"Morning, Shirou." A voiced called out, the redhead looking up from the stove as his caretaker strolled into the room, dressed, as always, in his usual grey yukata with haori "You're up early."
"Morning, Azazel-san." Shirou replied, the redhead, now clad in a school uniform, not taking his eyes off the stove, more out of a desire to avoid looking at the man than concern for the food "Breakfast will be ready in just a bit, so have a seat."
"If only Vali was as well-mannered." Azazel chuckled, suppressing a yawn as he shuffled over to the table, picking up the morning paper while Shirou turned his attention back to the stove with a sigh.
It had been six months since Shirou had awoken in a private hospital run by one of Azazel's numerous 'subordinates', the man having brought him there when he'd stumbled across him 'lying half-dead in the gutter'. Despite the Faker's concerns, the man hadn't asked too many pertinent questions, which was good, as Shirou doubted he'd be able to answer them.
Fortunately, there was no need to lie to preserve secrecy of Magecraft, as one of the few questions the man asked was how he'd come to possess a Holy Shroud. At first, Shirou assumed he was speaking to an Executor of the Holy Church, as only members of the Burial Division would recognize the Shroud of Martin for what it was. When he'd posed the question however, Azazel had merely laughed at him.
That, and the fact the man clearly wasn't human, had reassured the Faker that he wasn't about to be made an 'example' of.
Not that the man's inhumanity meant anything to the Faker. After rubbing elbows with Counter-Guardians, Demi-Gods & the personification of All-The-World's-Evil, whatever Azazel was, at the very least he hadn't tried drinking his blood or strapping him to a dissection table.
Oh, make no mistake; there was no denying the man was powerful. Even slouched over like he was, casually reading the morning paper while dressed in a yukata & haori, he radiated Prana like an active Noble Phantasm and Shirou didn't doubt for a second he was holding back.
The Man's species aside, Shirou was more concerned with how he'd gotten from the caverns beneath Fuyuki City to a street in Kuoh City, a sentiment seemingly shared by Azazel, who went out of his way try and contact Fujimura Taiga, Shirou's Guardian in Fuyuki, to verify the redhead's claims, only to drop another bombshell on the boy.
There was no Fujimura Taiga. There was no Old Man Raiga, no Fujimura-Group. Even the staff at Homurahara had never heard of an 'Emiya-Shirou', and a call to the hospital shot down any hopes of him being listed as a 'survivor of the fire', the reason being that there never was one.
There never was a Holy Grail War, the Einzbern never teamed up with the Tohsaka & Matou to recreate the Heaven's Feel and so the being known as Emiya Shirou was never 'born'.
Faced with the reality of being stranded in a world where, for all intents & purposes, he did not exist, Shirou naturally went into shock, until Azazel spoke the words that had rocked him to his core:
"So kid, you wanna come with me?"
And so, for the second time in his life, Shirou found himself in the care of a shady, middle-aged man that, by all rights, should not have been able to just walk out the door with him, no doubt using whatever influence he possessed, material & otherwise, to have papers made in Shirou's name, including a birth certificate, passport and even a hanko for any official documentation he may receive in the future.
The similarities to Kiritsugu didn't stop there either. Indeed, there were times when it physically hurt Shirou to be around the Azazel, though thankfully they were few and far between. One of the key differences between them, other than the fact that Azazel was clearly a foreign non-human obsessed with local culture, was that his slothful nature stemmed from his laid-back attitude rather than a curse slowly eating away at his body. Not only that, while Kiritsugu could be kind of a drag, Azazel was almost disturbingly likable, always obsessed with the newest thing on the market.
'It's almost like he's the bastard child of Kiritsugu & Fuji-nee…' he mused, chuckling as he set the food on the table, recalling his guardian's childhood crush on his father, and how they'd both compete for the man's attention
"Mm, perfect as always, Shirou." Azazel complimented, his eyes dancing as he eagerly dug into the humble, in Shirou's opinion, breakfast "I swear your cooking could lead a Saint to sin."
"You're exaggerating." Shirou scoffed, the two of them continuing to dine in comfortably relative silence before he noticed the man suppressing a yawn "Were you working late last night?"
"Ah, one of my cute subordinates passed away some time ago." Azazel sighed, his good humour vanishing, replaced with a grim frown. "And to top it all off, it turns out the reason behind it was due to them running around carrying out errands for another one who's been scurrying around my back for some time now." He took a sip of miso soup "It hasn't gotten to the point I need to step in personally, but if he keeps this up I may need to have him cool his heels for a bit."
Shirou shivered but said nothing, more than used to such conversations after a lifetime accompanying Fujimura Raiga whenever the old man had desired some company. You didn't associate with the head of a Yakuza group, or cohabit with the man's Granddaughter, without learning to filter certain troubling turns of phrase.
"Shouldn't you be heading out?" Azazel wondered, glancing up at the wall-mounted clock for emphasis, Shirou's eyes widening in alarm as he realized he was running late "Don't worry about the dishes, I'll sort them out."