Chapter Text
Rin never told Shirou about her dreams, hoping to forget about them one day. She promised she would.
She saw a thunderstorm looming over the desert, only a deafening clangor poured down instead of rain. The colossal metal blades grinded, collided, sparked in the twilight. The death knell. The sword cemetery. She wandered among the shattered tombstones in search of the master of these land. Even now Rin looked for him in every dream.
On nights like this, she pressed closer to Shirou’s back and, until the sun began to rise, couldn’t find rest.
“Did you sleep bad, Tohsaka?” he asked her in the morning.
“Just hate getting up early.” Sometimes she sleepily leaned in to him, sometimes—hid her tear-stained face. “Can we stay in bed a little longer?”
Shirou quietly run his fingers through her locks spread across the bedsheets. He hesitated longer each time, but always yielded. Rin was resolved to ask what was on his mind, but some other time. When he frowned like that, she needed to kiss him, eyes closed, and prolong her haunting, familiar dream.
The noise flooded her head again. The barren lands were now shrouded in red. The mage shielded her face from the dusty wind and glanced around—there had never been sunsets before. The sea of swords shimmered in the sunrays, casting long, dark tails towards the East. I have to return before it’s dark, she feared. The road lead her further. A lone red star flickered over the horizon, calling upon three scars on her palm. Guilt drowned in the sound of the skies clanging.
The lack of warmth next to her shook Rin awake. The breakfast on her bedside table long went cold. Shirou left a while ago. Did he forget to leave a note? Before Rin climbed out of bed, she had to dry angry tears.
When Emiya’s back home, she’ll thank him. This idea fended off troubling thoughts as she tidied up and made a shopping list. From now on, she’s the one making every dinner, Rin decided. Happy with herself, she changed the pillowcase still wet from tears. It’s one more step towards the life she imagined—no, promised. The life you want to go back to, the life that’s impossible to give up. Shirou counted on her.
“Even if the Grail changed something, it’s not permanent,” she cheered him on. The lad smiled, albeit not the way he used to. His face more and more reminded Rin of her unhealed wound. “We won after all.”
And then she dreamt of the moonlight slit open by the scarlet spells.
Someone’s arms carry her body through the night. Someone puts the old pendant around her neck, brushing against her back by accident. Blood soils her hands, she cannot see it on the red clothes. She hesitates for one moment, in the next—her fingers feel nothing. She makes an impossible promise instead of saying goodbye. She tries to bring his face out of her memory, and all she sees are the gallow under the thundering clouds.
Rin froze over the chopping board. Out of habit, she almost gripped the back of her hand, but stopped. She loved Shirou very much. They’ll spend this evening together, in peace, and at night Rin simply won’t go to bed.