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1.
Shirou hates looking at it. His reflection.
He hates the high school uniform, the way it hides the worn-out band t-shirt underneath in the same way that he hides his true self in front of his foster family. He hates that he still feels the need to pretend for them, out of guilt and a misguided desire to maybe fit in, when he knows very well he can’t.
Shirou isn’t like them. He’s not like they want him to be. He can’t be the good kid with the sweet behavior and perfect grades that they hoped for when they adopted him. And yet, no matter how many times he gets in trouble, they don’t scold him. It’s infuriating. He’s constantly torn between wanting to act out more and get them to finally react, and wanting to try and be good, because after all they have always been nice to him.
But he doesn’t need nice. He needs her. Like today, it had been a while since he’d picked up smoking, and even longer since he’d seen her, and yet the first thing she did was scold him about it. Not that it’ll make him stop, but - it feels good to have someone care for him without walking on eggshells. It feels real.
Much like he can’t be the son his foster family needs, they also can’t be the family he needs. And Shirou hates that he feels like that, hates that he couldn’t manage to be happy to be taken in by people who just wanted to love him.
He lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag. He’s not supposed to smoke inside the house, but again it’s not like they’re going to be mad about it. He blows out the smoke slowly as he glares at himself in the mirror, then stubs out the cigarette against his reflection. It’s not like it’s going to hurt him or damage the glass, but for a second Shirou can’t see his own eyes staring back at him and he supposes that’s good enough.
2.
Stop staring at me like that.
Shirou is perfectly able to hate himself on his own; he doesn’t need the silent judgment from his reflection. He frowns and looks down at the sink, his jaw clenching as he recalls his earlier words.
He didn’t have to lash out like that - not at her. And of all the things he could have said, he had to go there, didn't he? Literally anything else would have been better.
Of course he wants her to act like she’s his sister. Yes, it can be annoying at times, but that’s also how he expects siblings relationships to be. Never mind what DNA has to say about it, she’s his real family. Their bond deserves better than to be belittled the way Shirou just did.
The thing is… He’s scared. He hasn’t told anyone yet. Alright, it’s not like he has many people to tell, but she’s the most important person in his life. And while he’s relatively sure she would be fine with it, considering how she always encouraged him to live his own life, well. It’s still terrifying to put himself out there.
He should, though, right? Surely she would also understand his earlier knee jerk reaction if he explained everything. Surely she would still accept him… And maybe even…
Shirou raises his head, sees the phantom face of his boyfriend smiling at him in the mirror like he did this morning before leaving for work. They haven’t been together for so long but it’s going well enough that maybe it isn’t too silly to entertain that line of thought, if only for a second. That, maybe, if he told his sister, the three of them could eventually become some sort of family.
3.
It’s only his hair, and yet it’s enough to make it feel like there’s a whole different person staring back at him in the mirror. Maybe it’s the way his eyes appear to be even darker, filled with resolve and a hopeless kind of resignation. Either way, Shirou can barely recognize himself right now.
But maybe it’s better like this. His old self has no place in this new life. Maybe he could have become something; there had been little chance of that happening, but it had still been a possibility before—
Before that.
Whatever could have been, whatever hopes and dreams Shirou might have still harbored for his future, they all disappeared the moment he saw that video. Next thing he knew, he was punching a Yakuza in the face, taking his first step into this new world while knowing full well that the chances of ever leaving it alive were slim. But it’s alright. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.
All that matters now is finding her. Avenging her. Letting her rest.
The things he told her the last time they met will weigh on what’s left of his conscience for the rest of his life, like a constant itch he can never get rid of - worse even than what he got after getting tattooed. That’s his burden. He’ll endure everything this world throws at him, every despicable act he’ll have to commit, because it will never hurt as bad as living with the memory of their last encounter.
His reflection stares back at him defiantly, daring him to give up, to get out now while he might still stand a chance, and Shirou glares right back, eyes dark and determined. Who cares if he loses what’s left of himself? It’s not like he ever felt like he was worth anything in the first place.
4.
The shower didn’t help much - in fact it only made his body hurt even more, every cut burning under the warm spray of water like sharp needles scratching at his skin. And he doesn’t even feel any cleaner.
So this is what you’ve become, huh?
His own gaze isn’t even judgemental anymore, it’s resigned, almost empty. It always is nowadays, whenever Shirou comes home from one of those “meetings” with that particular asshole. That guy can cut and hit Shirou as much as he wants for his own twisted kind of pleasure, but Shirou barely feels a thing when it happens. His soul just fades away in the back of his mind, back where he buried everything that used to make him himself.
