Well, it took some time but finally I was able to finish chapter 9 even with that horrible writers block I had when it came to that chapter ^_^
Thanks go to Cornuthaum for pre-viewing this chapter and somehow getting my motivation back up and running again
Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night or Berserk, nor the characters used in this story.
TAIGA-Dojo Hint: The whole chapter was written while listening to the song "Emiya" game version...listening to it while reading the story might improve the impression one gets from this chapter ^_^
Also this is the second to last chapter of this story....and now enjoy
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Miracle 9
Nothing Lost, Nothing Gained
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fool
He doesnt even bother dodging the enemys slash.
Why?
Attacks as weak as that can not harm a servant like him.
Why wont he stop?
He simply shrugs them off, stopping them with his sword before they can even touch his coat.
Why does that idiot child not realise the folly of what he is trying to do?
Yet.every strike that follows does so with more strength than the one before.
Why does he fight when all he can possibly gain is death and betrayal?
What does he expect to find on that hill of swords, besides the broken pieces of an useless ideal? There is no hope for Shirou Emiyas dream, not even after his death. Attaining a victory here is meaningless, no matter who wins or who loses; there is nothing to be gained from this battle.
Goddamn fool
Yet, even knowing that, the boy continues to challenge him again and again. His arms still swing those curved twin-swords he knows so well relentlessly, as if he couldnt stop even if he tried. His body simply fights on, knowing neither defeat nor tiredness. And with every step that shattered body takes the boys will to fight grows stronger without any end in sight.
And even now the child does not see HIM. No, more than that, the boy CANT see him. His eyes are locked at something, far away in the distance, something only he can see, something that makes it impossible for him to look away, something that is more important to him than the enemy in front of him.
Not that the boy really needs to see his enemy. There is no use in that anyway. Sight is useless to him, his arms are too heavy, his reflexes to slow and his skill to small to use any opening his eyes could find.
But that doesnt matter.this isnt a battle of skill anymore after all and because of this.
He refuses to hear Archers words. He refuses to hear the truth even though it is undeniable right in front of him. He ignores that this stolen dream can bring only pain to him and those around him. He can not accept the man in front him. The proof that Emiyas ideal is not something worth dying.
More than that, it shows that such a twisted ideal should not even be worth fighting for.
FOOL
So he curses the ignorant child in his head, without a single word leaving his lips, showering him with curses and insults for being who he is. For not being able to change himself. For not allowing himself to be changed. That childnothat man, he realizes, is desperately trying to stay on the way he has been following for so long.
A path that can only lead to ruin, for its final destination will always be the same.
That cursed hill.
The hill of swords where only shattered blades and broken dreams remain. The place where Shirou Emiya will one day realize the futility of his wish. So he curses at the fool in front of him.
Every time their swords clash. FOOL
Each time he thinks the boy will fall FOOL
Every time the boy crashes through his defences FOOL
Each time the childs words make him pause FOOL
Every time he refuses to step back and let his enemy fall down FOOL
And with the seemingly never ending sound of steel hitting steel in his ears and the sparks of clashing blades dancing in front of his hate-filled eyes, Archer wonders.
When did he start cursing himself instead?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Night Before
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He is an enigma to her. This black swordsman. The servant they call Assassin.
Though, it is debatable if he can even be considered a servant. That man breaks too many rules by simply existing. For him to be a normal servant, the thought is laughable at best.
He has no master, yet he remains in this world.
His master was her masters enemy, yet he fought against Caster, going against her orders, indirectly as it may have been.
So she watches him, watches him as he nods to whatever Ilyasviel is saying. Another mystery, why does he protect the girl whose servant he has killed? Why does he care about her at all?
Guilt?
No, somehow she does not think so butshe can admit to herself that she is not especially good at understanding peoples emotions. She is too much of a king and not enough of a person for that. That is the fate of a king, to always stand apart from her people. To protect them and rule them but to never be one of them.
Still, she continues to watch as he lays the girl to sleep. A flicker of amusement fills her. It is a wonder how such an act can look so gentle yet so gruff at the same time. Surely that manhe is not someone that is suited for this kind of care yet he seems to be used to it.
