A gaze focused on the pale ceiling, where a tiny crack ran across the surface.
Shinji, or as he should be called now—Shinji—felt his entire body protest even with the slightest movement of his finger.
Only minutes ago, Shinji, a university student, had been suffocating in the icy river after trying to save someone.
That damned lovesick woman—if she wanted to die, she shouldn’t have jumped right next to him!
Yet here he was, lying on this hospital bed, new blood flowing through his body, accompanied by the phantom pain left behind after the overload.
“The fortunate thing is that I transmigrated; the unfortunate thing is that I transmigrated into a fake Shinji.”
He smiled self-deprecatingly in his heart, though the movement of his lips pulled at his facial muscles, causing a sharp pain.
Just think: he had been a model youth, an outstanding league member, about to graduate and enter a wonderful, prosperous new era, ready to become a backbone of society and contribute to the nation.
And yet, for his good deed, he received no reward and ended up as a sewer maggot that everyone despised.
Memories receded and then surged back.
The lingering tactile sensations of this body told him that, not long ago, that golden Heroic Spirit, the detestable Gilgamesh, had forcibly shoved Illya’s heart into Shinji’s chest, intending to use him as a vessel for that muddy Holy Grail.
In the end, because Shinji’s trash-like body couldn’t withstand the immense magical energy of the Holy Grail, he turned into a pile of flesh.
But it was precisely because of this harrowing experience—having had a direct connection with the Holy Grail—coupled with the magical energy shock from the remnants of Illya’s heart (the Lesser Grail), or perhaps the influence of something called the Third Magic?
Materialization of the soul.
After the original Shinji’s soul and body were completely washed away by the black mud, a brand-new body was born, using his existence as a blueprint.
This allowed Shinji’s soul from another world to remain, giving him a body of his own and a reasonable identity to integrate into this world.
Perhaps it was the world’s corrective force at work!
He could say that the current him had nothing to do with the past Shinji; he was a completely reborn Shinji.
However, because the old Shinji served as the anchor point in this world, his newly born body inherited his memories.
He still possessed no talent for magecraft, and because of the burns suffered in the black mud, his body had sustained immense damage.
“Still, it’s fortunate that it’s the UBW route…”
He sighed deeply in his heart; this was likely the silver lining in his misfortune.
If it had been the Fate route or the HF route, what awaited him would have been either immediate death or endless torture.
But in the UBW route, the Holy Grail War had already ended.
That nightmare which had dominated the Matou Family for generations, Matou Zouken, upon seeing the Greater Grail shattered by Excalibur and the shadow of Justeaze completely dissipated, had finally acknowledged the bankruptcy of his obsession and chosen to self-destruct.
The current Matou Family was just a massive tomb containing nothing but money and hollow Magic Crests.
At this moment, Shinji turned his head with great effort.
Beside the hospital bed sat a purple-haired girl.
Sakura.
She was looking down, peeling an Apple with slow, deliberate movements.
The blade glided over the skin, emitting a faint, rustling sound.
Her expression was weary, her eyes slightly red, and she radiated a sense of cautious detachment.
Watching her, Shinji’s heart gave a sudden, sharp twitch.
Within this emotion were the not-yet-fully-dissipated residues left by the original Shinji—a twisted sense of possessiveness and inferiority—but more than that, it was the sigh of Shinji as an observer, and…
deep guilt.
Although those heinous atrocities were not committed by Shinji, he had now inherited this name, along with this sin.
He couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and use “I am a transmigrator” to clear his name.
At the very least, he wouldn’t explain it like that to the Sakura in front of him; no matter how he put it, it would sound like a lie or an attempt to escape responsibility.
Because in this world, in Sakura’s eyes, he was Shinji.
But he was no saint.
He was very clear that if so-called atonement required sacrificing his life, he would respectfully decline.
Having finally managed to live again, even if he was replacing the identity of the scumbag Shinji, he wanted to survive.
This was a transmigration he had earned by risking his life to save others.
If he were to continue living for others, wouldn’t his transmigration have been in vain?
