Following the festivities of the previous evening—an impromptu welcoming for Caster—Illya and I ventured out from the castle.
Caster remained behind, sequestered within the depths of the fortress to establish her workshop. Though the Einzberns possessed their own formidable laboratories, the workshops of a magus from the Age of Gods were of a different caliber entirely. Her choice was as inevitable as it was superior.
It was Illya who insisted on the excursion. She harbored a desire to trace the remnants of Kiritsugu Emiya, leading me toward the Ryuudou Temple, situated atop the prominent spiritual pulse of Fuyuki City.
...Naturally, I was the one performing the labor of the ascent, with Illya perched regally upon my shoulders. Overwhelmed by a sense of absurdity, I finally spoke.
"Listen, brat. If you were the one who suggested this trek, you should at least use your own feet to conquer the stairs."
"But there are simply too many steps! Besides, would a true knight truly allow a lady to suffer such exhaustion? I thought better of you, Berserker."
"A lady? Perish the thought. You merely have the appearance of a waif; in truth, your age is far more—"
Thud!
Stung by the undeniable truth, Illya brought both fists down upon my head with all her might. Of course, the strikes were effortlessly absorbed by the Armor of the White Dragon.
From atop my shoulders, her voice rang out—vibrant and childlike, yet laced with a chilling, murderous intent.
"...My Berserker truly lacks any consideration for a lady's sensibilities. Is it because you are an 'Alter'?"
"...Urgh."
I let out a dry cough, caught off-guard by her counterattack. She had struck a nerve—my greatest insecurity.
Even with my knowledge of this world's mechanisms, the fact that I had been summoned as an 'Alter' remained a bitter pill to swallow. I, of all people, an Alter? It was preposterous. The record from the Throne of Heroes claimed it was a manifestation of my cold, ruthless facet—a version of myself who would commit any atrocity for the sake of Artoria... but calling me an Alter felt excessive.
My fragile heart of glass having suffered a critical blow, I silenced my protests and obediently carried her the rest of the way up the mountain.
Upon arriving at Ryuudou Temple, I finally set Illya down. Guided by one of the resident monks, we reached the cemetery and began to wander through the silent rows of stone.
Illya scanned the names etched into the granite until, suddenly, she came to a halt before a particular grave.
The look in her eyes was a chaotic tapestry of conflicting emotions. Sensing the weight of the moment, I looked toward the headstone and gave a solemn nod.
[Kiritsugu Emiya]
It was the resting place of her father. Before his grave, Illya stood in profound silence, her gaze fixed solely upon the name carved in the cold stone.
I stood behind her, offering no words, merely keeping watch. Though I knew her family's tragic history through the original tale and my own fragmented memories, this was a burden she had to navigate on her own.
Ten minutes of heavy silence passed before she finally spoke, her eyes never wavering from the monument.
"...Berserker. You saw my memories, didn't you?"
"...I did."
"I hate him... I hate Kiritsugu so much for abandoning me... I loathe the thought of him living a life of happiness alone while I was left behind!"
She took a shuddering breath. "But... now, I find I cannot hate him with the same simple purity I had as a child. I am no longer ignorant. I know now that he didn't refuse to come back... he was unable to come back. Yet, I still cannot find it in myself to forgive him. What am I supposed to do?"
I widened my eyes in surprise. Had she known all along? No one had told her; she must have deduced the truth through her own intuition and the fragments of the past. I looked down at the girl and spoke firmly.
"A child need not act with the stoicism of an adult. You are permitted to weep, and you are permitted to howl in your hatred. However, remember this one thing."
You may be haunted by the shadows of the past, but do not let them blind you to the reality of the present or the light of the future. At my words, Illya turned her head, her eyes wide with astonishment.
She stared at me for a long moment before a faint, bitter smile touched her lips.
"...Thank you... Berserker."
"What is it now?"
"There is another place I wish to go."
***
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the world was surrendered to the darkness of night. Relying on the dim radiance of the streetlamps, Illya and I stood atop a slope, overlooking the path below.
I hadn't expected the 'other place' to be the Emiya estate. Massaging my temples at this unforeseen turn of events, I listened as Illya spoke.
"Someone is coming."
"...An acquaintance?" I asked, merely for the sake of formality, though I already knew the answer.
"Mmm... you could call him an adopted younger brother? Though I've never actually met him in person."
"...That is quite the convoluted relationship."
"It is a bit complicated. And Berserker? A gentleman shouldn't pry into a lady's past."
"..."
Since I possessed a fair understanding of the situation, I chose not to press the matter. There was little profit in it; it would only sour our rapport.
I simply looked at her with an expression that conveyed I had much to say but would refrain from saying it, knowing full well she would have a retort prepared. Seeing my face, Illya let out a guilty-sounding cough.
"Ahem... regardless! If that boy hasn't summoned a Servant yet, I want you to whisk me away from him the moment I finish speaking to him. I'm counting on you, Berserker!"
"*Sigh*... Very well. I shall do as you wish."
I let out a heavy breath and peered down the hill. Though our visibility was a concern, I was currently clad in mundane attire and he shouldn't recognize me, so it mattered little.
After a short wait, a red-haired boy began to ascend the slope. Seeing him, Illya wore a mischievous, almost devilish smile. One look was enough for me to know her intent.
'She's absolutely planning to torment the boy...'
The boy, Shirou Emiya, trudged up the path beneath the glow of the streetlamps until he caught sight of us standing atop the hill. He looked at us with confusion and curiosity. A blonde man and a white-haired girl—certainly a striking duo that would draw the eyes of any passerby.
I followed close behind Illya as she began to walk toward him. She moved with an easy grace, her hands clasped playfully behind her back.
As she brushed past Shirou Emiya, she whispered in a low, haunting tone.
"...If you don't summon one soon, you're going to die, Big Brother."
Startled, the boy spun around, but I had already gathered Illya and vanished into the night.
He found nothing but the empty street behind him. Shirou Emiya could do nothing but stare at the space where we had stood, lost in a bewildered silence.
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