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"SABER!!!"
It ends in a flash, twin swords produced from a product of a borrowed spark crave their mark onto her, her organs splatter and spine fractures like a common soldier. Leaving her to brace the cold abyss.
She groans in pain, but it is pointless. Her body is a weapon crafted from doubt and mystery, and so would render such fatal wounds obsolete in a matter of minutes.
Minutes she supposedly doesn't have. And she wonders when the last blow will be delivered, sniffing out the last remnant of her being and spirit, all to attain the single goal of achieving a solace victory.
….
Spirit and technique, flawless and firm.
She feels a memory. A single goal, pursued by all swords present.
Our Strength rips the mountains.
All around the Round Table, where all the wielders of those blades swore to protect those who needed it, to protect the weak's lives, hope and dignity.
Our swords split the water.
Would the Knights of the Round Table find insult? Would they abandon and toss her aside if she had ever given in to her deepest doubts, locked away behind an inhumanity they despised so greatly?
Life reaches the imperial villa.
Perhaps in a way... it was their souls who were fighting her. Perhaps that nostalgic feeling she felt as she was impaled from all sides... like a circle…. blades in harmony, destined to walk the path of heaven together.
Two great men, one shared life!
......It doesn't matter as of now.
Not when she has given everything and ended up with nothing.
Nothing is present, and the darkened world holds no answer to her sin, rather accepting it and making her embrace it. Contorting the good into what it is supposed to hide from the world, one's doubts and evil given form. She is simply the harbinger of its rampage, all to drive in one simple truth in her mind.
It does not matter, nothing she does ever matters in the end. Except failure and destruction, because that is all her existence entails, and all she'll ever bring to the world. A black sun that devours the light, and swallows everything, forcing the world to orbit around twisted reflections and forgotten ideals.
She does not know, rather holds onto the belief that she is the black sun, but how could she when she was nothing more than a byproduct of the darkness? Consumed and used like everything else in her life.
So she stares at the heavens, and musters the last amount of sympathy within her to utter, "...You have grown strong, Shirou."
…..
No response is given, empty silence fills the void in her heart and mind. The boy presumably lays on the ground, and she has no time left to either reject or accept, as she's moved past either concept. She is simply waiting for an end. An end that is required, for the boy's abandonment of his life to atone for his sins and actions.
Are you my Master? She remembers a weakling, unaware of the harsh reality awaiting him, and her duty to him.
SABER! She remembers bravery and courage masked as stupidity and recklessness, charging in to save a blooded servant against a beast beyond his reckoning.
Shirou, may we prevail and seek our glory. She remembers a promise, uttered within a heart and with understanding that neither of them should share, yet did. A promise that feels like ages ago, bestowed by a King that feels like a distant creature; A star that shines away from the black abyss, illuminating yet beyond her comprehension.
I love you Shirou.
She wonders again, briefly entertaining the thought of someone like her being saved. No, she cannot be saved, for such an act implies her efforts to change destiny are inherently flawed. And she'll never accept that in the past, believing everything is her own fault and selfishly claiming responsibility when she never needed to.
She is different now, changed, her doubts and hidden side now reflected in all their twisted and broken glory. She is ugly, terrible, dangerous and ruthless. So is the mask of humanity she discarded long ago.
It is why, now when all hope would be replicated and brought back by the man awaiting his rebirth, that she looks past and believes for one last time. "No, that is wrong. You were strong from the start." A statement that resonates a truth, but one she could only fully grasp at the very end.
A meaningful declaration, acknowledgement which moves past corruption and onto the world itself, echoing in her mind on repeat. Her ragged breaths make the words sound bitter and desperate, but it is not the truth. Not now, and she awaits.
…
…
…
A heartbeat, bones snapping back into place, and with pace that would surely draw an immediate reaction. So why? Why won't he just finish this? Does he still hold hesitation with his movements? Right when victory is so near. Does the thought drive him away?
