As the days went by, the guest room of the Fujimura Mansion seemed to become a secluded haven. Under Fujimura Taiga's day-after-day care, the scars on the surface of Emiya Kiritsugu's body gradually healed, and his spirit seemed to stabilize somewhat, no longer on the brink of a terrified collapse as he had been at the beginning. However, a deeper, more hidden erosion was quietly occurring.
He continued to eat the meals Taiga meticulously prepared every day. The taste was consistently delicious, even becoming more savory as Taiga's skills "improved." But he did not notice that his body was moving toward weakness at an extremely slow, almost imperceptible speed. His energy was not what it used to be; he occasionally felt a mysterious exhaustion and dizziness, and his sleep became deeper and heavier, sometimes making it difficult to wake up. He attributed these subtle changes to the recovery phase following his psychological trauma and the exhaustion accumulated over a long time, never looking deeper. His broken soul was greedily absorbing the warmth Taiga brought, and this brief "peace" numbed his instinctive alertness as a killer and a Magician.
On the other side, the "friendship" between Fujimura Taiga and Kanjuro heated up rapidly. The kitchen time after school every day became her secret expectation. Kanjuro always appeared on time, bringing a smile as refreshing as a spring breeze and an endless array of cooking techniques. He taught patiently, spoke humorously, and occasionally used perfectly timed physical contact—such as lightly leaning over her from behind while demonstrating how to chop vegetables, or helping her wipe away a bit of flour accidentally stuck to her cheek—all of which made Taiga's heart race and her face flush red.
One day, the setting sun dyed the kitchen a warm orange. Kanjuro watched as Taiga carefully plated the finished Tamagoyaki, preparing to leave it for the "Uncle" at home. He suddenly sighed softly, his tone carrying a perfectly measured hint of loss and grievance:
"Taiga," he called her name, his voice low and magnetic, "you're so dedicated to cooking for someone else every day... I'm going to get jealous."
Taiga was focused on her movements, and her hand shook at his words, nearly breaking the Tamagoyaki. She looked up abruptly, meeting Kanjuro's eyes—eyes that seemed to hold stars and whirlpools—and her face turned completely red in an instant, her heart thumping wildly.
"Ye... Kanjuro! Don't... don't talk nonsense!" she stammered in rebuttal, trying to hide her internal panic with a fierce tone. "That Uncle is very pitiful! I'm just... just helping him! And... 283... and..."
"And what?" Kanjuro took a step forward, closing the distance, and his crisp, pleasant scent instantly surrounded Taiga. He lowered his head, staring at her with burning eyes filled with heart-wrenching tenderness and inquiry.
Taiga felt completely exposed under his gaze, her mind went blank, and the emotions she had suppressed in her heart for so long burst out like a flood breaking a dam:
"And the person I like is you!! You idiot!!"
After shouting this sentence, her entire body froze. She was so ashamed she wanted to find a hole to crawl into, not daring to look at Kanjuro's expression at all.
After a brief silence, Kanjuro's low and pleasant chuckle came from above. The laughter was like a feather brushing against her heart, filled with endless indulgence.
"Silly girl," he said softly, reaching out to pull her into his arms with a gentle but irresistible strength.
Taiga's body stiffened for a moment, then completely softened in his warm embrace. She could clearly hear his steady heartbeat and feel the strength of his hold. Then, he leaned down slightly, and his warm lips gently covered hers.
The afterglow of the setting sun filtered through the window, coating the embracing pair in a golden halo. Time seemed to stand still at this moment. This kiss was not intense, but it carried a solemn, almost promise-like tenderness that instantly shattered all of Taiga's defenses.
After an unknown amount of time, Kanjuro slowly released her. Taiga's cheeks were crimson and her eyes were moist as she buried her face in his chest, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "Tha... thank you, Kanjuro... thank you for understanding me..."
She gathered her courage and looked up, her eyes flickering with happiness and a hint of unease: "Um... some other day, I'll take you to see that Uncle, okay? He... he's a bit strange, but he shouldn't be a bad person..."
Kanjuro still wore that flawless, gentle smile. He lightly stroked her hair, his gaze as deep as an ancient well:
"It's fine, no rush. We'll talk about it when you feel the time is right." He paused and added, "As long as you're happy."
