January 15, 2004
Fuyuki City, Shinto District
Copenhagen Bar
A 17-year-old boy, Shirou Emiya, stood upright behind the bar counter, serving drinks to each customer who walked in.
Although some regulars were surprised to see the boy, they quickly understood after hearing his explanation.
"Oh, so it's because they caught a cold and are bedridden? That old man Hotaruzuka's getting up there in age—it's no surprise his body's weakening... Ayako-chan must've caught it from him too. Be careful, Emiya-kun. Getting a cold this time of year is the worst."
One of the regulars, who was on good terms with the bar owner, gave him a friendly warning with a chuckle.
This small bar, which also functioned as a liquor store, was run by Mr. Hotaruzuka and his daughter, Ayako Hotaruzuka.
Five years ago, when Shirou's adoptive father Kiritsugu Emiya passed away, this was the only place that allowed a child like him to work part-time. So, upon hearing the father and daughter were sick and bedridden, he had taken the initiative to help out.
"I'm fine. When I visited earlier, Ayako-neesan said she should recover by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, huh? Hahaha, that's good to hear. It just doesn't feel the same without Ayako-chan... Ah, no offense to you, Emiya-kun. We're just used to her being here."
"I understand what you mean, Mr. Takeda."
"Hehe, alright then—two cans of beer for today."
"Coming right up."
"..."
Once all the customers had left, Shirou finally let out a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand.
"Phew~ I survived the busiest part of the night. So many people come to buy drinks in the evening."
"Come to think of it, the same thing happened last year when Ayako-neesan and her dad were down with a cold. At least I've got some experience now... Otherwise, I would've totally panicked tonight."
"But being this busy made me lose track of time. It's already 10 PM... Fujimura-san is definitely going to lecture me when I get home... Better finish cleaning and close up. There probably won't be many more customers."
After a short rest, Shirou began wiping the bar counter, arranging the chairs and tables, and doing final clean-up before closing.
Though his foster father was gone and his real parents had died in a large fire, Shirou was under the care of a guardian.
Her name was Taiga Fujimura, an English teacher who, apart from returning to her own home to sleep, basically lived at Shirou's house. Still, if Shirou came home late because of work, she wouldn't hesitate to scold him.
Just as he was nearly finished tidying up, the door opened—and a new customer walked in.
"Wow~ what a lovely bar. Such a peaceful vibe, the lighting is gentle... although... I think I came at the wrong time. Are you already closed?"
The voice was soft and sweet. But when Shirou turned to look, he saw the woman was wearing a hooded black cloak, completely concealing her face and figure.
It was... an extremely suspicious outfit.
Even though he found it odd, Shirou greeted her with a polite smile, just as he would any other customer.
The mysterious woman looked at Shirou's face, and upon seeing it, smiled faintly as though she had discovered something.
"You've worked hard, young... hero of justice."
"..."
Shirou froze for a moment.
He didn't recognize this woman—yet somehow, she had spoken the very words that revealed the ideal in his heart.
Shirou's dream of becoming a hero of justice was born from admiration for the man who saved him—his adoptive father.
It wasn't just something he wrote about in a grade-school essay; it was an ideal he tried to live out in every small action of his daily life.
But he rarely ever spoke about this to others. So when this woman mentioned it so casually, Shirou's instincts kicked in—he grew wary.
"Ah, you seem surprised. Hehe. Don't worry, I mean you no harm... I only came here because someone asked me to."
Sensing the suspicion in his eyes, the woman offered a gentle smile, trying to reassure him.
However, her words only made Shirou more puzzled.
"Did you come here for something?"
"I was asked by an old man," she replied, extending her elegant right hand and offering a bracelet. "He told me to deliver this gift... to Shirou Emiya."
"A gift?"
"I don't know what kind of gift it is either... but please, take it."
Her tone was sincere, so Shirou lowered his guard slightly and turned his attention to the bracelet—simple and unadorned.
He reached out, planning to take a closer look—but the moment his fingers touched it...
"Huh?"
The mysterious woman—and the bracelet—vanished without a trace.
What just happened?
After standing in a daze for a few seconds, Shirou quickly checked around him and even examined his body.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
—No, there was something.
"Is that... bruising?"
Dark marks resembling bruises had formed on the back of his right hand. They looked strange, almost disturbing, but he didn't feel any pain.
"Am I just exhausted from working too much? Was that... all a hallucination? Well, Ayako-neesan's going to recover tomorrow anyway. I'll just take a full day off and rest."
He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and grabbed a cloth from behind the counter to wipe his hand.
