The lance had lodged its head into his chest, snapping bone and spilling blood from his insides, tearing his flesh. It had gone right through his heart, taking out a nice triangular chunk from his body and yet... somehow... he'd revived, only to see the man clad in tight blues come at him again.

Unlike last time, he'd tried to fight, to hold his own against the being. Not that it did much good. The man in tights wasn't only at an advantage in strength, but was far faster in speed too. So fast was he, all his movements looked more like a blur to the youth than anything he could perceive. Shirou just couldn't keep up. Each blow, each fake out, despite all his years of training in kendo, were nothing to this being who snickered as he looked down on him, making him angrier. But rather than do any good, all his anger did was land him a boot to his ribs, aggravating his previous injury and sending him through the glass door of his sleeping quarters.

No. Fighting is not an option, he thinks, as he hits the hard floor, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He has to run, even if the man is faster, he has to try. He isn't going to die here, without being able to help anyone in return after the promise he'd made everyone, including his father.

He can still see the old man's face as he'd promised foolishly that he'd become the hero the man was unable to become in his own life. The genuine smile that had come upon his features, and the light flush that had flared on his cheeks as he'd rubbed Shirou's head had ground the promise into Shirou's core. He needs to keep that promise, but with this blue man in the way, how can he do that?

He can only imagine how his father would look at him, staring down at him sadly, thinking on how Shirou had managed to find himself at the end of some stranger's spear and die before doing anything of worth in his life.

How pathetic.

No!

He can't die this way! He won't! He'll get away and make it out to another day until he can fulfill that promise he's made. He has to!

Unfortunately, the man in blue doesn't seem to share his sentiments, giving his spine a grinding kick from behind that hurts so badly he barely notices when his body gets thrown through the shed, face slamming into the dirt as his body rolls with the impact.

His breathing has become so hard, a hundred places in his body screaming in agony, that he can barely lift his head, and still, that man comes in, holding that long heavy spear at his shoulder as if it were no more than a paperweight, smiling at him in what he is sure is an ice melting smile.

"Sorry, kid," the man says. "It's nothing personal. The master just said we can't have any witnesses around, and that means you," he says, twirling the spear from his shoulder and pointing the deadly edged blade at the end at Shirou's face. An end he has become far too intimate with in just an hour past. He swallows, staring at the menacing obect with wide eyes as he tries to back away on his hands, keeping an eye on the thing that might as well be a viper swaying before him, waiting to strike.

"Your bad luck it seems," says the man in blue. "If it's any consolation, based on what you did back there, you might've been the seventh master. So this would have happened anyways."

This bastard, he thinks, what does he know!? He'll become a hero of justice, even if it kills him!

That's when his palm hits the floor behind him, his body flaring up as the magic circuits inside him burn rapidly, an energy sparking within a storm, exploding mere inches from his face, a shadow coalacing and taking shape, lunging at the man with a thunderous blow before following it with a second swing that smashes the man through the side of the shed, away from Shirou.

He'd think it a godsend, if not for the aura that comes off the new being in waves. A thick choking wave of hatred and despair, threatening to drown him as it engulfs his presence. Even without its face turned towards him, he is shivering uncontrollably, teeth clattering in his mouth. This seems to draw the figure's attention, they turning slowly towards his direction. It is a being masked in a dark visor with a red slit, pale purple lips set in a frown as a gigantic blade with red sigils drags across the floor, the clanking of the warrior's armor making his heart thunder inside his chest as they take one ominous step towards him after another.

Everything inside him is screaming, this person is dangerous! Run! But his limbs are stiff, though they shake uncontrollably, his face paling several shades as the figure comes before the moon, blocking its light, a dark mist swirling around her, making the red of her visor seem to glow all the more, marking him with its dark intent.

"Her!" his mind screams, trying to latch onto something to save his sanity and give his muscles reason to move. It's a woman so he can run and escape! Certainly she is no more dangerous than a schoolgirl? That's what he tries to tell his mind, but staring at the woman in that dark armor, that sword held so tightly in her right hand that he can hear her hand squeezing, all he can do is stare and pray to the gods above for a quick end, for this woman is death incarnate.

"You!" she says, pointing the end of her blade at his throat, lifting it slightly to lift his chin to face her. "Are you the one who summoned me?"

"I... I..." he stutters, unsure of what to say with that blade before him. There is rustling behind the being and she turns away.

"Stay," she commands and Shirou can do no more than nod.

The woman suddenly leaps forward, boots seeming to fly into the air as she shoots towards the doorway, her blade coming down on screeching metal, the earth booming with the ferocity of the attack. Shirou daren't move to look at what happens, as blow upon blow rains down outside. His knees shiver, as the earth seems to tremble and he wonders if he should make his way out, when he hears the unmistakable cry of the blue man's voice, sounding shrill as if in surprise. There is the sickening crunch of flesh and bone before something falls to the floor with a thud.

. , his mind continues to whisper in his head, mumbling repeatedly as the dark figure walks towards him, her presence once more darkening the sliver of light as she makes her way inside, her blade stained crimson, dripping wet blood onto the floor.

As she makes her way towards him, he finds his voice once more.

"St-stay..."

Her blade finds its way to his throat, pushing against his neck, cutting off sound from his body.

"So," she says in an almost bored voice. "This is what the fates have deemed worthy to be my master. How pitiful."

The blade is pulled back from his neck, but he hardly breathes or dares move, the figure of impending doom just before him keeping him at bay.

"I am servant Saber," she says in an almost robotic voice. "From now until this war comes to its conclusion, my blade serves you."

Shirou swallows, feeling his bladder release, unable to move, staring up at the woman who stares back unflinching at him. His servant... Saber.