She waits till he leaves the room before she moves next to him, standing in the hallway she is granted with a clear view of the night sky.
Neither of them speaks for a while. She does not know how to ask the question that plagues her mind and he as nothing to ask of her.
The silence annoys him a bit though. It was different before, but now he hates it. Because when no one is talking, everyone is thinking.
Annoying. Thinking is such an annoyance.
Back then it was okay, to think of better times, of old comrades, to fantasize about his revenge. He liked those thoughts. They were all that mattered.
Stupid Elf was the beginning of the end of that particular habit.
And after him.well it wasnt all bad.
Thats why he doesnt like the silence anymore. He prefers the noise of people talking actually. It suits him better, having the voices of others in the background.
But at times like this he doesnt want to think about anything at all, especially not about himself or the others back THERE.
Still, there is one sound that fits him even better.
Always has and always will.
The sound of battle will always calm him more than any talking or music ever would. The sound of steel crashing upon steel and the sound of swords cutting through flesh and leather.
The sound of blood being spilled and of guts getting skewered.
He pauses at that thought.
A flicker of irony fills him as he thinks about the meaning behind that sentence.
Its sad but true.
He grins at the night sky, revealing his white teeth in something that can only be called some sick and twisted incarnation of a smile.
Finally the silence is broken, Sabers words slicing through it just as surely as her blade would.
Why do you help us, Assassin, what is it that you seek here? Why do you fight for us? Her voice is gentle; there is no accusation in it. After watching him she thinks that she has finally gained a sense of understanding about him or if not him at least of his reasons.
Assassin closes his eye for a second, as if he were lost in thought, before drawing in a deep breath of the cold night air. A small white tendril escapes from his mouth; twisting upwards it disappears in the air.
Why fight? Thats the easy thing to answer. His words are spoken softly and when he finishes he taps his sword, sending her a significant look.
His finger continues to rest upon the edge, small and insignificant compared to the unwieldy lump of steel he calls a blade.
The Sword. An odd quality, her voice definitely has an odd quality as she speaks those words, he notes.
Yeah, Money, Pride, Revenge, the Greater Good and all that shit.doesnt really matter when it gets bloody and the other bastard is out to cut you open. That has nothing to do with why we fight. As long as you have a sword in your hand you fightits as easy as that.
It is no question.
The black swordsman speaks those words with full conviction.
And the king of knights only nods, because she too believes this to be truth.
Thats why the boy will win. He speaks again, without any prompting at all, surprising Saber yet again.
Hes just like us, as long as he has a sword he won stop. Thats why he wont lose tomorrow.
A small smile is his only answer.
She cant tell if he tried to comfort her or simply spoke the truth as he saw it but she guesses for the latter. He is not the type to sugar-coat things for anyone.
Yet a question remains.
Why do you protect her then?
No idea he pauses for a moment as he tries to voice his thoughts when it comes to the little girl he considers his master right now.
That girl reminds of someone, I guess. Such simple words. Just as expected, he does not waste thoughts on his situation, he simply does what he wishes to do. A giant of a man that could have been a king she thinks, but he prefers being responsible only for himself, his friends, that girl?
Next to his large frame Saber seems even smaller then before when he looks at her.
An illusion, he has not forgotten the strength that lithe body hides so well from view. Her blows are strong and her sword will not break, even from his Dragonslayer.
Besides, right now her strength is beyond what she had possessed in their first battle, even he can tell just from being near her. It is an aura of strength that wraps itself around the girl like a mantle or an armour.
So you protect herjust because you feel like it?
Sounds about right, why not? The girl has got guts. He grins after saying this, as if it is some kind of joke, but if it was she cant say she knows of it.
But its just like the girl said, as long as I keep on swinging my sword she wont be hurt.
Watching the snickering man Saber cocks her head to side.
Then
A smile, small as it can be, blooms on her face. Maybe she finally found her answer to the puzzle in front of her. Whatever answer she was able to find, she is happy with it.
You would have made a good knight, Assassin and I agree with your assessment, Shirou will not die tomorrow, and neither will Ilya as long you continue to swing your sword so full of conviction. Good Night.
With those words she leaves him be.