Unfortunately, he tends to wake up from that daze after coming home, and then he feels everything. Every single tear on his skin, every bruise, every sore muscle. And he feels so disgusting too, it’s nauseating. After a year, he’s only gotten used to it enough that he’s able to ignore the need to throw up, but that doesn’t make it all any more comfortable.
This is the path you’ve chosen. You’ve done that to yourself.
He wants to punch his reflection in the mirror, wants to scream that he knows very well why he’s doing all this. He doesn’t. For all that he hates his own face at the moment, he needs the self-reminder, needs to settle back inside himself and swallow the pain and disgust tearing him up. It’s always the same; he has one night to be vulnerable as he tends to his wounds - both visible and invisible - and the next day he has to be a strong and immovable face for the Minegami group.
It would be so easy to give up. So easy to provoke a rival just a bit too much, and get beaten just up a bit too much as well in response. Then he wouldn’t have to feel anymore. The pain, the nausea, the guilt, the loneliness - it would all go away.
Shirou has been scaring himself with how often he’s been contemplating this lately. That’s why he needs to remember his goal even more. He needs to remain determined. He can, and he will endure all this as long as it takes, until he finds out the truth.
And once he does… Then all bets are off.
5.
Stupid Ichirou.
What business did he have looking all weirdly concerned for Shirou and his meeting with the PM? What does it matter to him whether Shirou forces himself or not? And more importantly, why does Shirou care what Ichirou thinks?
He barely knows the guy. And so far he’s just been annoying. Shirou has only agreed to team up with him for the extra information it could get him, and so far it hasn’t even paid off that much.
Liar.
Shirou rolls his eyes at his reflection - yes, alright, he’s learned quite a lot thanks to Ichirou. And yes, okay, fine, he’ll admit that he enjoys Ichirou’s company. It’s kind of nice, being around someone without needing to constantly perform and pretend to be someone else.
It’s almost like… Like Shirou has recovered some part of him - part of his true self that he locked away three years ago. He has actually laughed while messing with Ichirou’s breakfast the other day, has even felt worried and angry on his behalf when that asshole Nakamura had Ichirou beaten up.
Anger directed at someone other than himself? Shirou hasn’t felt that in years.
That’s not how things were supposed to go. Shirou wasn’t supposed to start feeling again. This life he’s made for himself - it’s a lot easier when everything he does is a transaction, when he doesn’t have to worry about the consequences on his soul or someone else’s. He has learned not to care anymore, and was doing perfectly fine like that.
So yes, stupid Ichirou, barging in and disrupting his way of life. This whole “partners” thing has to work out, and quickly. He needs to find out the truth, and for his search to finally end. Then he’ll cut ties with Ichirou. And then, when he’s alone again and his sister is at peace, maybe he could finally…
Well.
Either way, what he doesn’t need is for Ichirou to become important enough to make Shirou question some of his life choices. And more importantly, he doesn’t need Ichirou to make him feel like his existence has any value whatsoever.
Sensing some doubt from his reflection, Shirou braces himself against the bathroom sink and squeezes his eyes shut. The phantom image of Ichirou’s gentle and concerned gaze flashes behind his eyelids, and Shirou swallows hard, trying to ignore the irritating nagging at the back of his brain.
Liar.
+1
“Shirou, what’s taking you so long? Senpai will be wait— What are you doing?”
Shirou can see Ichirou’s confused expression in the mirror, and he smiles softly. It’s been almost a year since he’s started noticing himself smiling more and more, yet it still feels odd to actually see it. It’s like his reflection stopped judging him, and is just content to see him finally happy.
“I used to hate looking at myself like this,” Shirou simply says. He’s just standing there in the bathroom, which he realizes must look odd. And he also knows that they need to go, but sometimes it’s just… It’s nice to just look and not feel the weight of judgment and self-hatred for a change.
Alright, Shirou might have formed a rather complicated relationship with his own reflection over the years. That’s not the weirdest thing about him anyway, so who cares.
“Wha— really?” Ichirou replies with an aborted chuckle. This time Shirou does turn around and raise an eyebrow at him. Ichirou gives a little nervous laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s just— I didn’t expect—”
“Out with it.”
“Well, you’re… You look…” Ichirou vaguely gestures at Shirou. “You know.”
