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Shirou can’t move.
He can’t breathe.
But then again, neither can Rin.
One moment they were standing in the courtyard of the church.
The next Caster had burned a hole through Tohsaka’s chest.
He thinks it skimmed the side of her heart, not the center, because Rin’s still clinging to life a minute later with sweat dripping down her body.
It’s mingling with blood.
And he’s holding her head in his lap, whispering sweet nothings about how she’ll be fine.
Even he doesn’t believe it.
For all the optimism Emiya Shirou holds, he can’t put a positive spin on this. Tohsaka Rin is dying, and he doesn’t have any healing magic like she does.
He’s utterly useless.
So he does what he can: cradles her head, strokes her hair.
She gives him a small smile, one that’s laced with pain and sorrow. She’s trying to be strong.
One of them has to be.
When he sees a drop of water fall onto her face, he knows he’s crying. Silent tears spill from his eyes, and Rin reaches a weak hand to the edge of his face. It’s shaking, and he can tell she can’t move it any farther. His hand falls on top of hers, and he holds it to his face, trying to find her normal warmth.
He can feel it fading.
Her eyes become wide, and she gasps, free hand shooting to her wound as she tries to ease the pain. “Don’t cry for me,” she whispers. The cough she lets loose makes his heart stop and he watches as blood drips down her chin.
He can’t help think that she’s never looked more beautiful.
He knows he’s probably delusional, that the hurt of her dying in his arms is making him think strange things.
He thinks he might love her.
But love is such a strong word for two teenagers, high on hormones, still finding their way in the world.
Her weak fingers tug at his face, and he leans down to hear her ever-growing faint whisper. Her bright red lips open so slightly he can barely hear her speak.
“Kiss me.”
And he does, and it’s a desperate, last moment kiss, and they both know their first kiss will be their last. Then her body starts shaking violently and her fingers find some strength, because he’s sure there are bruises—which he never wants to go away—in the shape of her fingers on his arm.
He pulls her close, rocking her back and forth.
She stops shaking.
He looks down at her still body—which he refuses to call a corpse—and her vacant gem-like eyes, and he begins to sob. He resumes rocking her body, and begins to whisper utter nonsense to the vessel of what used to hold his love.
Through the haze of his mind he hears Caster’s chuckle, sees her shadow cast over the ground where he is crouched.
She raises Rule Breaker.
And he realizes he feels no fear, no anything. All of the things he cared about mean nothing now.
He doesn’t care when Caster brings down the dagger.
I’ll see you soon, Tohsaka.