His answer was considerate and generous, completely soothing the last trace of concern in Taiga's heart. She was immersed in the sweetness and happiness of her first love, entirely unaware of where this "sweetness" was leading her, (caaf) and even less did she know that the "pitiful Uncle" she wanted to introduce to Kanjuro was the mortal enemy of the gentle and considerate lover in her arms.
And that "meal of love" she delivered every day was exactly the sweet poison Kanjuro had carefully formulated to slowly erode Emiya Kiritsugu's life and will.
Kanjuro held the girl who was drowning in false happiness, his gaze passing over the top of her head to look at the night falling outside the window, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold and pleasant arc.
The prey was cheerfully and actively delivering both himself and the person he wanted to protect into the predator's mouth.
This play was becoming more and more interesting. Under Fujimura Taiga's unwitting care and the influence of the "seasoning" Kanjuro had quietly added, Emiya Kiritsugu's body was like a tree being slowly hollowed out; it appeared to be recovering on the outside, but it was growing weaker by the day on the inside. However, a strange emotion began to sprout within this daily-declining shell—a long-lost impulse to return a kindness.
One afternoon, taking advantage of Taiga being at school, he forced his exhausted and aching body to quietly leave the Fujimura Mansion. He avoided the crowds and, in a nearby abandoned small park, used his trembling hands to carefully pick a small bouquet of wild flowers growing stubbornly in a corner. They weren't particularly bright and were even a bit withered, but this was currently the only gift he could offer to represent his gratitude. He didn't dare have any improper thoughts; he simply... wanted her to know that her kindness was remembered.
When Taiga returned from school and saw the slightly shabby but meticulously arranged bouquet of wild flowers on the low table, she was stunned. Then, an indescribable warm current surged into her heart, and a smile more brilliant than the flowers bloomed on her face.
"Uncle! Did you pick these? They're so beautiful!" She picked up the bouquet in surprise, treating it like some sort of treasure. "Thank you!"
Seeing Taiga's unconcealed joy, Emiya Kiritsugu's pale and haggard face managed to pull into an extremely faint but incredibly genuine smile. He nodded without speaking, but in the dead wasteland of his eyes, a tiny bit of green seemed to appear.
Taiga happily put the flowers into an old vase and carefully placed them on the sun-facing windowsill of the room. The afterglow of the setting sun spilled over the petals, adding a rare touch of vitality and warmth to the simple room. Emiya Kiritsugu watched quietly, and in the cold ruins of his heart, a sliver of light seemed to shine in.
However, this brief, fragile warmth was as breakable as a bubble.
At the very moment Kiritsugu was picking the flowers, people arranged by Kanjuro had already skillfully delivered the news to the executives of the Fujimura Group who were loyal to the leader (Taiga's father): "Fujimura Taiga is in close contact with an unidentified and suspicious-looking man who is currently hiding in the Fujimura Group Mansion."
Not long after night fell, the guest room door was violently pulled open. Several cold-faced, burly members of the yakuza burst in. The middle-aged man leading them had a face of iron, exuding an air of authority without needing to be angry—he was Fujimura Taiga's biological father, the Fujimura Group Leader.
"Is it you? The fellow pestering my daughter!" The Fujimura Group Leader's gaze was like a knife, cutting into Emiya Kiritsugu, who was curled in the corner, his face pale from weakness and the sudden shock.
"Papa?! Why are you here?!" Taiga rushed in at the sound, stunned by the scene before her.
"Shut up!" The Fujimura Group Leader barked at his daughter. He looked Emiya Kiritsugu up and down, seeing his wretched, weak, and shifty appearance, and his anger burned even hotter. "Look at this pathetic state of yours! You dare get close to the daughter of the Fujimura family?! Beat him! Make him recognize his place!"
At the command, several subordinates immediately stepped forward. Without a word, their fists and feet fell upon Emiya Kiritsugu like raindrops. He was already weak and had no power to resist; he could only curl his body to protect his vitals and endure this unprovoked disaster. Pain washed over his entire body, but he clenched his teeth and didn't scream. He only used his hollow eyes to look through the gaps of the swinging arms at Taiga's terrified, anxious, yet powerless face.
"Stop hitting him! Papa! Stop! He's not a bad person! He's just..." Taiga tried to rush forward to stop them but was firmly held back by her father.
After a severe beating, Emiya Kiritsugu was black and blue, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as he lay slumped on the floor, gasping for breath.
