Chapter 4: Prelude to a Smile
The afternoon silence at the Emiya Villa was a heavy cloak. Shirou felt it on his shoulders, a physical weight that wasn't gravity, but the fog of his own mind. His aimless steps led him through the hallways of what had, theoretically, been his new home for a few days now. His thoughts wandered, trapped between the emptiness of the present and the strident echoes of futures that did not belong to him.
One of the few certainties in that fog had a first and last name: Taiga Fujimura. Her appearance had been like a tornado in a graveyard: violent, noisy, and terribly alive. She introduced herself as a neighbor— it was from her family that Kiritsugu had bought the house— and, from the very first instant, focused a scorching attention on Shirou.
Every time Shirou thought of her, a wave of annoyance ran through him. He remembered how, after a brief exchange with Kiritsugu, she had unleashed a torrent of words upon him. She talked about her excitement at having new neighbors, her admiration for Kiritsugu, how heavy her life was as the captain of the kendo club. It was an incessant deluge. For a mind struggling to distinguish memory from premonition, every trivial anecdote about a grumpy teacher or a lost kendo match was an incongruous datum, white noise that, paradoxically, drowned out the droning buzz of his visions. It wasn't comforting, but it was simple. And at that moment, simplicity was a luxury.
But, ironically, that small daily chaos had become a strange point of reference. Amid the dissociation caused by his visions— that sensation of treading a stage whose traps he knew, but whose script was not his own— Taiga's constant noise was an anchor to the mundane. A reminder that a world of expensive cabbages and silly movies existed outside the prophetic nightmare he carried.
Perhaps that was why today, the first day she hadn't appeared, the feeling of emptiness was sharper. He looked for her without meaning to, rummaging through the house until he reached the basement. Among rolls of old tatami and a broken lamp, his hands found a dusty case.
He opened it without expectations. Inside, lying on worn velvet, was a violin. The wood, of a deep amber, shone faintly. There was no memory, no vision. Only a muscular impulse, an itch in the tips of his fingers that demanded contact with the strings.
Before his mind could analyze it, his feet took him to the courtyard. He sat on the edge of the engawa. The wood of the violin pressed against his jaw, his fingers found the strings with a disturbing familiarity. He adjusted the tuning pegs with a precision he did not understand.
The first contact of the bow produced a long, low moan. And then, his fingers began to move. It was not he who guided them. It was the phantom memory of another self, someone who was and would never be again, taking control.
A slow melody filled the quiet air: Hallelujah. His lips parted and a melodic voice, which sounded both alien and his own, mixed with the violin's lament.
— I've heard there was a secret chord… (He oído que había un acorde secreto...)
'A secret chord. Like my existence. Kiritsugu calls me Shirou, but that name rings hollow. Who died in the fire? Who am I now? I only know that this body does not fully belong to me, and this future… this future is plagued with danger signs that only I can see. I see a girl with straight hair and empty eyes, smiling at a table while something dark writhes beneath her skin. I see a man in a red cloak, full of scars and a bitterness so deep I can almost taste it. They are scraps of a drama in which I am written to act, and I don't know my lines.'
The bow slid, the music flowing, draining for a moment the pressure from his chest.
— But you don't really care for music, do you? (Pero a ti realmente no te importa la música, ¿verdad?)
'Who cares? Maybe she does. Taiga. Her world is simple, direct. There's no place for visions of wars between the living dead or girls crying in the darkness. Her reality is made of words and karinto. And, against all logic, her noise has been the only thing that has made me feel… present. It's irritating. And it's the most real thing I have.'
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the autopilot of his fingers.
— Well, it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift… (Bueno, así va, el cuarto, el quinto, el tono menor que cae, el mayor que se alza...)
'A fall. That's how I feel when I remember the chilling content of my visions. A perpetual fall. I know the steps of this cursed dance: Seven Masters, Seven Servants, betrayal, pain. I know it and I feel powerless. I am a spectator of my own borrowed life. I cannot run towards that future. I need… to stop staring into the abyss and find the ground beneath my feet. Something here, now, that is mine. But what can be mine? Not the memories, not the name, not the destiny. Perhaps only this: the movement of my fingers at this instant, the choice of this note, the whisper of this word. It's little. But it's a start. An act not foretold by any vision. A small point of personal creation on a canvas painted by others.'
A wave of frustration— not sadness, but rage at his bondage— tensed his arm. The sound cracked. For the first time, his face showed acute conflict: a furrowed brow, a gaze fixed on an inner horizon full of paths he refused to walk.
— The baffled king composing Hallelujah… (El rey desconcertado componiendo Aleluya...)
