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The wind howled against the sliding wooden doors, a mournful, high-pitched shriek that made the sturdy timber of the Emiya residence groan.
Shirou stumbled into the genkan, kicking the door shut behind him with a desperate thud. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by his ragged breathing and the soft pat-pat of melting snow falling from his coat onto the tatami mats. He carried three plastic bags, the plastic stretched taut over vegetables, meat, and emergency supplies.
"Welcome home, Shirou."
Saber appeared from the hallway, moving with that distinct, noiseless grace of hers. She wore her casual civilian clothes, a heavy knit sweater over her blouse today, but her posture remained as upright as if she were clad in armor.
The tension in Shirou’s shoulders instantly melted away at the sight of her. Despite the biting cold seeping through the walls, just seeing her there, safe and waiting for him, brought a sudden warmth to his chest. He managed a tired but genuine smile, which she returned with a soft, welcoming expression of her own.
"I am glad you returned when you did," she noted, taking two of the heavy bags from his freezing hands. "The temperature has dropped significantly in the last hour. The winds are shifting."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Shirou breathed, peeling off his scarf. His face felt numb. "I thought I could make it to the market and back before the worst of it hit, but I barely recognized the street on the way back. Visibility is practically zero."
He watched as Saber moved to the kitchen. She had been busy while he was out. Thick blankets were draped over the draftier windows, and she had placed rolled-up towels at the base of the doors to keep the heat in.
"You've locked the place down tight," Shirou observed, blowing warm air into his cupped hands.
"A necessary precaution," Saber replied, setting the groceries on the counter with precision. "The winters of my youth were harsh as well. Kay and I would spend days sealing the gaps in Sir Ector’s cottage before the snows arrived." She folded her hands, a look of mild frustration on her face. "However, I must admit that securing this residence proved far more challenging than a stone cottage. The wind seems to find its way through every seam."
"Yeah, I bet. This place is built in the traditional Japanese style," Shirou explained, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally felt the feeling return to his fingers. "It's designed to let air flow through during the summers. It’s great for dealing with hot and humid weather, but terrible for flash freezes like this."
He glanced at the sliding paper doors, which were rattling slightly in their tracks.
"Fuyuki usually has pretty mild winters, so a freak blizzard like this isn't something the house was really built to handle. Tohsaka's place, on the other hand... that European-style house is probably laughing at this wind right now. It's likely a lot warmer over there."
"Then we must simply be more diligent," Saber stated, her tone shifting from reminiscence back to determination. "If the architecture fights us, we shall simply fight harder to conserve what heat remains."
"I'll let you take the lead on that battle, Saber." Shirou smiled. "I’m going to take a quick shower to thaw out. Then I’ll start dinner."
"Do not linger too long," Saber advised, her eyes softening just a fraction. "The water heater may struggle if the pipes cool further."
Twenty minutes later, Shirou felt human again. Dressed in thick sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, he stepped into the kitchen. The warmth of the room was comforting, smelling faintly of the tea Saber had brewed.
He set to work on dinner, deciding that Tonjiru was the only logical choice for a night like this. It was a hearty pork miso soup perfect for the cold. He began chopping green onions and carrots, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the knife filling the silence. Next came the daikon radish and burdock root, their earthy scent rising from the cutting board as he sliced them into uniform, bite-sized pieces. Thin strips of pork belly sat ready on a side plate, waiting to be sautéed to release their savory fat into the broth.
"I would have stopped by the Tohsaka manor to check on Sakura and Tohsaka," Shirou said, glancing toward the window where the snow was piling up against the glass. "But I was gonna get buried if I stayed out too much longer."
Saber sat at the kotatsu nearby, peeling a mandarin orange. "They will be fine, Shirou. Rin is resourceful, and Sakura has Rider with her. A mere blizzard will not trouble them."
"I know. I just worry." Shirou washed his hands and looked toward the hallway. "Is Fuji-Nee napping in her room? I figured she'd be down here complaining about the cold by now."
"She is not," Saber replied. "She called while you were shopping. She has decided to remain at the Fujimura estate with her grandfather until the storm passes. She felt it unwise to attempt the journey here."
"That's a relief," Shirou sighed. "At least she's safe. So, it's really just us tonight."
"I believe we shall manage." Saber said with a satisfied smile on her face.
Shirou turned back to the stove, setting a heavy pot on the burner. He added a splash of sesame oil, the nutty aroma instantly filling the air as it heated. He was just about to toss in the pork when the hum of the refrigerator cut out.
Simultaneously, the overhead light flickered once, twice, and died.
The kitchen plunged into gray gloom, illuminated only by the faint, snowy twilight filtering through the heavy clouds outside.
"Well," Shirou sighed, setting down his ladle. "That’s not good."
He navigated the darkened house to the breaker box in the hallway, using the screen of his flip phone for light. Saber followed close behind, her footsteps silent. Shirou flipped the panel open and squinted at the switches.
"None of them are tripped," he muttered. "The main breaker is still on. It must be a line down in the neighborhood."