The red markings, coiled like little snakes, faded away completely. They didn't look like bruises after all—maybe he had just touched some red dye while cleaning.
"Anyway... as long as I'm fine, that's what matters."
With that, Shirou changed out of his work uniform, locked up, and stepped out into the winter night.
The cold wind brushed against his collarbone, making him shiver.
"Damn, it's cold..."
Since it was getting so late, he walked home at a brisk pace.
But...
As Shirou walked away from Shinto, a mysterious woman stood atop the highest building in the district, silently watching him leave.
"Mmm~ with that, I've fulfilled that annoying old man's request. The magical artifact's been delivered to Shirou."
The wind picked up, blowing off her hood.
Her face was revealed—a beauty so surreal it made the world around her feel like a dream. Her silver hair shimmered, and her eyes bloomed like flowers.
"Still, asking me to deliver it personally... saying if he showed up himself, it might awaken the big spider... What a coward. For a Magus, he's so overly cautious."
"But this was worth it. Shirou Emiya—the unripe hero of justice... I think I'll take it upon myself to watch over his growth from the shadows."
Smiling, she spoke to no one but herself.
And once her words faded, only a fragrant flower remained atop the rooftop, gently swaying in the wind.
...
Because he was eager to get home, Shirou walked at a pace faster than usual. He crossed Fuyuki Bridge and made his way to Miyama Town, where the Emiya residence was located.
Built into the hills, Miyama Town was an old district mostly occupied by residential areas. It was generally quiet and peaceful, with a uniquely calm atmosphere. In that regard, it stood in stark contrast to Shinto, the new city district, which had become a bustling urban jungle of steel and glass—even vibrant at night.
Much of Shinto's rapid development was, ironically, due to the great fire ten years ago.
—That sudden blaze had engulfed nearly all of Shinto. It was only after a decade of reconstruction that the city rose from the ashes as a forest of concrete and steel.
It was also during that fire that Shirou's birth parents and their home were consumed by the flames, leaving him the sole survivor. He was later adopted by Kiritsugu Emiya, who had been living in Miyama Town at the time.
So, "Emiya" wasn't his original surname. But what was his real one?
Shirou couldn't answer that.
The fire had sealed away his past memories—or perhaps, more accurately... the Shirou from ten years ago had already died.
What survived wasn't really him, but a remnant—a shell that had taken on the name Shirou Emiya.
Lost in these fragmented thoughts, Shirou climbed the silent hill and reached the Emiya residence—a large traditional Japanese-style house. Since his adoptive father Kiritsugu had no relatives in Japan, the house was inherited by Shirou.
"Fujimura-san's already gone home?" he wondered aloud as he opened the front gate and stepped inside. Seeing the empty entryway, Shirou nodded to himself. "It's pretty late... I guess this will count as tonight's final bit of training. Time to rest."
He took off his shoes and made his way to the living room to confirm that the house was indeed empty.
"On the table... curry?"
Something was different, though. A plate of curry had been left out on the table, and judging by the presentation, Shirou could tell it had been made by Sakura Matou, his underclassman.
—Sakura, a gentle and beautiful girl one year younger than him, came to his house every morning and evening to help with cooking.
—Their bond began ten years ago, when they first met during the great fire. Since then, even through wind and storm, Sakura had shown up without fail, every single day.
To Shirou, Sakura and Fujimura Taiga were as much family to him as anyone else.
"Thanks, Sakura."
Grateful for the meal she had left, Shirou, seeing how late it was, didn't heat it up. Instead, he sealed the curry and placed it in the fridge.
"Come to think of it, ever since we met, she's always loved curry."
...
Leaving the living room, Shirou stepped directly into the backyard. His gaze turned toward a storage shed in the corner.
The shed was cluttered with all sorts of scrap metal and broken appliances.
But aside from its role as a storage space, it also served as Shirou's training ground for magic.
Though on the surface he was just an ordinary 17-year-old high schooler, Shirou Emiya was, in truth, a magus.
—To study mysteries, perform miracles, and seek the Root of the world—such was the pursuit of a true magus.
Even though Shirou lacked talent in magecraft, and had only managed to learn one or two simple and mostly useless basic spells, that had never stopped his training. His nightly practice had become part of his daily life.
"Huff... clear your mind. Don't let the distractions in."
Sitting cross-legged in the shed, Shirou lightly slapped both cheeks and began regulating his breathing, guiding himself into a calm, meditative state.
Magic training requires unwavering focus. Complete concentration was necessary. Even a moment of distraction could cause the spell to fail.
"————Trace, On."
