Shirou looked at Kiritsugu suspiciously.
There were no pies falling from the sky in this world—only military police.
Was there some kind of conspiracy?
"It's like this, Shirou. Irisviel went home and made some Mapo Tofu..."
Mapo Tofu made by Irisviel?
Shirou shook his head. "No, no, no. There's no way I'm eating that."
"Son, be good." Kiritsugu patted Shirou on the shoulder.
"Sorry, Kiritsugu, but this is the one thing I can't do."
Kiritsugu nodded regretfully. "In that case, I understand."
Shirou finally breathed a sigh of relief. Kiritsugu had not continued down the path of screwing over his son. Otherwise...
"Hello, Irisviel? Yeah, it's me, Kiritsugu. Shirou said he's really looking forward to eating the Mapo Tofu you made when he gets home. He even asked you to make more. I'll hang up now."
Kiritsugu put away his phone. "Son, whether you eat now or later, you're eating it either way. Pick one."
Shirou's mouth fell open.
Is this really my dad? Was I picked up off the street or something?
Kiritsugu, I never thought you were this kind of person. You actually set me up!
Sheba: I Have a Feeling About Something
The moment Shirou heard Kiritsugu's words, he grabbed Rin and sprinted off like he was running a thousand-meter dash.
Where was the most basic trust between people?
Kiritsugu, I trusted you so much! I even ate Mapo Tofu with you, and then you turned around and sold me out?
Shirou hurriedly ran, doing his best to duck into an alley, but a dead end lay before him. There was nowhere left to go—he could go no farther forward and had nowhere to retreat.
He turned around and pressed himself against the wall, feeling a little afraid.
Kiritsugu pulled out his gun. The pitch-black muzzle told