And the black swordsman still stares at the spot where she had been even after 5 minutes have passed by.
His single eye glows in the darkness for a moment as he looks directly at the moon.
Its a clear night.
A knight, eh? Nothing bad about that, I guess butme. a knight.nah, I just aint made for all that marble, gold, honour and that prissy noble shit.
He hefts his sword up again and makes his way to the room he was given, his steps slow and ponderous.
Before he enters the room he throws one last look at the moon.
Its a nice night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here and Now
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How many times have their swords clashed against each other in the last few minutes?
Once?
Twice?
Or was it a thousand times?
He cant tell. He cant tell if he is gaining ground, cant tell is he is winning or losing. He doesnt even know if anything is happening at all.
There is only one thing that he knows.
The most important thing.
To keep on fighting.
He understands that it is the only thing that matters, it doesnt matter if his fingers are broken already, doesnt matter if his arms are slashed or his chest sliced open, doesnt matter if he cant see anything but THAT with his eyes.
As long as he keeps on swinging his swords it doesnt matter.
None of it matters.
He strikes at his enemy will all the strength he has left.
He shouldnt even be standing.
Another slash, this time with the other twin-sword, the blows strength forces Archers blade back for a moment, eliciting a surprised flicker on Archers face.
He should be dead on the ground.
Again he strikes, giving his opponent no time for a breather, his sword coming down violently upon Archers and sending painful vibrations through both their arms.
No mere magus could possibly defeat a Heroic Spirit.
There is no end; every attack that looks like it is the last resort his body can make leads into another one.
It simply was not possible.
It does not matter.
Nothing matters to him anymore.
Nothing but the realisation that he must keep on fighting.
No matter how broken his body his, no matter what his senses tell him, no matter that winning should not even be a possibility.
All that matters to him now is to keep swinging his swords.
He wont give up. He cant give up. He owes that to himself. He owes it to the people that died back then. He owes it to the people that are dieing right now because no one is there for them.
Because, maybe there is someone out there, just one person really and that person might be in danger. He or she might be facing certain death. Surrounded by fire from all sides, maybe that person has accepted his death and yet
Maybe that person is still wishing for a hero even when he is so close to death
For someone that can save him and everyone else.
He cant stop.
He wont stop.
He will keep on swinging those swords till he dies. Even if that hill of swords becomes his grave. Even if the people he saves will hate him.
He will still swing those swords.
Because nothing else matters.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When their pitched battle finally comes to an end, Archer can see it.
He sees the blow before it is even halfway finished. It is not enough to break through his guard. It is too slow to surprise him.
An attack like this is nothing to be feared.
As a servant he realizes that it is not this blade that will seal his fate.
The moment he hears the words, that is when his movement simply stops. That is when the blade raising up to parry that brutish blow stops and he becomes open to this weak little attack from a half-dead man-child.
Those soft-spoken words.
It wasnt a mistake.
He can not parry them. He can not block them. He can not UN-hear them.
There is no defence against those words. No Noble Phantasm can stop them from penetrating his heart. No amount of self-control can help him ignore them.
The moment he hears them, nearly drowned out by the sound of hammering steel, he understands.
Thisis his total defeat.
Even though this is a battle without victor or a loser. Even though nothing could be gained or lost here.
He has lost becausehis reason is weak. His heart is weak. His pain has made him weak.
Pain and misery have robbed him of the strength he once had. The strength born in fire, nurtured by that broken man and sharpened upon that hill of swords.
And he remembers, Emiya, remembers the man that would not stop fighting.
He remembers the hero that would not falter, no matter how many scorned him, no matter how much pain he was in or that he could not save everyone. The one that would not allow himself to give up.
And when the blade comes closer he UNDERSTANDS.
The reason why he lost, the reason why Emiya Shirou was the only logical winner of this battle. The reason why his thousand upon thousands of swords could not stop the man in front of him.
Even though it was a construct. Even though it was not the original body.
This, was his body, or as perfect a copy as it could get.
Killing Emiya Shirou, would be nothing more than giving up.
Such a thing could never happen.
Because this body, broken, shattered and torturedwould simply not allow itself to give up, would not allow Emiya to give up.
