Emiya Shirou wanted to be a hero.
He had walked a long path to get to his current point: confronting himself, both inside and out, on the futility and fakeness of his own ideals; dueling Gilgamesh, King of Heroes; destroying the corrupted Holy Grail—
And yet he found himself, in the dead of night, only a matter of weeks after Saber disappeared, walking the long lonely way to the Church on the Hill.
The canopy of the stars stretched out above him, as a gentle breeze swept through his hair and tugged at the ends of his jacket. He drew in a deep breath, the earthy scents of the forest filling him.
Peace.
He walked slowly, without any deep urgency or need or mission; he had only a question, and he expected he'd find no answer. He hadn't before; and Archer, who walked the same path he did, never found one either. He ended his journey on a hill of swords with no answers; no solutions.
It was the question of his ideal.
In one sense, it didn't matter. He had made his choice; the fight with Archer still rang fresh in his mind, the taste of blood and steel on his lips. He would walk this path with no regrets; that is who Emiya Shirou wanted to become. Someone who saves everyone. Even if it's impossible, and even if it's someone else's dream.
It can't be wrong to save people.
But that doesn't answer a deeper question, which continued to plague him.
Why is it beautiful?
Shirou had no motivation for it himself; it was inherited from Kiritsugu; or, perhaps more accurately said, it was admired in Kiritsugu. The joy he had on saving Shirou; the sense of purpose and total devotion; the way he threw himself into the flames and dug a dying boy out…
It was beautiful. What he did and living a life devoted to that—to radically abandon everything else to save everyone: such a life is unheard of.
But wouldn't it be beautiful?
He knew it was. He just didn't know why; and even if he did know why, it didn't seem to apply to him.
Emiya Shirou only knew one thing: saving people wasn't wrong. Even if he didn't have the right motivations, or the right foundation, or the right reason, or the right method—
He can't be wrong in walking his path of a hero, even if it ends on a lonely hill of swords.
And so he walked, up and down the winding roads of Fuyuki, over the bridge and up the hill and finally ending at a building he really rather hated.
The Church on the Hill, where he learned the terrible truth of the Fifth Holy Grail War.
Why did he come here? He wasn't entirely sure, but there's something to be said about churches and the dead of night. It's a place of peace. Almost of a certain kind of interior intimacy, as well. It's in the dead of night that the suffering fly to this place of prayer and reflection, weeping their silent tears; it's in the darkness and solitude that a conflicted man will come and kneel to pray and find himself again.
The church, regardless of the proclivities and sins of the former pastor, remained a sanctuary for the lost; and Shirou was searching.
The dual oak doors creaked open as he snuck inside, letting a whisper of wind slide in behind him. The light scent of incense tickled his nose, likely left over from yesterday's Masses (held by a visiting priest in Kotomine's absence). Settling into a pew, he cast his gaze to the front of the church and grew silent.
The church itself was mostly bare, befitting the religion of the poor in the town. Besides an ancient organ, the front held only the altar, a tabernacle, and the centerpiece of any Catholic Church: a crucifix.
Shirou's eyes rested on the wooden figure, hanging from a cross.
"…that's where this path leads, doesn't it?" He said, almost a whisper. "To die alone on a hill."
To follow the ideal of saving everyone requires everything; that's partially what attracted Shirou to it in the first place. Every little bit. Nothing held back. Fully committed; some might say fully alive.
The sculpture remained silent. Shirou glanced down at his hands. "Is it a coincidence?" He chuckled. "To think Archer also found his end on a Hill. As will I."
But it's worth it. The thought rang through his mind. I won't regret it, even if it ends in the same place.
Because it's beautiful. He raised his gaze.
Giving everything away to save others—
I can think of no greater life to live.
Then he heard, as quiet as a whisper:
"Do you really want to give everything?"
Shirou started, jumping up from the pew; but a quick glance told him he was alone. Not even the slightest sign of another life or creature of any kind.
"Yes," he said, shifting. Even if he hadn't actually heard anything, perhaps due to his paranoia or all the unrelieved stress of the Holy Grail War, he wanted to respond.
That's who he wanted to be.
I'm sorry, Rin, he thought. I love you. That's true, without a doubt. And I'd love to be with you, from now till the End.
But I can't give everything away if I give myself to you.
Shirou's heart swelled, a hidden passion awakening. Because there are people who need saving—people suffering. People in need.