The best method was to completely sever all ties with the high-risk profession of a Magus.
The sound of the bedsheets rustling startled Sakura.
She looked up abruptly, the fruit knife in her hand pausing.
Seeing Shinji struggling to prop up his upper body, she stood up subconsciously, the Apple peel in her hand falling to the floor.
“Brother?”
Her voice was very soft, carrying a hint of habitual fear.
Her eyes flickered—a conditioned reflex formed after long-term abuse.
After hesitating for a moment, she seemed to want to ask “Are you feeling better?”, her lips slightly parted.
“Sakura, you’re here to see me make a fool of myself, aren’t you?
You’re laughing at me.”
Shinji’s hoarse voice interrupted her, giving Sakura no chance to speak.
He didn’t want to hear those fake greetings born of obligation or pity; they would only deepen his guilt and might cause him to make some impulsive promises.
He took a breath, forcibly suppressing the dull pain in his chest, and made himself look as much like that arrogant loser as possible.
“But now, at this moment, I…
am not admitting defeat to you, nor…
am I admitting that I am inferior to that guy, Emiya Shirou.”
Although speaking seemed to be a struggle, Shinji tried hard to adjust his facial expression, making it look as though he were maintaining his final shred of dignity.
“I won’t say things like ‘it’s all the old man’s fault’ to shirk responsibility.
Instead, I’m done playing with you all.
Understand?
I’m quitting this game.”
Sakura was stunned.
These sudden words still sounded harsh, still filled with the flavor of that arrogant yet inferior brother.
That tone of refusing to admit defeat, that attitude of treating everything like a game.
But for some reason, she felt a hint of difference from the past.
The old Shinji would probably be screaming hysterically at this point, cursing the unfairness of fate, and pouring all his rage onto her.
But the current him, although his tone was harsh, lacked that murky madness in his eyes.
However, in her heart, Sakura did not want to discuss this issue with him in depth.
Regarding this nominal brother, her feelings had long since been extinguished by countless tortures; what remained was only pity based on duty and hatred that had seeped into her bones.
She lowered her head, wanting to brush it off and end this conversation.
“Brother, since you’re awake, you should get some rest…”
“I’m sorry, Sakura.”
This sudden sentence abruptly cut off what Sakura was about to say.
At that moment, silence fell over the hospital room.
The half-peeled Apple in Sakura’s hand dropped to the floor with a thud and rolled under the bed, as if she had heard some absurd fantasy.
She looked at the man in front of her; that face, which was always twisted, was now surprisingly calm to the point of being unfamiliar.
He…
was apologizing?
That Shinji?
The man who treated her as a tool for venting desire and a punching bag was actually apologizing to her?
“Brother, what are you saying?”
Sakura’s voice trembled; she didn’t know what new method of torture this was.
Was he trying to show weakness first, and then mock her naivety mercilessly?
“Don’t find it strange.”
Shinji’s gaze fell vacantly into mid-air, as if repenting to the air.
“The sins I committed against you—even a piece of human trash like me hasn’t forgotten them.”
He paused; those were the words Shinji wanted to say as a normal person, and also what he had to say to completely sever this karmic bond.
“I admit I am not a good person, let alone a brother.
You are very clear on this point.”
He turned his head, and those eyes, which had always been filled with malice and violence, looked straight into Sakura’s eyes, asking the obvious question:
“You hate me, don’t you, Sakura.”
Sakura’s breath hitched.
She wanted to deny it, wanted to put on a fake smile like usual and say it wasn’t the case.
She had originally thought she was numb, that she could treat this nominal brother like a stranger.
The grievances, pain, and fear that had built up for so long burst forth in this instant.
She covered her mouth, and tears streamed out without warning.
“Yes.”
Sakura choked, her voice leaking out from between her fingers:
“I hate you so much, I…
hate you!”
Even after the Holy Grail War had ended, even watching him lying on the bed on the verge of death, that hatred had never disappeared.
That was a scar carved into her bones; it couldn’t be smoothed over with a single apology.