The Chosen of Tengri(Fate Stay Night)

The house felt colder than usual. Winter was approaching, and the chill in the air seeped through the walls despite Shirou's best efforts to keep the fire going. He stood by the window, staring out at the bare trees and the pale, clouded sky.

Behind him, Kiritsugu sat in his usual chair, wrapped in a heavy blanket. His breathing was labored, a faint wheeze accompanying each exhale. The once-imposing figure Shirou remembered from his childhood was now frail and gaunt, his skin pale and his hands trembling.

"Shirou," Kiritsugu said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shirou turned immediately, crossing the room to stand beside him. "What is it?"

Kiritsugu gestured weakly toward the table. On it sat the ceremonial sword fragment, its surface catching the dim light from the window.

"Bring it here" Kiritsugu said.

Shirou hesitated for a moment before picking up the fragment and placing it in Kiritsugu's outstretched hands. The older man held it carefully, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the metal.

"It's strange" Kiritsugu murmured. "No matter how many times I look at it, it always feels... alive."

Shirou frowned, his gaze shifting between Kiritsugu and the fragment. "What do you mean?"

Kiritsugu didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned the fragment over in his hands, his expression distant.

"This belonged to someone who shaped history," he said finally. "A leader who brought order to chaos."

"Genghis Khan" Shirou said quietly, remembering the name Kiritsugu had mentioned before.

Kiritsugu nodded faintly. "He wasn't a hero, not in the way people imagine one. He united people, but at a cost. He carried the weight of every decision, every sacrifice. That kind of responsibility…" He paused, his voice trailing off.

"Is heavy" Shirou finished for him.

Kiritsugu glanced up at him, a faint flicker of surprise in his tired eyes. "Yes. It's heavy. It demands more from you than you think you have to give."

Shirou looked down at the fragment, its surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. "Why did you give this to me? You said it might inspire me, but... I don't understand what I'm supposed to do with it."

Kiritsugu's hands tightened around the fragment, his knuckles whitening. He looked at Shirou, his tired gaze sharp despite the frailty in his frame.

"I gave it to you because it feels... right," he said finally. "Maybe you'll find your own meaning in it. Or maybe it'll just remind you that even the greatest leaders were human. They doubted themselves too."

Shirou blinked, taken aback. "Leaders?"

Kiritsugu smiled faintly, though there was a shadow of regret in his expression. "We all lead someone, Shirou, even if we don't realize it. But leading means making choices. And those choices... they don't always make sense to everyone else."

Shirou frowned, his fingers brushing over the edge of the fragment. He didn't fully understand what Kiritsugu meant, but the weight in his voice made it clear that these were words forged from experience.

The older man leaned back, his breathing uneven. "This fragment..." He hesitated, coughing into his hand before continuing. "It carries history with it. Decisions, sacrifices, victories... and regrets. Maybe that's why it feels alive. Maybe that's why it feels heavier when I look at you."

Shirou froze, unsure of how to respond. The room fell into silence, the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound.

After a moment, Shirou ventured, "What do you want me to do with it?"

Kiritsugu looked at him, his eyes softening. "That's for you to decide," he said quietly. "But whatever you do, Shirou... don't carry everything alone."

Kiritsugu handed the fragment back to Shirou, his hands trembling. "Keep this close," he said. "You may not understand it now, but one day, you'll need it."

Shirou nodded, holding the fragment tightly. He didn't fully understand Kiritsugu's words, but he could feel their weight.

As the sun set, casting long shadows across the room, Shirou couldn't shake the feeling that something greater was waiting for him—something far beyond his understanding.