I want to be a hero who saves everyone, and that means I can hold nothing back. Not for my love for cooking, nor for my school, nor Fugi-nee, nor Sakura, nor even you, Rin.
I have no regrets; this is the only path.
"Then rejoice, Emiya Shirou," a voice spoke, low and deep like a rolling drum, echoing through the church. "Your wish will be granted."
Shirou leapt up from the pew, instinctively Tracing Kanshou and Bakuya. That voice—!
The voice chuckled. "You are the victor of the Holy Grail War; is it not fitting to take your prize?"
"Kirei." Shirou crouched, his eyes sweeping over the church; however, he couldn't see anyone. The voice itself seemed disembodied, not coming from any particular direction. "You're supposed to be dead!"
"Kirei is dead," the voice said. "This is merely his form. He was an important man in your life—and in your father's life."
"Kiritsugu?" Shirou frowned. "What has this to do with him?"
"Everything," the voice said, in the mocking tone of the deceased priest. "After all, he, too, won the Holy Grail. He, too, made a wish."
"I know," Shirou said. "But it betrayed him. His wish was to save the world in a way that didn't leave anyone behind, but the Holy Grail was corrupted."
"Indeed." The voice turned a tad more gleeful—and malicious. "But the Holy Grail is, ultimately, a wish granting device. His wish, even now, is still being granted."
"What?" Shirou had heard more of the Fourth Holy Grail War after his own had ended; not all the details, but mainly and especially those of its players and its ultimate result: the Fuyuki Fire.
He knew enough that Kiritsugu's wish was never granted. The Holy Grail was destroyed.
"Yes. It was destroyed, boy, and so the Grail's plans never came to fruition in this world. But the Grail isn't limited to just this world."
Shirou's throat went dry.
"We still are granting Kiritsugu's wish; but now it is time to grant yours." The voice laughed, as the church rumbled. "Rejoice, boy! Your wish will be granted!"
At once, as if in a nightmare, the roof began to leak thick tendrils of a black tar-like mud, flooding the church and covering the door.
"We?! There can't be the 'we' you're referring to!" Shirou turned to sprint out the door, but hesitated at the mass of darkness gathering across the doorway. "Saber destroyed the Holy Grail! This isn't possible!"
"You cannot destroy 'all evils of the world' without destroying what caused it in the first place," the voice said, as the muck began to rise into a small flood, cornering Shirou in the center of the church. "That was the problem with Kiritsugu's wish; he did not understand the nature of the problem, nor the nature of the miracle. Arturia's holy sword is not enough. Unlimited Blade Works is not enough. The Heaven's Feel is not enough." The voice chuckled, once more, as the tide swept in towards a helpless Shirou. "Only Death is enough, as you shall soon see."
Emiya Shirou's world tilted as the black tide reached him, and his vision of the church, eerie and beautiful as it was, sank into darkness.
"Yes: you shall see, and you shall rejoice…"
And he could hear, as if far in the distance, the ominous hum of an organ and the whispers of the Holy Grail…
Author's Note:
I'm back with a new story! I've been gone for a while, working on a murder mystery novel, which I finished - five times so far, haha. And I'm still not satisfied with it. So I'm taking a break to write a new book that I'm pretty passionate about. Which is this! A Fate/stay night and RWBY crossover! (I only just recently started watching RWBY and loved it; wanted to write this pretty much right away.)
I've already planned the thing out for a long while yet (and written a good amount of it), so you can be assured this won't be a one or two shot fanfic like my other (more popular) stories. Updates should be weekly (or sooner!), as I write daily; a good habit to have.
Please note this will not be a Nasuverse lore-heavy story; I see the extended Nasuverse in the same unpleasant light as I do the extended Marvel or DC Comics universe lore. I'm more interested in individuals and their stories; but Superman seems more 'super' than man at times, and the more you pull out from the simple plight of humanity and the story of normal men, the less real and empathetic it seems. Even with all his abilities, Shirou is human, through and through; its his pursuit of an ideal and the very human limits of his abilities that keeps him plausible, and thereby relate-able. Anyway, point is: there are other stories that will have more in-depth Nasuverse stuff for those of you who love it. While it can certainly be cool, it's not going to be much of an element in my story. I'll pull in Shirou's abilities, and that's probably going to be the start and end of it.
That being said, I likely won't stray far from what we've seen of him in UBW. Just taking some parts to their logical conclusion.
Besides that, I won't be saying much else about where this story is going.
Enjoy the show!