'A baffled king. Without a kingdom. This body, this house, this name… are a poisoned legacy. The Shirou before the fire died. I am the intruder. A boy who forgot his own name; one whom Kiritsugu named Shirou Emiya. And I must find my own note amidst this symphony of alien destinies. I don't need a hero. I need to be someone. Someone like who? Not like the Shirou from the visions, obsessed with an impossible ideal. Not like Kiritsugu, consumed by the pragmatism of the scales. Perhaps… someone who can see the horror approaching and still choose a different melody. Someone who can hold a violin after having held a sword. The contradiction is terrifying. And yet, the violin is here, in my hands, and it is real.'
— Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Halleluuujah… (Aleluya, Aleluya, Aleluya. Aleluuuya)
He let the last note fade, not as an ending, but as a question suspended in the air.
'Music gives no answers… but for a few minutes the noise in my head ceased. It's not an anchor, but it's… a respite. An empty space where I exist. Maybe, for now, that's enough. It's more than enough. It's a revelation: I can create something that isn't chaos or fear. I can create beauty, even if it's sad. And if I can create this, perhaps, in time, I can also create a "self" worth being.'
A timid smile, the first genuine one since the fire, touched his lips. The weight of the future, for an instant, did not weigh.
— Bravo!— A voice burst out behind him, followed by exaggerated applause.
Shirou turned. Taiga was running towards him, her smile as broad and carefree as always.
— That was incredible, Shirou-chan! I didn't know you could play! Is it… is it a memory coming back?-
The cascade of questions began but stopped short. Taiga stared at his face. She didn't see the usual reserve, the distant look. She saw a trace of peace, and that small smile. It was so different that it completely disarmed her.
— Good afternoon, Taiga-san. I thought you weren't coming today— Said Shirou, and his voice sounded softer, less tense.
— It's "onee-chan" for you!— She retorted, recovering and attempting her customary "intimidating" look, the one that always made him yield.
But this time, Shirou did not lower his gaze. He held hers with a newfound calm.
— Alright. Thank you for coming, Taiga onee-chan.
Taiga blinked, surprised. Not by the deference, but by the subtle warmth that wrapped the words. For an instant, the mask of the boisterous big sister cracked, revealing a young woman who sometimes felt a little lonely in a house too big.
— Well, it's… it's nothing— She murmured, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. For once, the whirlwind calmed.— Seriously, you played very well. It hardly seemed like you. It reminded me of… well, when my grandfather played the shamisen. He also had that look, as if for a moment he went somewhere else. A calmer place.
— I don't know how I did it— Shirou confessed, looking at the violin.— It just… happened. It's strange. It's as if my hands knew, but I didn't.
— Then it's a gift— Taiga declared, regaining her energy, but with a gentler tone.— And you have to use it! Besides, it's good to have something like that. Something that is just yours, you know? You could play at the school festival!
Shirou did not respond to the idea, but his smile did not fade. Taiga's phrase resonated within him. "Something that is just yours". That was exactly what he had been thinking. It was as if she, without intending to, had put her finger on the wound of his search. He said nothing, but nodded slowly, tucking the idea away in a corner of his mind. That afternoon, they chatted sitting on the engawa until the sky turned orange. For the first time, Shirou was not just a silent spectator to Taiga's monologue. He interjected with short questions, with timid comments. It wasn't a deep conversation, but it was real. He asked about her grandfather, and she spoke with an unusual fondness, without exaggerations. He, in turn, talked about the strange sensation of playing the violin, of how the sound seemed to take a little of the fog from his head. It was a simple exchange, but for Shirou, it was a bridge stretched over the void he felt inside. And in the normality of that moment, in the warmth of the setting sun and the sound of a strident yet sincere laugh, Shirou found, without seeking it, a first and fragile foothold in the present.
A foothold that, for now, took the form of companionship and a dusty violin.
***
Glossary of Chapter Terms
"Tatami": Padded matting on which some sports are performed, such as judo or karate.
"Engawa": In Japanese, engawa is a word that could be translated as "intermediate space." For architects, it is the place that connects a house with nature.
"Onee-chan": A Japanese word meaning "big sister," said to someone to show affection and respect. It is the counterpart of Onii-chan, "big brother."
"Kendo": A modern Japanese sport/martial art, descended from swordsmanship (kenjutsu), which uses bamboo swords (shinai or bokken) and protective armor (bōgu). It is widely practiced in Japan and many other nations today.
"Karinto": A traditional Japanese sweet made primarily of flour and sugar.
"Shamisen": A three-stringed musical instrument, native to Japan, consisting of a rectangular resonance box and three strings, played with a large ivory plectrum.
[IMG Taiga]