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The tiger beastkin's face crunches under Shirou's fist and he's sent flying through the alleyway into a pile of garbage. Shirou doesn't even feel the pain of his bloody knuckles, just the usual white rage coursing through his veins against anyone trying to bring harm to Anima City. The man tries to rally his wits and climb out of the stinking garbage but before he can Shirou kicks him hard across the head and he's knocked out cold.
Shirou stands in the middle of the dark alley trying to bring his breath under control. The unconscious bodies of the three criminals he had just taken out lay around him. He closes his eyes, exhales a long breath and forces his fists to unclench. Now to tie them up and call in the police. Before that though his hand subconsciously digs into his coat pocket and he checks his mobile phone. There were three missed calls from Kagemori Michiru.
He clicks call back and puts it to his ear. It rings for an unusually long time before her perky voice replies “Hi”.
“Michiru what's wro-”
“You've reached my voicemail. I can't answer right now but” Shirou terminates the call, his mind suddenly jumping to the worst case scenario. Michiru had wanted to help him with his work and he had grudgingly let her. Right now she was supposed to be tailing one of the criminals while he took care of the group here. She was supposed to be keeping her distance, staying safe and out of sight.
He raises his snout and takes in a long sniff of the crisp night air trying to pick up Michiru's scent and quickly finds it trailing off into the distance. Leaving behind the criminals without tying them up Shirou ran after it.
The place where Michiru's scent came to an end was a warehouse next to the city docks. In the same direction was the strong, acrid smell of fresh blood. Shirou tore the lock off of the warehouse door with his bare claws and went inside in a daze. There was the soft plip, plip sound of water dripping coming from somewhere in the distance. He walks past the rows of containers scared of what he will find.
As he goes past one row a sight that makes him sick to the bottom of his stomach comes into view; a small figure in a red jacket lying face down in a puddle. In one hand there was a cracked mobile phone. He stumbles towards it falling on his knees, it feels like the world is spinning around him. No, no, no, he thinks as he turns the figure over with trembling hands.
It is of course Michiru and she's staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes. There was a dark patch on her stomach and when Shirou touches it his hand comes away covered in red.
“Shi...rou?” her voice calls out faintly into the darkness. Weak breaths flutter in and out of her lips. She was still alive, he wasn't too late. He pulls her into his arms, holding her tight and buries his head in her sobbing in relief. “I'm here Michiru, I'm here.”
“I'm sorry... I-” she trails off with a sigh. “Save your strength Michiru. Everything will be fine.” A tear runs down his face and plops onto her cheek. He uses his sleeve to wipe it away. She smiles weakly at him and then her head rolls back.
“Michiru! Michiru!” He shakes her gently but she doesn't rouse. Sliding one hand under her armpit and the other under her knees he stands up, Michiru's limp body cradled in his arms.
Shirou runs towards the lights of the city as fast as he can manage. Every second counts, she's not dead yet but he can feel her slipping away. The lights of the city blur into a streak as he heads towards his target; Medi-Cen. His legs burn, his chest burns and asphalt flies underneath him. He's pushing himself to his limit running as fast as he can but he grits his teeth and keeps going.
He doesn't care how much of a scene he causes when he kicks open the doors to the emergency room. Somebody screams in surprise.
“Doctor!” he shouts panting furiously. “Get me a doctor now!” They rush into action but to his eyes everything looks like it's happening in slow motion. Somebody rolls over a gurney to him and it takes him a while to understand that he's being told to put her down on it. He realises that he's been holding her in a death-grip and it's surprisingly hard to let go of her, but he forces himself to do so anyway. The doctors roll her away from him and he's left alone.
Shirou feels a wave of tiredness wash over him and he leans back against a hospital wall, sliding down it until he's sitting on the floor. He realises his white coat is covered in blood. Michiru's blood. He stares into nothingness trying not to think.
Shirou is not sure how long he had been sitting there before a shadow falls over him. He looks up and sees a doctor standing silently before him. “I'm sorry,” was all they said.
But of course Shirou knew that that was all the doctor ever could say. After all Michiru had already been dead when he had arrived at Medi-Cen. He had felt her heart stop and the wind snatch the last breath from her lips as he ran.
He just hadn't wanted to accept it.