No, she won't accept that. "Please end this battle. My body will regenerate if you do not hurry." She speaks in a way that's borderline a plea, a selfish, disgusting monster begging a boy to put a stop to her tyranny.
There's no reply.
"...Shirou?" Emotion pours into something unreachable, a dark container filled and brimmed with filth and darkness. A single drop that brings colour into the container for one final time. Unattainable now, the spark is engulfed and forgotten all the same. She believes it is to be true.
Then she turns, and it brings back that forgotten spark, light shines through cruel eyes and stares into emptiness above anything she has ever seen. More than the Darkness that has swallowed her whole, and turned her beliefs, mistakes, failures, and ideals into nothingness.
There is a difference in her mind. Her blade is a tool of destruction, brought down to whoever imposed her Master no matter the target. Vanishing their rebellion and conflict in darkness and flame. Removing any reminder of life that had once wielded their right in freedom and joy.
She stares at his frame, arm burdened by a relic and the other a forgotten piece of the simple past. His eyes hold no fire in them, eyes that were forged from hell after hell, but rather, a cold and haunting emptiness. There is nothing to be said about his state, her moral structure behind such an action should have been severed the moment she parted ways with Shirou.
………
He breathes, she does not.
His heart beats with life that is her stagnation.
He stares to the heavens, she does not.
Yet, why is she the one who held the flame, no matter how corrupted, within her? Why is she, the nothingness, while Shirou, the one who's limits pushed him to break them, the emptiness. When his body bled with life and will, where was his counterattack? Where was his victory? Why was she still here?
Why? Why? Why? Why?
…..
He was a boy with dreams like his servant, projecting his imagination into reality while she projected the reality of her legends and birthright. A simple boy and a king, Master and Servant, their fate interwoven in ways not even the king would understand. Yet she never complains, cherishing the moments they share even when the world turns into a hellscape in the making.
He still fights, with or without his King. To grasp an ideal that no longer matters now, to save a girl that is the cause for his destruction, and now, once projection and reality merge completely. His mortal mind gave in.
For that fact alone, no matter how grim his life was, may he pass on with a victory.
"Then….I have won, Shirou." There is no emotion given out.
Darkness is replaced with light that shines her sin and failure, there she stands atop of the hill, broken and lost. There is nothing but dead bodies scattered and blood that tastes like ash. She is responsible for this massacre, unable to understand, and the light is a cruel mistress. Illuminating her fresh tears until they fade away like everyone else.
She is used to failure and oppression. Soldiers that die meaningless in her rule, and enemies that she oppresses and subsequently tore apart in order to ensure her victory above all. This is the right of the strong that rule over the weak, heroes that stand above all and usher in a new age with their might, cutting down foes alike.
This is nothing new. Nothing special. Just the natural cycle of life that she has pushed forward like every other figure in history. There is nothing worthwhile to delve into, her mind is something she believes is already firm on her limited grasp of human nature.
So she wonders once again, the true limit of such a nature. "Seven more minutes....Can you release Sakura by then, Rin?" It is a worthless question to entertain, let alone voice out. Not for the sheer impossibility, but for the fact it ultimately means nothing for her on what would become of them.
She has no tears for what they, and she, lost. No words dare escape her lips, the dark heavens being the only sight that would bring her mind into order. And so, she awaits…
A tremor rumbles in the distance, for what it would entail and for who tipped the scales, did not matter to her anymore. Her heart can only produce the slightest bit of pity at her their current predicament.
Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou. It did not matter who emerged the victor, the one who would lighten their path and extend his hand with a warm, gentle smile. Who would travel through hell within hell if it meant their safety.
The one who would bless them is no longer in this world.
What once was, and she is left alone atop of the hill, once again.
Once more, the cycle begins. For how long would this play out, it does not matter. She doubts any answer could make up for the difference.
All begins where it ends…
At the Throne of the top, a forgotten fairytale.