[Disclaimer and Warning: I don't own the Type-Moon characters, settings and elements presented in this fanfiction; this work is a tribute to the creators of Fate/ Stay Night, and therefore not to be used for profit.
This fanfiction may contain some themes that may offend or stress some sensibilities. Please exercise an open-mind when reading this fanwork. Also, the work is set in an alternate universe.]
Leukocyte
It has been exactly a decade since Shinji has died of that accident in the highway.
The funny thing was, he was on his way out of Fuyuki City when it happened, riding on a bus to another neighboring district, trying to find a job, trying to start over again. Before he left and said goodbye to the two of us, he said that no amount of effort will erase his past crimes against me, my wife Sakura and everyone else he encountered, used and heavily inconvenienced back in the old days. He also added that day by day, he felt worse about himself while holing up in his apartment, trying not to talk to other people, fearing that he might lose himself again and be who he used to be. And since he also felt getting terribly older in each passing day of his isolation, he decided that the only thing he could do to revitalize himself was to move out of this city and find employment and residence in Misaki City.
But on that fateful day, the railroad from Fuyuki to Misaki was blocked by a landslide and they had to stop all train operations between the two cities for a couple of weeks just to clear it. We advised him that he should just wait until it gets repaired but he said, "No, Shirou. The job interview in Misaki is scheduled next week. I plan to get settled there before the day itself, so I have to go now. Besides, they can't just re-schedule the interview because there are also a lot of applicants wanting that position. The competition is getting tighter and this country's economy isn't like it used to be. I have to grab that chance." And so, carrying all his things with him in a travel bag and a backpack, he said his farewells to us, right before rode the bus to Misaki. His eyes were full of life and determination on that day, they were like saying that this was the moment he was waiting for, a new life, a new hope for the future. A future where he could be a good man, a hard worker and a person with something he could be proud of without the need of putting down other people.
Until we saw the news on the television, which said something has happened in the highway out of Fuyuki. They said a truck driver fell asleep behind the wheel and his propane tank truck hit a bus, sending them crashing to the roadside trees. The propane leaked out of the tanker and caught fire when the engine of the bus ignited and it made the two vehicles explode. The truck driver was able to get out and run away from his truck before the explosion happened, but he was injured. He was the only survivor of the incident.
According to the police investigation, the bus was on its way to Misaki City. And only one bus had it as its destination.
Again, it has been ten years since that accident happened. Things aren't as they used to be. No. The Copenhagen Bar has gone bankrupt and they decided that it wasn't worth it to try reviving the business for now. Besides, Neko-san herself said it; it seems as if the city is falling apart. Businesses were closing down one by one. The youth don't seem to care about their studies anymore and they don't seem happy about going out either. The buildings are getting old, bordering on dilapidation. The people here are getting apathetic and the city itself is emotionally silent, not enthusiastic about the future, not nostalgic about the past, not paying attention about the present. It has been like that for two years, and maybe it has something to do with the depressive economic climate of Japan right now. The only thing that I can consider a relief is the peacefulness of Fuyuki these days. Still, this kind of peaceful environment was only caused by the current mood of the city, as if the underground and shady side also does not want to bother revving itself up anymore. An aura of angst has loomed over this place, and everyone seemed to have resigned themselves to this kind of life.
And here I am, lying on my futon, resting and thinking about what could have happened if Shinji was still alive, waiting for Sakura to bring me the meal for today. I expect that it will be porridge, if not mashed potatoes, sometimes with a slice of bread.
After a few minutes, Sakura arrived with something different. She was carrying a bowl of broth, with a few bits of onion on it. She sat beside the futon I'm in and puts the bowl right next to her. It was clearly the time for me to eat.
The fact that I have to sit up straight just to get a tablespoon of the broth makes me frustrated already, as even such little movement makes me feel as if I will be exerting all of my energy on it. And even if I did that, I've lost all willingness to eat even a spoonful of broth, as with anything else. It's not that Sakura's cooking went worse during these days; it's the fact that I have this dragging feeling somewhere in my stomach, as if eating something as little as a spoonful is causing all of this uncomfortable sensation in my tummy, but it never did in the first place.
I then pushed the blanket away from my torso to start the effort of sitting up straight. It feels heavy, really heavy without Sakura's assistance. I fear that pushing something just little heavier that this thick cotton blanket will break my bones and leave open wounds, because the last time I had a wound, it didn't stop bleeding for hours. I then lift myself up from lying down to sit on the floor, which was a frustrating effort. But as of the usual routine when this happens, Sakura helped me lift myself up. And again, it made me realize that I couldn't do so without her.
And when I finally was able to sit up, the body pains went back again, as if I want to lie down in the futon once more. But as of everything I've done to help myself, I didn't want my wife to know that even sitting down was painful for me. I didn't want for her to worry too much about my condition, so I try to keep an aura to strength in me, even if I'm literally feeling aches all over my body. I try to breathe just to relax the pain, but even breathing for me is a chore, a harder practice of endurance.