Eyes shut, he whispered the words—an incantation of self-hypnosis. Following his usual training method, he attempted to construct a circuit that could draw in mana from the outside world.
In proper magecraft terminology, this was called a Magic Circuit.
But forming a circuit was a painful and dangerous task.
Every time Shirou tried to create one, it felt as if a red-hot iron rod was being driven deep into his back—until it touched and fused with his nerves.
That was where the danger lay. If he lost focus even slightly during the process, the circuit could go berserk, harming his body in irreversible ways.
Kiritsugu had warned him of this.
"Ngh..."
Even though he had grown used to the pain, a groan still escaped his lips. He clenched his teeth and endured.
It was a visceral, unavoidable reaction—the body's instinct to resist.
Fortunately, tonight's attempt went smoothly—Shirou successfully constructed a Magic Circuit.
—The quantity and quality of Magic Circuits are closely tied to one's talent and bloodline. However, Shirou lacked natural aptitude and came from an ordinary, non-magical family. So every time, he could only manage to construct a single circuit.
That, he believed, was his limit.
Creating a circuit was only the first step. What came next was the application of the one form of magecraft he had managed to learn: Reinforcement Magic.
Tonight's training objective was to increase the hardness of the iron rod lying before him using that spell.
"—Basic structure, analyze."
"—Material composition, analyze."
He continued chanting his incantation. A faint light began to glow from the back of Shirou's hand—proof that mana was flowing through him.
He placed both hands on the iron rod, and the moment he touched it, a precise diagram of its internal structure flashed into his mind.
He fully understood the rod's construction. The next step was to identify points where mana could be infused and perform temporary structural enhancement.
Now came the final step—input the mana. If the strengthening succeeded, the training would be complete.
"...Ngh."
But tonight, something completely unexpected occurred.
From the back of his right hand, where the bruising from earlier had been wiped away, a mark began to emerge—like a tattoo, glowing faintly.
The mana he intended to flow into the iron rod was entirely absorbed by this mark. It pulsed with a crimson light, like it had become the true source drawing in the energy.
Something's wrong.
Shirou, with his eyes still closed, didn't notice the mark's appearance—but his body certainly did. He could feel the mana spinning out of control from within.
All he knew was that if he didn't regain control, this body of his wouldn't last.
"...It stopped?"
To his surprise, the out-of-control mana suddenly calmed down in an instant.
Shirou, who had been bracing himself for disaster, was left stunned.
But before he had a chance to catch his breath, he felt a massive force, something irresistible, pulling at him—like he was being swallowed by a black hole.
He immediately opened his eyes—only then did he finally notice the glowing red mark on the back of his hand.
"What is this—?"
But he had no time to even voice his confusion. The invisible force dragged away his consciousness, and in that moment, Emiya Shirou fell unconscious.
His body was swallowed by an unseen presence, and in the next instant, he vanished from the shed without a trace.
...
Fairy Calendar, Year 4000
Orkney, Northern Britain
Deep within the palace of Orkney, nestled far from prying eyes, lay a silent library—untouched and serene.
Amidst the gentle tapping of rain outside, a golden-haired girl in a long dress and round-rimmed glasses stood quietly beside a bookshelf, leisurely flipping through the pages of an old tome.
Her name was Viviane.
To the outside world, she was known as the Princess of the Rain Clan. As usual, she was here—gently poring over the pages that chronicled the history of the fairies.
—But "Viviane" was only her Fairy Name. Her true name was Morgan, and her real identity was that of a Fairy from the Paradise of the Inner Sea of the Stars.
Though she had been born in Orkney, Britain, the fairies of Orkney raised her with great care. The Queen of Orkney even treated her like royalty—as a true princess.
If nothing unusual occurred, her day would pass quietly within this library, unchanged, until the next morning brought something new.
But then—
"The wand... is trembling?"
What disrupted her peaceful concentration was the wand lying beside her.
A wooden staff embedded with a precious ruby, bound with silver chains—and now, it began to tremble uncontrollably.
Viviane, well-versed in the wand's origins, instantly sensed something unusual. Curious, she reached out and grasped it.
And in the very next moment, a surge of strange magic surged from the wand's tip.
Then, without warning—a rift opened.
"Huh?"
Startled, the girl looked toward the hole that had formed in midair...
...and from it, a human tumbled out.
A boy, unconscious, with red hair—clearly no fairy.
To Viviane—who had spent her life protected within the Rain Clan's embrace—the sudden appearance of a human boy was nothing short of extraordinary.
And above all, it ignited her deepest curiosity.