He doesnt feel pain when the steel penetrates his flesh. Not that he feels any pleasure either. He simply accepts it. This outcome, as absolute impossible as it should have been, makes sense to him. Nothing was lost. Nothing was gained.
Nothing but a short and sudden realization.
That man had no regrets.
Even on that hill of swords, even when he was dyinghe had no regrets.
And because of this, he kept on fighting. For a better world. For those that couldnt save themselves.
For everything he believed in.
Archer closes his eyes, letting the sudden calmness that fills him now wash over him like a purifying bath, as he stands there, sword in his chest, his younger self still clutching the sword even as blood begins to run down the edge and darken Shirous already stained shirt.
That girl,. always messes up when it comes to some things during important events.
His voice is calm and as he keeps his eyes closed when he speaks.
Sometimes she cant see the obvious and she isnt very honest when it comes to her true feelings.
When he opens his eyes again, they immediately meet his younger counterparts eyes.
But she is an excellent master and I can trust her with my life.she is Rin.besides an idiot like meneeds someone to stop him from doing stupid things.
The boy falls to the floor as the sword in his hand fades away. Still he tries to sit up again and looks at his opponent one more time.
I know how Tohsaka can beand.I will protect her.with those swords and with those hands, I will keep her safe.
SHIROU
Saber jumps the last few metres separating them, immediately checking for any serious injuries that even Avalon might have problems healing.
It is a pity, really. They do not see Archers face as he turns around and walks away.
ARCHER
The shout stops him when he already has reached the door, drawing the attention of all three of them to Rin, her face flushed red now that she has freed herself and ran through the entire castle.
She wants to say something.
Anything really.
But for a moment she sees him standing in the light that falls through the door and then
He smiles.it is.warmno..more than just warmthe girl flushes even more seeing that kind of smile directed at her.
Please take care of that idiot me back there, Master. He will need it.
He does not need to hear her whispered Archer to know what she said as he finally turns around and leaves, his body already starting to fade away the moment he passes completely through the door.
Yet a single thought keeps on making him smile even as he disappears.
Truly
The only winner today was Shirou Emiya.
I have no regrets.
Thanks go to Cornuthaum for pre-viewing this chapter and somehow getting my motivation back up and running again
Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night or Berserk, nor the characters used in this story.
TAIGA-Dojo Hint: The whole chapter was written while listening to the song "Emiya" game version...listening to it while reading the story might improve the impression one gets from this chapter ^_^
Also this is the second to last chapter of this story....and now enjoy
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Miracle 9
Nothing Lost, Nothing Gained
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fool
He doesnt even bother dodging the enemys slash.
Why?
Attacks as weak as that can not harm a servant like him.
Why wont he stop?
He simply shrugs them off, stopping them with his sword before they can even touch his coat.
Why does that idiot child not realise the folly of what he is trying to do?
Yet.every strike that follows does so with more strength than the one before.
Why does he fight when all he can possibly gain is death and betrayal?
What does he expect to find on that hill of swords, besides the broken pieces of an useless ideal? There is no hope for Shirou Emiyas dream, not even after his death. Attaining a victory here is meaningless, no matter who wins or who loses; there is nothing to be gained from this battle.
Goddamn fool
Yet, even knowing that, the boy continues to challenge him again and again. His arms still swing those curved twin-swords he knows so well relentlessly, as if he couldnt stop even if he tried. His body simply fights on, knowing neither defeat nor tiredness. And with every step that shattered body takes the boys will to fight grows stronger without any end in sight.
And even now the child does not see HIM. No, more than that, the boy CANT see him. His eyes are locked at something, far away in the distance, something only he can see, something that makes it impossible for him to look away, something that is more important to him than the enemy in front of him.
Not that the boy really needs to see his enemy. There is no use in that anyway. Sight is useless to him, his arms are too heavy, his reflexes to slow and his skill to small to use any opening his eyes could find.
But that doesnt matter.this isnt a battle of skill anymore after all and because of this.
He refuses to hear Archers words. He refuses to hear the truth even though it is undeniable right in front of him. He ignores that this stolen dream can bring only pain to him and those around him. He can not accept the man in front him. The proof that Emiyas ideal is not something worth dying.
