The room was quiet now.
The comforting hum of Velgrath's nighttime bustle lay muffled behind thick stone walls and a single shuttered window. Shirou exhaled slowly, a hand running through his hair as he glanced around the modest room. The warmth of the bed, the soothing light, and the silence after a day of walking the crowded streets—it was everything he needed.
But first… a bath.
He turned toward the bathroom, but not before catching sight of Nana mid-yawn, rubbing her sleepy eyes with the back of her hand.
"Sleepy?" he asked softly.
She nodded, another yawn escaping her lips before she trudged toward the bed like a little soldier returning from a long march.
Shirou chuckled quietly as he pulled the covers back for her. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a bit."
Without waiting for further encouragement, Nana crawled onto the bed, curled into a tight ball, and was fast asleep in seconds. Her quiet breathing filled the room with a calming rhythm.
Shirou undressed and stepped into the small bathroom, splashing cold water onto himself from a bucket. The chill bit into his skin—but it was refreshing. After the sweat and grime of the day, it felt like redemption. He closed his eyes and let the coolness wash over his face and chest, washing away the fatigue.
With a flick of his fingers, tiny crimson flames spiralled gently across his body, drying him instantly. He pulled on a fresh set of clothes: a blue shirt and dark trousers. Practical, clean, unassuming.
When he returned, Nana was still curled up under the sheets, her small figure barely making a dent in the mattress. The sight pulled at something deep in him.
He gently pulled the covers up to her shoulders and tucked her in.
Then, quietly, he walked to the mirror.
His reflection stared back—golden eyes tinged with something he couldn't name. Weariness? Resolve? Maybe both. He tied his black hair back, letting the strands in front fall messily across his forehead.
"Perfect," he muttered.
He laid out a thin sheet on the wooden floor and lowered himself down. The room darkened as he blew out the lantern. For a while, he just stared at the ceiling, his mind circling the thoughts he had refused to entertain until now.
Tomorrow, he thought. It begins again.
Then darkness embraced him.
---
Morning arrived slower than he expected. The three suns had already crept up the sky by the time his eyes fluttered open. The light from the window glowed golden, bathing the room in warmth.
"Damn," Shirou muttered, sitting up quickly. "Overslept."
Nana was still nestled under the covers, her small frame rising and falling with each breath. For a moment, he simply stood there and watched her. Something stirred within him—a quiet ache. He wasn't sure what to call it.
He splashed his face with water from the basin and tied his hair back again. Staring into the mirror, he whispered, "Perfect."
But his heart felt far from it.
He turned to Nana. The time had come.
Quietly, he stepped out.
---
Hours passed before he returned, his hands holding warm packets of street food. As he entered the room, his breath caught—Nana was gone.
"Shit… no."
His heart raced as he darted forward, scanning the room.
Then—
Something tugged at the hem of his trousers.
He looked down.
Nana.
"You really need to stop wandering," Shirou said, his voice half-stern, half-relieved.
"You really need to look at your surroundings better," she shot back, arms crossed with a mischievous smirk.
Shirou blinked. Is she really only six years old? He thought. She was too sharp. Too perceptive. But harmless.
He sighed. "Come on. I brought food."
They sat cross-legged on the floor and ate in silence—warm bread stuffed with roasted meat and seasoned roots. Nana happily munched, licking her fingers after every bite.
Once the meal was done, Shirou rose and handed her the pink frock. "Get dressed. We're heading out."
Nana grinned, quickly slipping into the frock. She twirled once before the mirror, giggling at how the hem swirled with her.
Shirou stood behind her. "Nana," he said softly. "I got you something."
She turned, her eyes full of curiosity.
From his pocket, he drew a thin silver necklace. At its center hung a small, smooth crystal—clear, but shimmering faintly in the light.
Her eyes widened. "You remembered!"
"I promised, didn't I?"
He fastened it around her neck. She held the crystal up, watching how the light danced through it, then beamed at her reflection.
"Come on," Shirou said. "We've got a surprise waiting."
---
The streets of Velgrath were alive with a thousand voices. The morning chaos had matured into a steady hum of trade and life. They wandered through markets, browsed toy stalls, and even stopped at a juggler's performance in the plaza.
At Nana's insistence, Shirou bought her a small stuffed lion, a wooden flute, and a paper windmill that spun whenever she ran.
Eventually, they arrived at a quiet, green space tucked between rows of townhouses and tall oaks—a park, where children ran barefoot across the grass.
Nana's eyes lit up. Without a word, she ran forward and joined the laughter and games, seamlessly blending into the crowd of children.
Shirou sat on a bench and watched her play, her pink dress a blur among the trees. For a while, he allowed himself to relax.
---
Evening came. The lanterns blinked to life one by one, casting golden halos down every street. Food stalls blossomed on corners, scents of fried herbs, candied fruits, and roasted meats filling the air.
Nana tugged at his sleeve and pointed at a sweet.
"That one!"
They walked the stalls, tasting and laughing. Shirou even let her try a sugary drink that turned her tongue blue.
And then—quietly, without fanfare—they reached the gate.
It stood tall and iron-wrought, the symbol of the orphanage etched into the stone arch above it. Two guards nodded as they passed.
The grounds were vast and well-kept. Children played even now, some waving at Nana.
An elderly man approached, his robes neat, his back straight despite his age. His eyes were kind but watchful.
"Is this her?" he asked.
"Yes," Shirou said.
He crouched before Nana and met her gaze.
"Hey, why don't you stay here for a while? There are other kids your age here. You'll have fun."
She looked up at him, her brows knitting. "Where are you going?"
Shirou hesitated. "Me? I… I'm going to find your father and brother. But I need you to stay here until then. Okay?"
She didn't answer right away. Then—quietly—"When will you come back?"
He forced a smile. "Soon. I promise."
Her shoulders sagged. "Okay…"
The old man gently took her hand. Nana clutched her stuffed lion in the other, the necklace glinting around her neck.
Shirou watched as they walked toward the doors of the orphanage.
He stayed there for a long moment, the laughter of children behind the gates contrasting with the weight in his chest.
And all he could whisper to himself were three simple words:
"I am sorry."