Sleeping at two, waking up at four on the dot, Shirou's ears and eyes were sharp, his spirit unbelievably clear.
It could only be said that on the road of not being human, he was going further and further.
He pulled out his phone to confirm the time.
April 17th, 4:01 a.m., Saturday.
Folding the blanket, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
While brushing, he touched the abs on his stomach.
Don't get the wrong idea, he had no special hobby.
He was just checking if his muscles were firm enough.
After finishing washing up, feeling his body brimming with energy, Shirou ran outside without even wearing a jacket, neck hunched.
"Hiss~"
Turns out he was still too soft.
Late April mornings weren't warm enough for a boy to go out without a jacket.
With his willpower surrendering, he had no choice but to call out to the system.
'System-san, run, run!'
One second: Hosting, Two seconds: standard posture. Three seconds: already two steps out.
Shivering body, fragile will, submissive soul, none of it needed.
As always: if you can't get up, the system will pull you up.
His stride was smooth and professional.
This time Shirou brought real determination. If he didn't run himself to death, he'd run to death's door.
And the speed was fast.
At four in the morning, the sky was still a deep blue, like satin soaked in night, not yet faded.
All around was quiet, not even insect sounds.
As his body heated up from running fast, the cold biting wind turned into refreshing air.
Even his breaths carried crisp coolness.
The streets were still empty, though certain harbors had long since begun operations.
In Miyama Town, only the streetlights shone with not-so-dim light in the open, casting long slanted shadows on the many uphill roads.
One kilometer, two kilometers… ten kilometers.
Sweat dripped from his chin, his clothes were soaked through.
Ten kilometers in an hour, already surpassing the average of frequent exercisers, stronger than most adults.
But this wasn't enough.
Nowhere near the endurance of rank B.
So Shirou ordered the system to go faster. He wanted to break his limits.
This time he did ten kilometers in half an hour, equivalent to having already run twenty kilometers.
'Still far from enough!'
Faster still, gradually approaching sprinting speed.
The third set of ten kilometers… Disgust seeped in, his will beginning to be tugged toward giving up.
System-Shirou's expression was cold, indifferent.
The fourth ten kilometers, fifth… Seventh, eighth…
"Haa!"
Stopping at his doorstep, Shirou felt he could hardly stand.
Three and a half hours, eighty kilometers.
Average pace close to 2 minutes 38 seconds per kilometer.
That pace wasn't even something a B-rank could reach.
Not even A-rank.
Currently, the world's fastest marathon record holder, Kelvin Kiptum, won the Chicago Marathon with 2 hours 0 minutes 35 seconds for 42.195 km.
Average pace: 2 minutes 51 seconds per kilometer.
Shirou had beaten him by over ten seconds.
Yet this proved nothing.
After all, his benchmark wasn't athletes, and his reason for running wasn't glory.
With a system, with the sheath, with the ability to grow stronger even just by eating, pushing himself to this result, what was there to be proud of?
In Tiger Dojo, after letting the system handle massages post-training, Shirou stepped into the entryway.
Sella, wearing an apron, came out holding a spatula when she heard movement, eyes widening, "You…"
What were you doing, hadn't yet left her mouth.
She saw the exhausted Shirou place his finger on his lips and smile.
Almost 8 o'clock. The girls who'd gone to bed late hadn't woken yet.
That gesture wasn't just telling Sella to be quiet. It was asking her to cover for him.
Sella, speechless for a moment, didn't know what to say. She only glared again, then walked over to fetch his slippers.
Her tone fierce, "Go bathe, now! If you give yourself away, don't expect me to cover for you."
"Thanks."
Grateful, Shirou headed off to bathe.
When he came out, Sella had already prepared rice and was kneeling in the living room waiting.
"Leave your clothes, I'll wash them. Come eat."
A normal way of communicating with the boy.
"So early, what about Illya and Miyu?", Shirou was a little surprised.
Sella glared again, "If you don't want to eat, then forget it."
"No, it's perfect, I really need this!", Shirou sat down quickly, one bowl after another.
Only then did Sella speak, "I'll make something else for the young lady and Miss Miyu. But you—"
Her gaze stabbed sharp like a knife and didn't pull out, "Is this level of training supposed to be normal? I don't quite get it."
"Don't worry," Shirou devoured food, "It only looks rough, it's not as bad as you think."
"Ever since you came here, I've wondered, not to mention what time you sleep. I come at four-thirty, and you're already out training. Can your body really handle it?", Sella's tone was almost accusatory.
"Haven't you seen? After all these years, I've never had a problem," Having lived this way less than a week, Shirou lied without blinking, eyes fixed only on food.
"Hmph~"
Sella pulled all the remaining food over to him.
———
After breakfast, Miyu had just woken, yawning.
"You've got eye gunk~", Shirou reached out and gently wiped the tear crust from her lashes.
"Onii-chan~", Miyu jolted awake from her daze, realized he was teasing, and puffed her cheeks angrily.
"Haha," Shirou patted her head, "I'm heading to the academy to find Dr. Roman. You and Illya stay home. If you go out, make sure to take Liz along."
"Going to Dr. Roman?", Miyu clasped her hands, "Are you feeling unwell, onii-chan?"
"No," Shirou smiled as he answered, "I promised Dr. Roman I'd have a meal with him."
Miyu pouted, "Why does onii-chan always eat with guys?"
"Do I?"
Shirou thought aloud, "Recently I ate with Fujimaru and Mash."
"Fujimaru, Mash?"
Her red eyes sharpened, "Upperclassmen in your year?"
"Yeah."
"You're not secretly going out with them this time, are you?"
"No, I don't think we're that close. Just normal friends."
"Really."
The girl obviously let out a sigh of relief.
She watched him to the entryway.
"Bye-bye."
Shirou waved after putting on his shoes.
"Mm, safe travels."
———
Leaving the Emiya residence, Shirou chose to run to school instead of taking the bus.
Even at a faster pace, it wasn't a problem.
He had told Roman about it in advance.
Training like crazy at home was fine, but going too far wasn't.
And with all the food he needed after training, he couldn't keep having Sella do it.
Other than Shirou, no one could keep up with making such huge amounts of food regularly.
So finding Roman was the right choice.
On weekends, sports clubs still trained.
At school, not only could he borrow equipment from the warehouse to the infirmary, but after training he could have Roman take him to a buffet, then return for more training, then eat again.
He'd treat the money as borrowed, to be paid back later.
Push his body to the limit, then sleep two hours.
A 24-hour seamless cycle.
Put that way, if he were Goku, breaking through a parallel universe in eight days would be just around the corner. Except there was no eighth day at all.
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