More than that, it shows that such a twisted ideal should not even be worth fighting for.
FOOL
So he curses the ignorant child in his head, without a single word leaving his lips, showering him with curses and insults for being who he is. For not being able to change himself. For not allowing himself to be changed. That childnothat man, he realizes, is desperately trying to stay on the way he has been following for so long.
A path that can only lead to ruin, for its final destination will always be the same.
That cursed hill.
The hill of swords where only shattered blades and broken dreams remain. The place where Shirou Emiya will one day realize the futility of his wish. So he curses at the fool in front of him.
Every time their swords clash. FOOL
Each time he thinks the boy will fall FOOL
Every time the boy crashes through his defences FOOL
Each time the childs words make him pause FOOL
Every time he refuses to step back and let his enemy fall down FOOL
And with the seemingly never ending sound of steel hitting steel in his ears and the sparks of clashing blades dancing in front of his hate-filled eyes, Archer wonders.
When did he start cursing himself instead?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Night Before
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He is an enigma to her. This black swordsman. The servant they call Assassin.
Though, it is debatable if he can even be considered a servant. That man breaks too many rules by simply existing. For him to be a normal servant, the thought is laughable at best.
He has no master, yet he remains in this world.
His master was her masters enemy, yet he fought against Caster, going against her orders, indirectly as it may have been.
So she watches him, watches him as he nods to whatever Ilyasviel is saying. Another mystery, why does he protect the girl whose servant he has killed? Why does he care about her at all?
Guilt?
No, somehow she does not think so butshe can admit to herself that she is not especially good at understanding peoples emotions. She is too much of a king and not enough of a person for that. That is the fate of a king, to always stand apart from her people. To protect them and rule them but to never be one of them.
Still, she continues to watch as he lays the girl to sleep. A flicker of amusement fills her. It is a wonder how such an act can look so gentle yet so gruff at the same time. Surely that manhe is not someone that is suited for this kind of care yet he seems to be used to it.
She waits till he leaves the room before she moves next to him, standing in the hallway she is granted with a clear view of the night sky.
Neither of them speaks for a while. She does not know how to ask the question that plagues her mind and he as nothing to ask of her.
The silence annoys him a bit though. It was different before, but now he hates it. Because when no one is talking, everyone is thinking.
Annoying. Thinking is such an annoyance.
Back then it was okay, to think of better times, of old comrades, to fantasize about his revenge. He liked those thoughts. They were all that mattered.
Stupid Elf was the beginning of the end of that particular habit.
And after him.well it wasnt all bad.
Thats why he doesnt like the silence anymore. He prefers the noise of people talking actually. It suits him better, having the voices of others in the background.
But at times like this he doesnt want to think about anything at all, especially not about himself or the others back THERE.
Still, there is one sound that fits him even better.
Always has and always will.
The sound of battle will always calm him more than any talking or music ever would. The sound of steel crashing upon steel and the sound of swords cutting through flesh and leather.
The sound of blood being spilled and of guts getting skewered.
He pauses at that thought.
A flicker of irony fills him as he thinks about the meaning behind that sentence.
Its sad but true.
He grins at the night sky, revealing his white teeth in something that can only be called some sick and twisted incarnation of a smile.
Finally the silence is broken, Sabers words slicing through it just as surely as her blade would.
Why do you help us, Assassin, what is it that you seek here? Why do you fight for us? Her voice is gentle; there is no accusation in it. After watching him she thinks that she has finally gained a sense of understanding about him or if not him at least of his reasons.
Assassin closes his eye for a second, as if he were lost in thought, before drawing in a deep breath of the cold night air. A small white tendril escapes from his mouth; twisting upwards it disappears in the air.
Why fight? Thats the easy thing to answer. His words are spoken softly and when he finishes he taps his sword, sending her a significant look.
His finger continues to rest upon the edge, small and insignificant compared to the unwieldy lump of steel he calls a blade.
The Sword. An odd quality, her voice definitely has an odd quality as she speaks those words, he notes.
