(Shirou POV)
"I told you! You should really think about it!" Sella shouted, clearly irritated by the uninterested look on her sister's face.
Illya, however, was lounging on the couch, watching TV with Leysritt, completely ignoring Sella's rant.
Really? Is dating me really that bad for her to react like that?
I glanced at Sella and spoke up. "Why are you taking Leysritt's words so seriously anyway?"
"I am serious, Shirou-kun," Leysritt replied, catching me completely off guard.
My face felt hot, but I forced myself to calm down.
Sella, already annoyed from the start, shot me a murderous glare. "Shut up."
I raised both hands in defeat. "Well, too bad. I already have a girlfriend. But if you don't mind me having two girlfriends, I might date you."
Of course that's a lie. I never dated anyone before.
The moment I finished speaking, I didn't wait for their reaction and burst out laughing.
"YOU!" Sella lunged at me.
BAM!
I slammed the living room door in escape. The loud thud echoed through the hallway with Sella slamming her face in the door.
I let out a small laugh and shook my head.
That's payback for every punch I got whenever you went on a diet.
I walked toward the bathroom and fixed myself up, still amused.
When I returned to the living room, Sella was glaring at me with pure hatred, but she didn't do anything. I ignored her and headed into the kitchen, where I happened to overhear my mother's voice.
"I kind of want to meet Maiya-san. It's been a long time since I last saw her," Irisviel said cheerfully while looking at her phone.
Kiritsugu, who had been typing something on his laptop, glanced up at her. "She'll visit us later," he replied calmly.
Ignoring my parents' conversation, I opened the refrigerator and took out the ingredients. Since it was the weekend, I decided to prepare breakfast for everyone, and lunch as well.
I had a part-time job later, and honestly, I doubted those self-proclaimed maids would cook anything remotely healthy for Illya. It was better to leave something ready that they could just reheat.
Behind me, Kiritsugu and Irisviel continued talking, their voices fading into background noise as I focused on my task.
"Shirou, what are you planning to do in the future?" Kiritsugu asked.
I paused and looked at him.
Even with that calm, unreadable expression, I could tell he was worried. That frozen face hid too much pain, too many things he had never said out loud.
"I'm not going to become the so-called hero of justice," I replied, forcing a smile. Forcing it to look real.
Like hell I would become Archer.
Just thinking about him made my chest tighten.
Having that man's memories alone was already too much. Even holding a knife could trigger it, the phantom sensation of blood blooming across my vision, the thick, sticky metallic stench clinging to my hands even when there was nothing there.
The weight of killing so many people pressed heavily on my mind.
But in the end, I wasn't the one who did those things.
That was my future self.
Not me.
Is this what she felt when she found out she was the main reason the city we grew up in ended up in ruins?
I suddenly found myself missing them. Shaking my head, I refused to think any further about it.
Bracing myself. I swear that would find a way to go back.
When I looked up, Kiritsugu remained unfazed, as always, until Irisviel gently elbowed him. She turned to me with her usual sweet smile, though a hint of worry soon surfaced.
"Shirou," she said softly, "does that future of yours weigh on you that much?"
"Don't worry," I replied. "In the end, the future isn't absolute. There are countless timelines, different paths. I won't become a so-called hero of justice in this life."
I tried to reassure my mother, who had always been kind, always gentle.
She stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace, holding me for a long moment before letting go.
"I see," she said quietly. "If something is troubling you, please tell us. We're still your parents, and you're still our beloved son."
"Yes." A small smile formed on my face.
This life, it was truly peaceful.
Then, I suddenly remembered something.
"Kiritsugu, can I have the Yamaha VMAX in the garage?"
Kiritsugu's ears perked up as he thought for a moment. "You can have it, but why don't we just buy a new one? That thing's basically junk now. It's been sitting in the garage for thirteen years."
I shook my head. I could modify it, bring it up to the standards of my original world.
That world was far more advanced, where battleships could fly through the sky and A.I could control them.
But back then, I wasn't a fighter. I left the fighting to the girls and chose another role instead. I learned how to build weapons, how to repair and modified them, and figure how to help from the sidelines rather than stand on the battlefield. Becoming their caretaker, in a way.
It sucks having only slightly above-average resistance to corruption.
You watch your friend risk their life to save the world, while all you can do is dull their pain and take care of their everyday life.
With Trace On and Reinforcement, I was confident. I can recreate those techs.
I looked at Kiritsugu, who seemed taken aback by my sudden enthusiasm.
"No need," I said firmly. "I'll modify that bike and rebuild it from scratch."
Kiritsugu picked up his phone and glanced at me. "I've sent one hundred million yen to your bank account."
My mouth hung open. Did this man really just give me a hundred million yen like it was nothing?
"That's too much," I said honestly.
"Fufufu~" Irisviel giggled.
"Shirou, it's fine. You rarely ask us for money. You even take part-time jobs because you don't want to trouble us."
Her voice softened. "But sometimes, we want you to rely on us too. We're still your parents, and you're still our beloved son. If you don't…"
She smiled gently, a faint loneliness showing through. "It gets lonely all of a sudden."
I didn't have an answer for that.
_______________________
Walking out of the train station, I headed toward my part-time job and ended up spotting someone familiar.
"Yo, Iroha, you heading there too?" I asked.
Having the original memories helped when interacting with people who knew the original me. Without them, it would've been hard to pretend I didn't remember anything at all.
Now that I think about it, does this mean I'm a reincarnated person rather than a transmigrated one?
I have his memories, yet I only recovered my own just yesterday.
I died in my past life saving my friends… and my habits are disturbingly similar to Shirou's.
While I was still lost in thought, someone suddenly stepped in front of me.
"Iroha—"
"Did you finish thinking?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
She was Iroha Sakayoki—my coworker, classmate, and friend. A diligent student. A school role model.
Someone I'd grown used to seeing beside me far too often after we joined the same crew at work.
She matched my pace as we started walking again. "By the way, did you log in yesterday? I haven't seen you playing lately."
Letting out a tired sigh, I glanced at her. "A lot happened. My parents came back yesterday after being gone for years."
Her eyes widened just a little. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's still strange," I said. "But my sister and I are happy they're finally home."
"I see…" She slowed down, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. For a moment, she didn't look at me.
Then, almost as if she'd made up her mind—
"Um… are you free next weekend?"
The words came out too fast.
Her face flushed immediately. "I-I mean—! Forget it. You don't have to answer."
She waved her hands in a panic, clearly regretting it the moment it left her mouth.
Next weekend?
Now that I think about it. I still needed to study physics and history, since this world was different from mine and far behind in terms of technology.
"I still need to study," I said slowly.
She nodded, disappointment flickering across her face before she caught herself.
"But," I added, "I think I'm free."
She froze.
"If you want to go somewhere," I continued, "I'm in."
For half a second, she just stared at me. Then
"That's a promise," she said softly.
"L-let's go," she said quickly, tugging me forward. "We'll be late if we keep walking this slowly."
It didn't take long before we arrived at the entrance of our workplace—yet for some reason, it felt like the shortest walk I'd ever taken.