Die when you're killed.
Emiya Shirou died five times during the course of his distorted life.
The first time he died in fire and heat. The tortured screams of the burning , the helpless accompanying him.
He died as he walked through the ruins of destruction.
Died as he walked through the blazes of heat, smoke and fire.
His death finally came when eyes of desperation, hope and joy immeasurable found him.
Finally in the moment of death, his last thoughts.
His last wish, to know the feeling of joy reflected in those eyes.
And he was reborn.
Emiya Shirou's second death came when he stayed behind doing work for a someone he had thought of as a friend.
His reward, was witnessing an impossible fight between two warriors, their skill far beyond the realms of humanity.
Death came at the hands of the blue spearman.
He called out wishing to help, to save.
But in the end it was he who was saved.
His heart was pierced by the cursed red lance without hatred or mercy.
And he was saved by the girl he had thought to rescue.
His heart was healed, as he was given a chance to continue living.
To fulfil his wish.
Allowing him to join That Cursed War.
His third death came on his own hands. Fighting his other self. His older self.
Fighting his one distorted Ideal.
He couldn't lose.
He couldn't fall.
A thousand blades broke in his hands that moment.
No thoughts, no will, no change.
Only denial.
He could not lose against that man.
He could not lose against himself.
He could not lose against his Ideal.
His reflection, broken and changed, but never lost.
In the end he prevailed. And killed himself.
Standing not by the force of his legs.
Standing not by force of will.
Standing only because failing, losing to himself, was not an option.
His fourth death came when a woman who had loved him died.
She had smiled, watching him silently, never revealing her pain.
Devoured by Worms, eaten, raped from the inside, for most every second of her life, She had spoken no word, not even when he had chosen another and left.
Realising her suffering, far to late.
No sword he traced could cut through her pain. Nothing he did could save her.
What hero would have missed the suffering of one closest to him?
What hero would allow her to endure such pain?
What hero was powerless to safe her?
In the end he could do nothing but pierce her heart, unable to give her anything but the mercy of death.
She looked up at him and smiled, her heart pierced by his blade.. And died.
And he died, died as he searched for her tormentor.
Died as he found him.
Died as he cut his parasitic flesh, burning him to the ground until nothing but ashes were left.
Died as he searched for every single worm that man had created in his life.
Died as he destroyed every shred of that worms existence.
He killed not for justice, not for revenge, not even out of disgust.
He killed out of shame.
He killed because he couldn't save the one suffering the most.
And as he killed his humanity died.
His last death came on a nameless battlefield.
Surrounded once again by ashes and heat.
Encircled by the tortured screams of the dying.
Fighting neither side, killing not to protect anyone but only to end this meaningless war.
He died at the hand of a nameless soldier.
Died surrounded by fire and a thousand broken swords.
Died a nameless man.
No songs would speak of him.
No stories would be told.
Leaving nothing but a broken wish.