Yeah, Money, Pride, Revenge, the Greater Good and all that shit.doesnt really matter when it gets bloody and the other bastard is out to cut you open. That has nothing to do with why we fight. As long as you have a sword in your hand you fightits as easy as that.
It is no question.
The black swordsman speaks those words with full conviction.
And the king of knights only nods, because she too believes this to be truth.
Thats why the boy will win. He speaks again, without any prompting at all, surprising Saber yet again.
Hes just like us, as long as he has a sword he won stop. Thats why he wont lose tomorrow.
A small smile is his only answer.
She cant tell if he tried to comfort her or simply spoke the truth as he saw it but she guesses for the latter. He is not the type to sugar-coat things for anyone.
Yet a question remains.
Why do you protect her then?
No idea he pauses for a moment as he tries to voice his thoughts when it comes to the little girl he considers his master right now.
That girl reminds of someone, I guess. Such simple words. Just as expected, he does not waste thoughts on his situation, he simply does what he wishes to do. A giant of a man that could have been a king she thinks, but he prefers being responsible only for himself, his friends, that girl?
Next to his large frame Saber seems even smaller then before when he looks at her.
An illusion, he has not forgotten the strength that lithe body hides so well from view. Her blows are strong and her sword will not break, even from his Dragonslayer.
Besides, right now her strength is beyond what she had possessed in their first battle, even he can tell just from being near her. It is an aura of strength that wraps itself around the girl like a mantle or an armour.
So you protect herjust because you feel like it?
Sounds about right, why not? The girl has got guts. He grins after saying this, as if it is some kind of joke, but if it was she cant say she knows of it.
But its just like the girl said, as long as I keep on swinging my sword she wont be hurt.
Watching the snickering man Saber cocks her head to side.
Then
A smile, small as it can be, blooms on her face. Maybe she finally found her answer to the puzzle in front of her. Whatever answer she was able to find, she is happy with it.
You would have made a good knight, Assassin and I agree with your assessment, Shirou will not die tomorrow, and neither will Ilya as long you continue to swing your sword so full of conviction. Good Night.
With those words she leaves him be.
And the black swordsman still stares at the spot where she had been even after 5 minutes have passed by.
His single eye glows in the darkness for a moment as he looks directly at the moon.
Its a clear night.
A knight, eh? Nothing bad about that, I guess butme. a knight.nah, I just aint made for all that marble, gold, honour and that prissy noble shit.
He hefts his sword up again and makes his way to the room he was given, his steps slow and ponderous.
Before he enters the room he throws one last look at the moon.
Its a nice night.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here and Now
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How many times have their swords clashed against each other in the last few minutes?
Once?
Twice?
Or was it a thousand times?
He cant tell. He cant tell if he is gaining ground, cant tell is he is winning or losing. He doesnt even know if anything is happening at all.
There is only one thing that he knows.
The most important thing.
To keep on fighting.
He understands that it is the only thing that matters, it doesnt matter if his fingers are broken already, doesnt matter if his arms are slashed or his chest sliced open, doesnt matter if he cant see anything but THAT with his eyes.
As long as he keeps on swinging his swords it doesnt matter.
None of it matters.
He strikes at his enemy will all the strength he has left.
He shouldnt even be standing.
Another slash, this time with the other twin-sword, the blows strength forces Archers blade back for a moment, eliciting a surprised flicker on Archers face.
He should be dead on the ground.
Again he strikes, giving his opponent no time for a breather, his sword coming down violently upon Archers and sending painful vibrations through both their arms.
No mere magus could possibly defeat a Heroic Spirit.
There is no end; every attack that looks like it is the last resort his body can make leads into another one.
It simply was not possible.
It does not matter.
Nothing matters to him anymore.
Nothing but the realisation that he must keep on fighting.
No matter how broken his body his, no matter what his senses tell him, no matter that winning should not even be a possibility.
All that matters to him now is to keep swinging his swords.
He wont give up. He cant give up. He owes that to himself. He owes it to the people that died back then. He owes it to the people that are dieing right now because no one is there for them.
Because, maybe there is someone out there, just one person really and that person might be in danger. He or she might be facing certain death. Surrounded by fire from all sides, maybe that person has accepted his death and yet
Maybe that person is still wishing for a hero even when he is so close to death
For someone that can save him and everyone else.