The Fujimura Group Leader walked up to him and looked down from above, his voice bone-chillingly cold: "Listen, I don't know who you are, and I don't care. From today on, stay away from my daughter! If I find you near her again, it won't be as simple as a beating! Get out of here, and don't let me see you in Fuyuki City again!"
After saying this, he snorted coldly, dragged the still-struggling and pleading Taiga with him, and left with his men, slamming the door shut.
The room instantly returned to a dead silence, leaving only Emiya Kiritsugu's heavy and painful gasps, and the bouquet of wild flowers on the windowsill swaying slightly in the final rays of the setting sun.
He struggled to lift his head, looking at the flowers, then at the closed door. The Fujimura Group Leader's cold warning and Taiga's receding cries echoed in his ears. The faint warmth and hope that had just been ignited were completely smashed to pieces by this sudden, ruthless iron fist.
The pain in his body was far less than the coldness in his heart.
As expected... he was still that jinx. Anyone who got close to him would be dragged into misfortune. Even this last bit of insignificant warmth was something he didn't deserve to possess.
He curled up on the cold floor, staring at the darkness completely descending outside the window. The tiny light in his eyes was completely extinguished, leaving only a deathly silence deeper and more desperate than before.
At that moment, outside the Fujimura Mansion, Kanjuro "happened" to pass by, "witnessing" the end of this farce from a distance. With a faint, imperceptible cold smile on his face, he turned and left elegantly.
It was time to comfort the "frightened" girl and further consolidate his position in her heart as the "only one who understands." He walked toward the main gate of the Fujimura house, his face already wearing a perfectly measured look of worry and tenderness.
"Taiga? I thought I heard a commotion over here just now. Are you okay?" Seeing Kanjuro, Taiga felt as if she had grabbed a life-saving straw and threw herself into his arms, crying her heart out: "Kanjuro... Papa, Papa brought people and beat the Uncle so badly... the Uncle clearly didn't do anything wrong..."
Kanjuro gently patted her back, his tone so tender it could drip water: "Don't cry, don't cry. I saw everything. Your father indeed went too far." He glanced at the unconscious Emiya Kiritsugu inside the room, a sliver of pleasant cold light flashing in the depths of his eyes, while his mouth curled into an expression of righteous indignation: "How can anyone treat someone in need of help like this? Taiga, I can't just ignore this matter."
He cupped Taiga's face, his thumb wiping away her tears, his gaze firm: "I'll stand up for you. Come, take me to see your father."
"Really?" Taiga's eyes widened, tears still hanging on her lashes, but a light of hope had already been lit. "But... Papa is very fierce..."
"For you, I'm not afraid no matter how fierce he is." Kanjuro smiled slightly, his tone confident and composed. "But before that, let's call an ambulance first and send this Uncle to the hospital. He looks like he's hurt quite badly."
"Right, right, right!" Taiga finally snapped out of it and hurriedly called for an ambulance. Watching the paramedics carry the unconscious Emiya Kiritsugu away, she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned and tightly hugged Kanjuro's arm, looking up with a face full of reliance and gratitude: "Kanjuro, you're the best! I like you the most!"
Kanjuro looked down at her eyes full of complete trust, a matchlessly gentle smile appearing on his face as he rubbed her hair: "Silly girl, let's go."
He took Taiga's hand and walked toward the Fujimura Group's main house. The setting sun stretched their shadows long, their leaning figures appearing incredibly harmonious. Taiga's heart was filled with the sweetness of being protected and infinite gratitude toward Kanjuro, entirely unaware that she was holding the devil's hand and walking toward a meticulously choreographed stage.
Fujimura Group Headquarters, Dojo.
The Fujimura Group Leader was kneeling at the head position, listening to a subordinate's report with a dark expression, clearly still angry. When he saw his daughter actually barging in with a strange, handsome young man, his brow furrowed even tighter.
"Taiga! Why did you bring an outsider here?" he barked, his gaze cutting across Kanjuro like a knife.
"Dad! Why did you beat that uncle like that? He's my friend!" Taiga summoned the courage to talk back, but her voice was still trembling.
"Friend? A man of unknown origin, worthy of being a friend to a daughter of the Fujimura family?" The Fujimura Group Leader snorted coldly and looked at Kanjuro. "Boy, who are you? This isn't a place you should be."
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