "That's a childish dream. Even children don't say that anymore."
"Yeah," Shirou admitted, amused. "It's childish."
Then his smile faded into something unshakable.
"But that's exactly why someone has to keep saying it. Right?"
Ryuu looked at him—at that warmth, that stubborn resolve, like a candle that refused to go out.
"An ally of justice…" she repeated quietly.
"If I could be as steadfast as you…"
"I want to become a 'wind' that gives people hope."
The night breeze passed over them, threading red hair and pale-green strands together.
The future was still cruel. The coming tragedy was still waiting somewhere in the dark.
But at least, on this road called justice—
They weren't alone.
And Shirou didn't yet realize it, but these ordinary nights—cooking, repairing weapons, listening, staying—
Were planting seeds.
Seeds that might one day cross time, death, and despair…
And become a miracle.
....
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