Chapter 4- The Stars That Never Fade
"When I was a boy, all I wanted was to be a hero."
His left hand clenched into a fist, the movement was weak. His arm was trembling from the effort. Shirou noticed it, but said nothing. He had been that way for a while. His voice sounded weary, as if exhaustion had set into his soul.
Seeing the man he admired in this state drove a dagger into his heart, it was all that he could do to hold back tears. After a moment, he responded with a shaky voice.
"You wanted to? What happened? Did you give up?"
Question after question after question, he wanted to hear Kiritsugu speak more. He wanted to spend more time with him, learn more from him and grow up to be like him.
"I did. Becoming a hero becomes impossible after too long. When you grow up, calling yourself a hero becomes harder and harder."
He had managed to find the strength to lift his head, gazing up at the stars. He sounded sad, his words laced with melancholy and regret. Shirou could not understand everything, but he thought of Kiritsugu as a hero no matter what he said.
"I should have realised that earlier, that I was running out of time."
His words held two meanings. A double entendre that escaped the young Shirou. He looked away from Kiritsugu, his hands rubbing his eyes lightly. Frustration overwhelmed the young boy. Kiritsugu had saved him, yet he could never do anything to save Kiritsugu. He was not a good apprentice, he struggled with the most basic magecraft except for projection. All he had done was burden an ailing Kiritsugu and he could do nothing except watch as the man he admired faded away.
Multiple feelings welled up within the core of the young boy, clashing with one another as he sought a response to give to Kiritsugu. Something began to click within his mind.
"You ran out of time?"
He asked Kiritsugu, trying to keep the conversation going for as long as he could whilst he worked out a way to help ease his pain.
"Indeed."
Kiritsugu responded and took a deep breath. He was entranced by the moon, the celestial body bathed the pair in light as they gazed at the stars. He took a deep breath, his throat rattling as the air forced it's way into his lungs.
"Ah… The moon really is beautiful."
A statement that Kiritsugu would not normally make. A man that had poured his everything into training Shirou and ensuring he could survive in a world of magecraft would not have commented on the moon. The fact that Kiritsugu was even showing this much emotion set off alarm bells in Shirou's head.
A single tear fell from Kiritsugu's left eye as he recalled a woman that had been as pale as the moon, with crimson eyes and a deep comforting smile. The vessel that had been emptied before the war, her personality discarded as a failure and her existence resigned to become something inanimate.
Shirou did not see this tear and even if he had, he could never have known what the tear was mourning. It was the only one that fell, tracing it's way down his wrinkled face before falling into oblivion.
He reached the answer. He had already done his best to study magecraft, because Kiritsugu had said so. Kiritsugu had introduced himself as a magician and Shirou had believed him right away. If Kiritsugu was a mage, then Shirou wanted to become a mage. Kiritsugu had used the term "spellcaster" to describe himself, but he still used magecraft.
The boy that was oh so hollow had found something that he could believe in. If Kiritsugu Emiya could not become a hero because of time, then the boy with a lifetime ahead of him would accomplish it. He would take hold of that ideal, raise it above all else and forge it into his heart.
"Since you couldn't become a hero, I'll do it for you."
His voice wobbled as he made his declaration. It seemed final, as if saying that Kiritsugu would never have the opportunity to be a hero, even if the boy viewed him as one.
"Hm?"
Kiritsugu stopped looking at the moon and turned his head in Shirou's direction. He seemed tired, as if he was fighting off sleep just to remain in the present.
"You ran out of time, so you can't be a hero, but I can. I'll become a hero of justice and save the world, leave it to me."
The boy followed through with his declaration. It felt right, as if it was what he was always meant to do. Shirou Emiya would become a hero, for the man who could not accomplish it himself. The man who he owed everything to, he would uphold that man's ideals and save the world.
Kiritsugu's eyes had stopped seeing moments ago, his life flickered like a weak flame in the wind. His hearing had begun to dull, but he showed no sign of it.
His right arm raised slowly, as if to rest his hand on Shirou's head. A hand that was no longer there. He smiled slightly, as if he was being shown a wonderful sight.
"Ah… I'm relieved. Thank you, Shirou. I can be at peace now."
The words came out like a whisper, each one quieter than the last. Kiritsugu sounded as if he was falling into a deep sleep, but Shirou understood what was happening. Tears filled his eyes, yet he forced himself to remain composed and listen.
Kiritsugu took two more breaths, the last one so shallow that no time passed between inhaling and exhaling. His right arm fell down and he slouched backwards slightly, he was facing the moon again. As the life left his body, a moment from years ago came back to him.