He cant stop.
He wont stop.
He will keep on swinging those swords till he dies. Even if that hill of swords becomes his grave. Even if the people he saves will hate him.
He will still swing those swords.
Because nothing else matters.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When their pitched battle finally comes to an end, Archer can see it.
He sees the blow before it is even halfway finished. It is not enough to break through his guard. It is too slow to surprise him.
An attack like this is nothing to be feared.
As a servant he realizes that it is not this blade that will seal his fate.
The moment he hears the words, that is when his movement simply stops. That is when the blade raising up to parry that brutish blow stops and he becomes open to this weak little attack from a half-dead man-child.
Those soft-spoken words.
It wasnt a mistake.
He can not parry them. He can not block them. He can not UN-hear them.
There is no defence against those words. No Noble Phantasm can stop them from penetrating his heart. No amount of self-control can help him ignore them.
The moment he hears them, nearly drowned out by the sound of hammering steel, he understands.
Thisis his total defeat.
Even though this is a battle without victor or a loser. Even though nothing could be gained or lost here.
He has lost becausehis reason is weak. His heart is weak. His pain has made him weak.
Pain and misery have robbed him of the strength he once had. The strength born in fire, nurtured by that broken man and sharpened upon that hill of swords.
And he remembers, Emiya, remembers the man that would not stop fighting.
He remembers the hero that would not falter, no matter how many scorned him, no matter how much pain he was in or that he could not save everyone. The one that would not allow himself to give up.
And when the blade comes closer he UNDERSTANDS.
The reason why he lost, the reason why Emiya Shirou was the only logical winner of this battle. The reason why his thousand upon thousands of swords could not stop the man in front of him.
Even though it was a construct. Even though it was not the original body.
This, was his body, or as perfect a copy as it could get.
Killing Emiya Shirou, would be nothing more than giving up.
Such a thing could never happen.
Because this body, broken, shattered and torturedwould simply not allow itself to give up, would not allow Emiya to give up.
He doesnt feel pain when the steel penetrates his flesh. Not that he feels any pleasure either. He simply accepts it. This outcome, as absolute impossible as it should have been, makes sense to him. Nothing was lost. Nothing was gained.
Nothing but a short and sudden realization.
That man had no regrets.
Even on that hill of swords, even when he was dyinghe had no regrets.
And because of this, he kept on fighting. For a better world. For those that couldnt save themselves.
For everything he believed in.
Archer closes his eyes, letting the sudden calmness that fills him now wash over him like a purifying bath, as he stands there, sword in his chest, his younger self still clutching the sword even as blood begins to run down the edge and darken Shirous already stained shirt.
That girl,. always messes up when it comes to some things during important events.
His voice is calm and as he keeps his eyes closed when he speaks.
Sometimes she cant see the obvious and she isnt very honest when it comes to her true feelings.
When he opens his eyes again, they immediately meet his younger counterparts eyes.
But she is an excellent master and I can trust her with my life.she is Rin.besides an idiot like meneeds someone to stop him from doing stupid things.
The boy falls to the floor as the sword in his hand fades away. Still he tries to sit up again and looks at his opponent one more time.
I know how Tohsaka can beand.I will protect her.with those swords and with those hands, I will keep her safe.
SHIROU
Saber jumps the last few metres separating them, immediately checking for any serious injuries that even Avalon might have problems healing.
It is a pity, really. They do not see Archers face as he turns around and walks away.
ARCHER
The shout stops him when he already has reached the door, drawing the attention of all three of them to Rin, her face flushed red now that she has freed herself and ran through the entire castle.
She wants to say something.
Anything really.
But for a moment she sees him standing in the light that falls through the door and then
He smiles.it is.warmno..more than just warmthe girl flushes even more seeing that kind of smile directed at her.
Please take care of that idiot me back there, Master. He will need it.
He does not need to hear her whispered Archer to know what she said as he finally turns around and leaves, his body already starting to fade away the moment he passes completely through the door.
Yet a single thought keeps on making him smile even as he disappears.
Truly
The only winner today was Shirou Emiya.
I have no regrets.