Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the shirt on my back. You'd think that'd be obvious by now.
Repaying Debts
Emiya Shirou can't stop smiling.
He's been fighting for the past hour straight. His arms burn, his sword feels like it weighs a ton, and he's bleeding from several wounds. But he can't stop smiling.
He can't because it worked. His plan, audacious (or as Rin preferred to term it, suicidal) as it was, had worked.
His arm swings again, sword made of rock and steel battering its way through another hapless victim.
It had taken years to cobble together all the necessary ingredients, to meet all the requirements Tohsaka had placed on him before she would agree to help him. He knows that she was just trying to stall, with all those restrictions and requirements. He knows she didn't want to see him leave. But he didn't have a choice.
He twists violently, swinging the slab-like blade through a charging horse, before backhanding an approaching enemy, and bringing his blade down with an audible crunch.
He has to do this.
He knows he's changed since he's last seen her. He knows now that he can't save everyone. He accepts it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't try his damnedest to save as many as he can.
He knows he can't save these men he fights. He knows that they would kill him as soon as look at him.
Even then, the wounds he inflicts maim and cripple more than they kill.
His eyes narrow as another armored soldier rushes at him. His enormous blade rips through the air, tearing the knight in question in half. He pauses as the battle ebbs around him, trying to catch his breath.
His eyes fall on the blade he has been using to sow death and discord among the enemy ranks. Deep in his chest, he feels a pang of sympathy for those unfortunate enough to feel the bite of this blade. After all, he's felt it himself, when the weapon was wielded by its true owner. But his sympathy doesn't stay his hand. And it's honestly the best weapon for his plan.
After all, he thinks, for a Herculean task, one should have a Herculean blade as well.
Something catches his eye, and his breath hitches. He charges back into the fray, fighting with a wild abandon. He's so close now. His goal's nearly in his grasp. All the work, all the training, is coming to a head.
His enormous sword, almost as long (and as wide) as he is, feels like air, as it rends and tears anything that gets in his way. His legs no longer burn with exertion. His wounds no longer gnaw at the edge of his consciousness.
He strikes down a final armor-clad knight, and steps into a clearing. He can hear his heart pounding.
This is it.
Two warriors clash again and again in the middle of the clearing. One is exhausted and battle-worn, yet unyielding. The other is fresh and uninjured, pressing the advantage. With each blow, the weary warrior gives ground, defenses buckling. Suddenly the exhausted knight's sword, a sword he knows so well, sees in every dream, is knocked across the clearing…
Tohsaka never understood why he had to do this. She thought that love was his only motivation. Oh, how wrong she was.
…and Shirou finds himself across the clearing, under the foe's guard, swinging his crude weapon into the enemy. The opponent crumples like a tin can hit by a semi-truck. He turns to look into wary green eyes…
Oh, he loves her, there was never any doubt of that. But it was not love that drove him to do this.
"…Arturia Pendragon." He murmurs softly. A gasp, followed by narrowed eyes. Shirou's smile grows impossibly wider. Just seeing her makes his heart soar. But he does not forget his purpose.
He thrusts the demi-god's blade into the blood-soaked soil, and kneels before her…
It was Duty that orchestrated this insane attempt.
"…I have come to fight by thy side, my Lord." He intones, praying to any deity that might be listening that she accept his offer…
She saved his life more times than he could count.
…and almost drops bonelessly to the ground, as relief sweeps through him when he sees her genuinely considering what he suggested.
It was long past time for him to start repaying that debt.
END.