"Kerry, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
That girl had asked that, so many years ago. She had smiled, laughed, cried and smiled again. He had been afraid to answer her, but now he was no longer scared. With a mouth that no longer worked, he formed the words.
"Well, I want to become a hero of justice."
The words remained within the last embers of his mind. At that moment, Kiritsugu Emiya died. Shirou saw it, the way Kiritsugu's head tilted forward. The way his eyes no longer focused. The way he tried to use a hand that he no longer had.
The tears came fast, pouring down over the kimono that he was wearing. He cried for Kiritsugu, for the man who could never become a hero. He cried for his dream, although it would not die with him. And lastly, he cried for himself. This was the last time that Shirou Emiya would be selfish.
The stars reminded her of a moment that was so long ago, that it felt like it might have never happened at all. Before everything had fallen apart.
She had looked at the same stars with her brother, Kay. The moment that came back to her to now did not involve him. Instead, it was a moment she shared with the knight she was closest to.
"My king, it has been a long day's ride. I believe you should rest."
The knight at her side spoke to her. They stood on a hill above a valley. Their army had made camp down below, the flickering of flame could be spotted from where they were. It was noisy, preparations for battle had been discarded in favour of relaxation. The men were singing something, arm in arm as they drank to their king.
"I have no need for rest, Bedivere. How can the king rest when his people are so restless."
She spoke calmly, dismissing Bedivere's concern. She greatly appreciated his company, but his concern was unnecessary. They had been riding for three days, a small army of barbarians had formed in the northeast. Bedivere had been tasked with subjugating them and had called men to war.
The king had decided to accompany him, leaving matters at court to Sir Agravain for the time being. It was not often that she was able to accompany one of the Knights of the Round Table into battle, those chances were few and far between.
Bedivere was often called the weakest knight due to the loss of his left arm, yet he more than made up for it with skill. Although he could not compare to knights such as Lancelot and Gawain, he still stood head and shoulders above the average warrior in Britain. But what made him a Knight of the Round Table was not his strength, it was his heart.
"Bedivere, what do you think of when you see the stars?"
"I think of home, of the times I spent with my family."
He replied in an instant, a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at the cosmos. She watched him for a moment before following his gaze skyward.
"I think of the future. I think of Britain in a hundred years from now. The people prospering, the fields ripe with grain and the winters calmer than they have ever been before."
She spoke wistfully, imagining her paradise. A Britain that stood strong, a place where her people could leave peacefully without threat of invasion. For that to happen, she would have to wage many wars and spill gallons of blood. She had accepted that when she slew Vortigern, her uncle.
With his dying breath, he had claimed that she would lead Britain to ruin. A declaration that had remained with her ever since, eating away at her heart. If Britain were to fall, it would be her fault. The lives of thousands of innocents rested upon her crown. The burden was great, so great that it threatened to swallow her whole.
She had undertaken this burden herself, aware that it would lead to her discarding her humanity. She had never once hesitated, always moving forward. She had drawn the sword, she had lost the sword and she had gained the crown.
A light breeze washed over them, as if the land itself had responded to their thoughts.
"My king, what will you do when Britain is safe?"
Bedivere had worked up the courage to ask such a question. The Britain she dreamed of and the Britain she knew were wildly different. For one to become the other was almost unthinkable.
"I'd like to dream."
A short reply, after a moment of thinking. The stars twinkled and the moon appeared from behind a bank of cloud. To hear something like that from the king was extraordinary. She never spoke of her own desires, everything was for the sake of others.
"What would you like to dream about, my king?"
Bedivere smiled again. Talking to the king he admired was always something he enjoyed, even if it was purely the discussion of warfare and strategy. Moments like these were exceedingly rare. The last time they had spent so much time together had been when they first met, all those years ago.
That thought kept the smile plastered to his face as he awaited her response to his question.
"I don't know, but I'd like it to be a long dream."
An incredibly honest answer, one that truly came from her heart. A king that dreamed only of saving her people had no dream of her own. That would be something that would come later. Her dreams had always been filled with training or lessons, such that sleep was not as beneficial as it should be.
"I'm sure you'll be able to dream long, my king."
Bedivere took a seat on the grass, looking down into the valley below. He would normally feel nervous at this point, the night before a battle was always the worst. Even if his army had more men, more weapons and better training, he still worried. But now that his king was here, he felt at ease.
"Thank you, Bedivere."
She responded to him, joining him as he sat on the grass. The two continued to stare at the stars as a serene silence swept through the entire valley. Even the camp fell silent as king and knight sojourned under the moonlight for a moment.