Chapter 1 Settle the Score with Illya
When the sunlight pierced through the morning mist and quietly fell upon the corridor, the entire world was dyed in a layer of faint, soft golden radiance. The source of light behind the clouds was half-hidden. What should be done? The matters requiring thought and decision were far too complex; when pressed into a single mass, they instead caused one to lose the ability to scrutinize them carefully. In light of this theory, Shirou, having just slept in and crawled out from under the covers, was currently wavering in indecision.
"Shirou~!"
A bell-like, swaying shout came from behind as Illya's voice drifted over. The petite girl chased him out to the hotel lobby entrance and immediately hugged Shirou's arm, expressing intimacy while also appearing afraid that the silently standing Shirou might lose his footing and fall.
"Illya, don't worry. I know my physical condition; it's fine now."
"It's been less than eight hours since you were in such a wretched state, so Shirou shouldn't pretend everything is as it always was! It's an older sister's duty to take care of a wayward younger brother." Illya insisted stubbornly, voicing her protest.
"But, given the current degree of recovery, even Saber and the others agreed to let me out for a breath of air, right?"
"They are them, and Illya is Illya, okay?"
With an innocent gaze, Illya looked toward Shirou with a silence that spoke louder than words, indicating she could not accept it.
The warmth of the girl's body came from his forearm. Her skin, as white as snow, actually still possessed a human temperature. Illya fell silent for dozens of seconds. After another few dozen seconds, she suddenly whispered: "Shirou, you came back..."
"Yeah, I'm back, Illya." And so, Shirou spoke the everyday words that carried enough weight to represent how much he cherished her.
"Shirou can still smile like this..."
"Sorry for making you worry."
And so, Shirou stroked the silver hair that Illya leaned toward him.
"Shirou can still stroke my hair like this..."
"As long as Illya wishes for it, I'll stroke your hair often."
Illya was someone who almost never shed tears.
Even if her own functions were to stop, to her, it was merely an established fact to be greeted with a certain attitude. Because the Holy Grail was simply a manufactured thing.
Since it was made with the premise of breaking, there was no need to hesitate over its destruction. Therefore, it should have been no different when the subject changed to Shirou... Or so it should have been—if Shirou pretended not to see the mist rippling only within her eyes.
The illusion of letting things pass by according to Illya's obfuscation lasted only an instant, ending, as expected, with her final sentence.
"Shirou... I ran away." She spoke faintly and quietly. Shirou could not see her face hidden beneath her hair. This was a sight Shirou could not simply sit back and watch.
"That's not how it is." In order to see Illya's expression, Shirou placed his free hand on the girl's shoulder, then knelt on one knee to meet those crying eyes at eye level.
Illya hurriedly took a step back, but having forgotten she was still clutching Shirou's arm, she couldn't retreat; instead, the counterforce pulled her back to face Shirou.
"That wasn't an opponent Illya could defeat. In that case, running away was the correct choice. It wasn't to abandon the other person, but to ensure they wouldn't suffer for losing something important. That action was taken so that we could meet again under the same roof like this."
Therefore, Illya was not in the wrong. Illya felt uneasy because she had "abandoned" Shirou, leaving him to face the danger alone. If she was still dwelling on it, Shirou could at least ease her mind.
Illya, who hesitated not at all when it came to discarding herself, became so conflicted the moment she was required by Shirou to "discard Shirou."
"But, what about Shirou?" Illya took a deep breath, retracted her retreat, and stared at Shirou with eyes like mirrors, reflecting his own figure. Her words were laced with a hint of hidden resentment: "If Shirou were in the same situation, you would definitely have rushed forward desperately to save me, wouldn't you?"
"I..."
"Don't even try to argue. Shirou was clearly so weak before, yet didn't you pull Saber away from beneath Berserker's blade?"
There was the sound effect of a certain thorned spear piercing and hitting a heart. Oh no, a bullet from the past had hit the present self.
There really was no defending against this now.
"Shirou would do that for me, for Saber, yet I have nothing I can do for Shirou. Even this time, it was Shirou who took the initiative to draw that Heroic Spirit's attention. Originally, that Heroic Spirit wasn't even attacking Shirou; it was because of me."
Illya felt it was unfair, truly far too cunning.
From the past to the present, Shirou had taken so much upon himself, yet he wouldn't even allow Illya to keep a sense of indebtedness. If Illya didn't say it aloud, he would never proactively bring it up.
This current result wasn't "an older sister protecting a younger brother," it was simply "an older brother protecting a younger sister." This feeling of powerlessness derived from being protected was the most cunning part of all.
Neither side spoke. After staring seriously into Illya's wavering eyes, the only thing Shirou could do was exert a little pressure with the hand resting on the back of Illya's head, putting on a smile as he pulled her into a hug.
This was Shirou's way.
Just as an obligation arises from surviving a great fire. Just as atonement arises from the sins one is swept up in. If there is a place for hesitation, the moment to face it will always come.
However, Shirou would not let Illya face it alone.
For the girl in the castle of snow was no longer lonely.
"I don't actually feel like I ran away just because I was protected by Shirou, you know."
About a moment later, Illya placed her hands on Shirou's chest and pushed him back slightly. Though the movement was without hesitation, her expression looked a bit reluctant. She looked guilty, yet she spoke the full thought softly: "That Heroic Spirit... I should be the one to face him."
"...Why do you say that?"
"It's just an intuition. He's looking for me. He needs me to tell him something. No one else but me will do. Only the existence that is Illyasviel can establish a connection with him."
Despite that—Illyasviel fled from that situation. Therefore, the monster Heroic Spirit continued down the path of eternal damnation; the two missed each other. As the price for that escape, Emiya Shirou stood in for Illyasviel and bore the painful punishment she should have received.
"I don't understand why I have this sense of duty... but, it just feels so familiar. I definitely know that Heroic Spirit very well."
Illya looked up. She raised a snow-white index finger with momentum and said in the tone of an older sister: "Shirou, who is that Heroic Spirit?"
Shirou silently averted his gaze.
This was exactly what Shirou had been hesitating over. Telling the truth would surely hurt Illya. If Shirou could have simply spilled everything about Alcides right now, there would have been no need for his earlier hesitation.
The silver-haired girl said nothing, only pouting slightly: "Is Shirou going to keep it from me again? You clearly know, don't you?"
She seemed to think for a long time, and then, at a distance that remained close to Shirou since the hug, she broke into a pure yet lonely smile.
"I'm not actually that fragile. So, will you allow me to face it together with you?"
Illya is Shirou's family. When Shirou thought of this, it felt as though the arms of various people were giving him a push from behind. He couldn't leave her behind. If he left her behind because he didn't want to hurt her, it would be putting the cart before the horse. Facing Illya's sincerity, Shirou's hesitation vanished with incredible speed. Shirou raised both hands in defeat and spoke:
"That Heroic Spirit is—"
'Alcides. One day, Illya and I will settle the score with you together, in our own way.
Please wait a little longer.'
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