When I caught I glimpse of my own skin from sitting up straight, I saw all the eerie red spots on my wrists, probably extending to the whole arm as it glanced out from the sleeves of my sweater. And the fact that the color on the skin in my hands faded away already reminded me that I wasn't who I used to be, that man who Sakura met back at Homurabara Academy, the one who she married and worked as this city's public servant, which provided her with everything she needed. Now I'm just another useless man who can't even practically lift himself up from the futon. When I went down from my position, I thought I will be able to live peacefully and spend the rest of my days with her, happy and without any worries. Then this happened, and more than half of my life's savings were spent on me. She even tried to sell those books they have at her old home, but even most of the Magi can't seem to afford them. I guess it wasn't just Japan who got hit hard in its wallets, isn't it?
Then, she went back to the bowl of broth again and lifted it up from beside the futon. She held it near me and took a spoonful of broth, then placed the spoon's filled bowl near my mouth with the bowl underneath it, just in case some of it might spill. I looked at the broth before it went into my mouth. There was nothing peculiar in the color, taste or smell of the broth, but I feel like I want to throw it out of my mouth. It has always been like this for me when it comes to food since everything happened. I think she overfed me with bread once and I had to vomit it out and it seemed like my lack of appetite was justified. I don't want to eat and if I ate too much, I throw up. Nevertheless, when I finally ate the spoonful of the chicken broth, it went down my throat smoothly, but I still feel unsatisfied.
Sakura then fed me a few more spoonfuls of the broth. And after the seventh time, I just said "I'm not hungry anymore, Sakura." My voice wasn't as clear as it was from my younger days. Everything I speak out right now sounds crackling and tired, and as much as I tried to clear out my tone, it would send me breathing heavily, so she suggested that I talk as it is, which I reluctantly accept.
"But…" Sakura tells with all saddened disappointment. It seems that she wanted to encourage me to eat a few more, but she knows that it would be a fruitless exercise. She then lowered down the bowl with a sigh of resignation, sending the whole room into a deafening silence as she looked at me in the eyes, which made her aura feel more as if she wants to help me, but can do anything more than what she is trying to handle right now. I didn't want to look at her directly with that kind of aura from her. It makes me feel weaker than what I am now.
She then tried to catch a direct glimpse of my eyes by moving her head just a bit more nearly and closely in front of mine. I can't help it but to finally look directly at her, which made me see her eyes, as she wants it to be. And from them, I saw that she was pleading at me, to help myself, to be just a bit stronger, a bit more patient and humble, that I should not assume that this will how I will end, almost just like my father.
After I saw her pleading eyes, I finally felt like I needed to make a small decision. I must help myself and help her, as I wasn't the only one suffering from this. I then told her "…Okay. One more spoonful, Sakura. Just one more." I can't force myself to eat, but just a bit more broth will be a good start, if I don't vomit this out.
And she did get a one more spoonful, then I slowly took the tip the spoon's metallic bowl into my mouth and slowly but silently sipped the chicken broth from it. Sakura looked a bit relieved from seeing take another spoonful of broth, but that feeling of restlessness from her never disappeared.
She then said to me "Dr. Ryuudo said that he might get delayed next week for about an hour, Shirou. He said that one of his other patients will be undergoing some important procedure." I was about to lie down back to my futon when she again assisted me in slowly and carefully placing my head back on top of the pillow. And after that, she stood up from her sitting beside the futon, cradling the bowl with her left land, with her right holding the bowl from its side, careful and firm. She added "And sister said that she might visit you next month. She…wants to see you better by then." Sakura delivered the two messages with a serene smile, but by the tone and intent of that message from her, I could say that Rin indeed did say that to Sakura and to me as well.
She was about to leave the room with the bowl of chicken broth with her when I turned towards her and called her out. "Sakura…" my voice still crackled. She then stopped for a while, her back turned on me.
"What is it, Shirou?" her cheerful tone never changed.
I was silent for a moment before I delivered the message "I…I'm sorry." I always wanted to say that to her. I always thought that I would be her protector, her shield and her hero. I've forsaken all of my ideals just for her, killed a lot of people, even the ones I treasured the most and I can never harm. Now, here she is, taking care of this helpless person lying on a futon, who needed to be assisted even in sitting up straight. I feel like I failed my promise to protect her. I feel like I've lied to her face. I feel weak.
She then went to turn around, facing me, and she replied. "No. Please don't say sorry." Her tone was as if something was blocking her throat. "You have been with me for so many years, Shirou. And I am grateful for all of that." She then turned her back at me again and parted with the words "This is how I want to make you feel that.", before she disappeared from the room and into the kitchen. Her last few words sounded as if she wanted to cry.
I remember what Shinji said before he left us. He said that he was feeling like he was getting older from his isolation day by day, holing himself up in his apartment. I realized that he wanted to be free. I realized that he wanted to help himself and go out there, without inconveniencing anyone.
Now, I knew what he felt during those days. And I want to do the same.