"The snow is heavy," Saber noted, looking toward the ceiling as if she could see the power lines through the roof. "The weight likely snapped a cable, or a branch fell."
Shirou slumped slightly. "That means we just have to wait. The power company is going to have a nightmare trying to fix lines in this wind. I feel bad for the workers who have to go out in this."
He imagined them out there, fighting the biting wind and the blinding snow, risking frostbite just to get the lights back on.
"You should not pity them, Shirou."
Shirou blinked in confusion, turning to look at her. In the shadows, her green eyes seemed to glow with a calm intensity.
"It is their chosen occupation," Saber stated, her voice taking on that kingly cadence she used when discussing matters of state or honor. "They have accepted the responsibility of maintaining the infrastructure of this city. To perform one's duty, even in the face of adversity and harsh elements, is a noble thing. They labor diligently to restore power and warmth to the citizens of this city. It is not a plight to be pitied, but a resolve to be admired."
Shirou stared at her for a moment, then a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. That is the most Saber way of putting that ever. "You're right. I should trust them to do their job."
"Indeed." Saber nodded, satisfied with his agreement. But then, the scent of the sesame oil wafted from the rapidly cooling stove. Her stoic mask cracked instantly.
She turned to the dark pot, then back to Shirou, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Her shoulders slumped, and her large green eyes went wide with genuine despair.
"But Shirou..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "The Tonjiru... the heat is gone. We were only moments away from adding the pork." She looked back at the pot as if it were a fallen comrade. "Is... is our dinner ruined?"
Shirou couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Her priority shift from regal philosophy to immediate heartbreak over food was adorable.
"Don't look so devastated, Saber. I'm way ahead of you."
Shirou moved to the storage closet near the entrance. He rummaged through the back shelf, pushing aside old cleaning supplies until he found a dusty, hard-shell case. He hauled it out, dusting it off.
"I got these out from the shed the other night, just in case," Shirou explained, popping the latches.
Saber's eyebrow raised in curiosity. Inside was a metal grate with a burner, and several small green containers. "Shirou, what is this?"
"It's a camping stove. It runs off of these small propane containers. I don't remember if it was Taiga or Kiritsugu that bought these, but they should let us cook without electricity for a bit." He doesn't think you're technically supposed to use these indoors, but he doesn't really care when the outside is rapidly becoming a frozen tundra.
He set up the stove on the kitchen table. The click of the ignition was loud in the quiet house, followed by the hiss of gas and a steady blue flame.
"It’ll be slower than the main stove," Shirou said, transferring his pot to the small metal grate. "But we won't starve."
"Excellent thinking, Master." Saber exclaimed, her mood instantly reversing. She sat up straight at the table, eyes sparkling as the cooking resumed.
The room grew darker as the storm intensified outside, blotting out the last of the afternoon light. Shirou grabbed a few battery-operated lanterns and switched them on, but their white LED light was harsh and cold, casting sharp, uninviting shadows.
"Allow me," Saber said softly. She closed her eyes. A subtle shift in the air pressure rippled through the room. She had summoned Excalibur? Then, she began to slowly, gently unwrap the wind magic surrounding the blade, unsheathing it from Invisible Air, as if she were going to release the Noble Phantasm, but instead of a blinding wave of destruction, it provided a gentle, warm luminescence. The golden glow bathed the kitchen in a color that felt like sunlight trapped in amber.
It made the steam rising from the pot look magical. It made Saber’s features look ethereally soft. The amount of light was about the same, but the golden glow made their meal seem less like a humble dinner and more of a grand ball.
"Is this better?" she asked.
"Yeah," Shirou breathed, captivated. "Much better."
They ate in that golden twilight. The meal was simple but the cold air in the house made the hot broth taste incredible. Saber ate with her usual healthy appetite, though she maintained her manners perfectly, as always.
By the time they finished, however, the residual heat from the day was gone. The house was bleeding warmth rapidly. Shirou could see his breath in the golden light of the sword.
Saber watched him, her brow furrowing slightly. She noticed the slight tremor in his hands and the way he hunched his shoulders against the chill.
"The temperature is dropping dangerously low," she noted quietly. She looked at him, then down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.
"Yeah," Shirou exhaled, a cloud of white mist escaping his lips. "It's going to be a rough night. I'll probably grab some extra blankets from the closet."
"Shirou."
He looked up. Saber was refusing to meet his eyes, her gaze fixed on a knot in the wooden table. A faint splash of color touched her cheeks.
"You are... human," she started, the words coming out slower than usual. "Your tolerance for this cold is far lower than mine. It would be unwise for you to sleep alone in a room that is rapidly freezing."
Shirou blinked. "Oh. Well, I've got plenty of blankets. I should be fine."
"Blankets may not be sufficient," Saber insisted, her voice rising just a fraction before she caught herself. She cleared her throat, regaining a semblance of composure, though her ears were turning pink. "It is a matter of safety. I... I would not wish for my Master to fall ill due to negligence."