Shirou grins and grabs the end of Ichirou’s tie, dragging his boyfriend closer. “Do I? I don’t think I do. You’re going to have to explain it to me.”
Ichirou narrows his eyes and Shirou immediately regrets asking. “You’re cute.”
Shirou groans and lets his forehead fall on Ichirou’s shoulder. “Dammit. I should have seen it coming.” Ichirou laughs and wraps his arms around him. Shirou lets himself enjoy the warmth for a moment, then turns around in Ichirou’s embrace so they’re both facing the mirror. “Anyway, this was never about how I look. More about who I am. Who I was.”
Ichirou’s gaze flickers across Shirou’s reflection, his expression growing more serious. “Do you want to tell me?”
“It’s not much, it’s just… I suppose I’ve always felt inadequate. I’ve told you already, how I felt within my foster family, and about my last conversation with my sister before she faked her death. This kind of thing. And then, I joined the group, and…” Shirou sighs. “I told myself I would be able to endure anything. That it was fine if I didn’t recognize myself anymore, because I didn’t matter anyway. But some of the things I did…”
Ichirou’s arms tighten around him and Shirou takes a deep, steadying breath. “I decided I couldn’t give up until I found her, but I knew that once I did, without that goal to drive me forward, I might— Well.”
“Shirou…”
“I know. Anyway, I’m still here aren’t I? You annoyed the hell out of me at first, you know? Making me care about you… And you, caring about me, of all people. Infuriating.”
Ichirou snorts and nuzzles Shirou’s hair. “Glad I could be of service.”
Shirou smiles again and nudges Ichirou’s arm. “But look, here I am, smiling at myself again.”
“You’ve been smiling more naturally for quite a while though, are you realizing this now?” Ichirou teases.
“Idiot,” Shirou counters with a small laugh. “And no, of course not. But, give me a break. After, what, 29 years of that, it’s kind of intriguing to just look at myself in the mirror and realize I do not necessarily want to punch myself in the face. It’s relaxing, too.”
“Sorry to remind you, but we’re actually turning 30 today though— Ow,” Ichirou says, coughing up the last word on account of a well deserved elbow to the ribs.
“Oh are we, jerk? Take a guess why I wasn’t counting the past year.”
“See, you are cute, you should stop fighting it,” Ichirou replies. He places a single kiss on top of Shirou’s head and Shirou tries to pretend it doesn’t make his chest feel slightly too tight for a second.
“You’re so annoying,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and turning his head to bury it against Ichirou’s neck. He feels so safe like this; how is it possible to feel so safe; how did he ever get so lucky?
He half-opens his eyes and looks at their entwined reflections. Ichirou’s eyes, soft and fond as usual, patient, caring as he waits for Shirou to process whatever he’s going through. Shirou is so thankful for him, for the way he allowed the old Shirou to slowly rise from the darkness where he’d been buried all those years. It was an odd process, and Shirou technically does not feel like his old self - but it’s probably a good thing. He didn’t really like his old self, after all.
No, who he is now is a little mix of all the versions of himself. A whole new Shirou, who doesn’t need to hide parts of his personality anymore - at least not with the people most precious to him. His job is a different story, but with Ichirou and his sister at his side it’s a lot easier to handle.
His choice of tattoo might have been a cliché, it still meant something to him when he did it. All his life, he’s been craving for this - a place where he belonged. With them, he finally found it.
“Shall we go?” Ichirou whispers against his ear. “We’re late already. And Senpai was really looking forward to it. It’s the first birthday she gets to celebrate with us since, well…”
Shirou sighs softly, but nods. “Yes, yes, let’s go. I still feel like she cares about this more than we do.”
“Well, who knows. Apparently I got you to stop hating your reflection, maybe I can get you to enjoy your birthday.”
Shirou turns around to face Ichirou and brushes their noses together. “Well if you ask me, I have a few ideas…”
“Stop. No. No distracting me. We need to go.”
“Later then?” Shirou asks innocently, raising an eyebrow. Ichirou turns a few shades of red and starts mumbling something, but Shirou cuts him off with a kiss.
“You’re impossible,” Ichirou breathes out as they part.
“I know, I know. Come on, let’s go,” Shirou says obligingly. He still steals one more kiss before turning Ichirou around and leading him out of the bathroom.
As he turns to close the door, Shirou catches sight of his reflection in the mirror once more, and finds it smiling back at him.