Genesis 1: Remembrance
The cemetery was unusually empty that day. Perhaps there was some special occasion; maybe it was pure coincidence. It was noon, and as the overcast skies drifted by like lazy phantoms, a gentle breeze permeated the spot where a single figure kneeled.
"You were right, father. I couldn't save everyone."
His voice was not quivering in remorse, as one would expect. There was a quiet strength in his words, as if he had come to terms with their reality long ago. Brushing his only streak of white hair from his eyes, the man stood up, extending to his full height. The wind picked up his dark trench coat, toying with it playfully. Sharp slender brows arched downwards, crowning deep eyes that held as much experience as they did amber hues. Traces of his masculinity were outlined in clear view, even in the shroud of the coat. He was slender and yet, there was something ostensibly coarse about his figure. There was something primitive in his appearance – something compelling.
"I saved many, like I promised you. And yet, I still couldn't save her."
His voice remained firm; he refused to tremble in the presence of his father. Nonetheless, he remained somber, his deep voice robbed away by the wind without an echo.
"They've all grown into beautiful young women since my last visit. Rin, Sakura… Fuji-nee is still the same."
He let out a light chuckle – not for his own sake, but for his father's. It was his way of "lightening the mood." His form was statuesque – perhaps no different the myriad gravestones; as he gazed down upon his father's, he bowed his head in respect.
"… and her. She was always beautiful. Do you see her, father?"
He lifted his head, a sudden pain in his eyes – a pain that looked almost liquid, almost materialized in the corner of his gaze. As if to hide his expression from his father, Shirou looked away, bridled by his emotions.
"Do you mean Saber?"
His solitude was shattered. Turning his head, he glared into the trespasser's striking turquoise eyes, as if to silently chastise her. Elegant tresses danced in the wind amongst a gentle river of raven hair; the swaying strands had a peculiar likeness to silk.
"No," he said snidely. "I was talking about Ilya."
Averting his gaze slightly, he looked the young woman over. She wore an ensemble of charcoal and crimson; she always did. She had a distinct knack for fashion. A pair of tight, black jean shorts was all to adorn her legs, and a form-fitting red jacket was held in place by her slender digits over a black t-shirt. There seemed to be a sort of uneasiness in her expression as he gazed upon her.
"Sh-Shirou… why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're cold," he said indifferently. "Go home and wait for me."
"No, that won't do. I came here to pay my respects to Ilyasviel, too."
"Let's go, then."
And so they departed from Kiritsugu's grave. The pair walked across a forlorn path of worn, loosely-arranged bricks; the broken road seemed an unneeded reminder of the passage of time. Littered across the grass were gravestones of varying sizes – some well-placed and ornamented with flowers, some neglected and long-forgotten. There were soldiers in those graves. There were children in those graves. Mothers. Uncles. Sisters. The cemetery was as commonplace as the next, but the walk had a sort of unease to it, as if something was weighing the two down. Perhaps it was the ruinous aftermath of the war.
The walk gave new meaning to the phrase "silent as the grave," and the somberness thickened the air. Carrying a burden unbeknownst to Shirou, Rin occasionally looked up to the man walking alongside her, her face mildly contorted in melancholy.
At last, they had arrived at Ilyasviel's grave, if it could be called that. Built as a miniature hall, Ilyasviel's grave was better described as a shrine of sorts. Easily one of the biggest in the cemetery, it towered over and overshadowed many of the smaller graves. Surrounded with statues of figureheads of von Einzbern royalty, the girl's own statue stood as the centerpiece of the small room. Cherubic and frozen in time, Ilyasviel's monument seemed almost life-like. As she smiled down at him, Shirou could almost hear her lovely giggle.
"I always regret not being able to save you," said Shirou. His voice echoed through the small chamber of stone, and he could hear the faint whistling of wind outside. "You didn't deserve this, Ilya."
If she would say something – anything – he would feel better. Instead, her silence simply crushed him.
"I think about you every day, sis."
As a gesture for Rin to take her turn, Shirou simply turned to face a corner. In response, Rin looked to the opposite corner, plagued by ill emotions. Are you hiding your emotions, or is it that you can't bear to look at me?
"Shirou, I want a moment alone with her."
"I see," Shirou muttered detachedly. "I'll wait outside."
Rin crossed her arms, leaning against a wall of the chamber. She stared at Ilyasviel's figure; when Shirou had left completely, she closed her eyes. It was such a simple thing to say, but she took her time in piecing it together so it'd come out right. She'd only say it once.
"Ilyasviel," she managed with a light smile. "I envy you."