She finally looked up at him, her green eyes swimming with a mixture of concern and a shy, unspoken hope.
"Perhaps," she murmured, "we could bring the futons to the living room? And... stay together? Strictly to ensure you do not freeze, of course."
Shirou stared at her. She was trying so hard to frame this as a tactical necessity, to use her duty as a shield for what she really wanted. It was transparent, clumsy, and the most adorable thing he had ever seen.
The truth was, he didn't want to be alone in the dark and cold either. He wanted to be near her just as much as she seemed to want to be near him.
"You're right," Shirou said softly, unable to keep a fond smile off his face. "I'd feel a lot safer if you were close by, Saber."
Saber’s expression brightened instantly, though she tried to hide it with a solemn nod. "Yes. That is... sensible. Then let us prepare."
They moved the bedding to the center of the living room, stacking the futons for extra insulation. Before settling in, they took a moment to layer up against the biting cold. Shirou pulled a heavy grey hoodie over his shirt to go with his sweatpants, cinching the strings tight. He felt ridiculous, like a bundled-up child, but the chill in the air was unforgiving.
When Saber returned from the hallway, however, Shirou forgot about the cold entirely.
She had changed into a simple white nightgown, the hem brushing her ankles, but had sensibly pulled her thick knit sweater back on over it. It was a practical choice, yet the sight of her caused Shirou’s brain to short-circuit.
She had undone her hair.
The signature bun was gone, and the blue ribbon lay on top of her folded clothes. Her golden hair cascaded freely down her back, framing her face in soft, chaotic waves. Shirou had seen her like this before, but it never failed to blow his mind. Stripped of her kingly hairstyle, she looked softer, younger. She was breathtakingly beautiful to him in armor or casual wear, but with her hair down, she seemed less like a legend and more like... just Artoria.
"Is something the matter, Shirou?" she asked, noticing his stare as she knelt by the futon.
"No," Shirou managed, quickly looking away to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. "You just... you look nice with your hair down."
"Thank you, Shirou." she replied, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
They retreated under the heavy covers quickly.
It was awkward.
They lay side by side, stiff as boards, staring up at the dark ceiling. The golden light of Excalibur had been extinguished to let them sleep, leaving them in total darkness.
"Shirou," Saber’s voice came from the dark, sounding slightly strained.
"Yeah?"
"You are still shivering."
"I'm fine. Just takes a minute to warm up."
There was a rustle of fabric. Suddenly, warmth pressed against his side. Saber had shifted closer, closing the gap between them. Her hand found his under the covers, her fingers lacing with his.
"Is this... acceptable?" she whispered, her voice small and uncertain in the quiet room.
"Yeah," Shirou whispered back, squeezing her hand gently. "It's perfect."
He turned on his side, and she did the same.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Saber let out a small, contented breath, then settled into his embrace, burying her face against his chest. She smelled of the winter air and the sweet citrus of the mandarins she’d eaten earlier.
"You are warm, Shirou." she murmured against his shirt.
"So are you."
The awkwardness didn't vanish entirely—they were still two people who fumbled through romance like blind men in a maze—but this moment, frozen in time, was perfect for the two of them. Shirou rested his chin on the top of her head. He could feel the steady rhythm of her heart against his ribs, beating a little fast, just like his.
Safe in the circle of each other's arms, the howling wind outside seemed to fade into the background.
Shirou woke to the sound of the refrigerator humming.
He blinked his eyes open. The overhead light in the hallway was on—he must have left the switch flipped up. A gentle warmth was circulating through the room; the heater had kicked back on automatically.
The blizzard had passed. Sunlight, brilliant and magnified by the snow, was trying to push through the heavy curtains.
He shifted, realizing his arm was asleep. Saber was still sound asleep against him, her breathing deep and even. Her golden hair was a messy halo on the pillow, and her hand was clutching the back of his shirt tightly.
The crisis was passed. The power was back. The house was warming up. His mind instantly began to catalogue the day's requirements. He would need to find the snow shovel and clear the walkways before the snow compacted. He needed to put down salt to handle the ice patches that had likely formed on the front steps. He needed to check the freezer to ensure the meat hadn't spoiled during the outage, and then he needed to call the Tohsaka manor to check on Rin and Sakura.
There was work to be done. A mountain of it.
But then Saber shifted in her sleep, burying her face deeper into the front of his hoodie. She let out a soft murmur, her grip on his shirt tightening as if she were afraid he might vanish if she let go.
Shirou looked down at her. Her expression was completely unguarded, devoid of the burdens of a king or the stoicism of a warrior. In the soft morning light, with her hair spread out around her and her cheek pressed against his chest, she was breathtaking. She was adorable.
And he realized, with a sudden, overwhelming clarity, that he loved her.
The snow could wait. The salt could wait. Even Rin could wait. The most important thing in the world was right here in his arms, warm and safe.
He carefully pulled the blanket up higher around her shoulders, closed his eyes, and settled back into the warmth.
Chores could wait. They could sleep in for just a little longer.