Disclaimer: Don't own either Rwby or Type Moon. So enjoy or don't
Chapter 36: Shelter from the Storm
The golden glow of Jinn's presence dimmed, fading into the lamp she called home, leaving the group in stunned silence. The vast expanse of the mystical blue sky where they had witnessed Shirou's past dissolved around them, and they found themselves back in the cold, snow-covered landscape of Remnant. But the weight of what they had seen—Shirou's memories, his struggles, and the impossible choices he had made—clung to them, as if the vision had followed them into reality.
Ruby was the first to react. Her usually bright, energetic face was drawn and pale, her silver eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She clutched Crescent Rose tightly, as if the weight of what she had witnessed threatened to pull her under. Yang stood beside her, fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight. She looked like she wanted to say something, to ask the questions burning in her mind, but the words stuck in her throat.
Weiss' expression was unreadable, her icy blue eyes fixated on Shirou as if trying to piece together the fragments of his story. Blake, however, didn't hesitate. She had seen enough of the world's cruelty to recognize the look in Shirou's eyes — the haunted, distant gaze of someone who had endured too much. She approached him slowly, her heart aching as she replayed the vision in her mind: the brutal battles, the desperate sacrifices, and the quiet moments of unbearable loss.
"Shirou," Blake's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm. The others watched, unsure of how to react, still processing what they had just experienced.
Shirou stood rigid, his shoulders tense. He had been prepared for this — prepared for the moment his past would be revealed, even if not by choice. But that didn't make it any easier. The weight of their stares bore down on him, and the silence stretched uncomfortably long.
"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Blake said, her voice laced with empathy. The look in her amber eyes was one of deep understanding, not pity. She knew what it was like to carry a burden too heavy for one person to bear.
Shirou finally turned to face her, his face a mask of composure, though the cracks were visible if one looked closely enough. "Thanks, Blake," he said, his voice hoarse, as if the words themselves were difficult to speak. "But... I need some space." His tone was gentle, but there was a firmness to it, a quiet plea to be left alone with his thoughts.
Blake hesitated, her hand lingering on his arm for just a moment longer before she nodded and stepped back. "I understand," she said softly. "Whenever you're ready, we'll be here."
Ruby, still looking shaken, took a step forward, but Qrow gently placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "Give him a minute," he murmured, his gaze flicking between Ruby and Shirou. There was something knowing in Qrow's eyes, something that suggested he recognized the kind of wounds Shirou was carrying.
Blake rejoined the group, her heart heavy. She glanced back at Shirou, watching as he stared into the distance, his expression unreadable but his eyes clouded with old, unresolved pain. Her chest tightened. She wanted to comfort him, to ease some of the burden she could see weighing him down, but she knew he needed time — just as she had once needed time to come to terms with her own past.
The others shifted uneasily, the aftermath of the vision lingering in the air. It wasn't just Shirou's pain they had seen — it was his entire world. A world of conflict and strife, of impossible choices and sacrifices. It was overwhelming.
"Did… did that really happen?" Ruby's voice was small, almost childlike, as if she couldn't quite grasp the full scope of what they had witnessed.
Qrow, standing slightly apart from the group, crossed his arms and sighed heavily. His sharp, red eyes flicked to Shirou with a knowing look. "Some things… you can't leave behind, no matter how far you run," he said, his tone weary. "You've got a lot of ghosts, kid."
Yang let out a slow breath, her mechanical hand flexing reflexively. "He's been through hell," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. "And somehow… he's still standing."
Weiss crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "It's not just what he's been through," she said, her voice measured. "It's what he's done. The choices he's made… they're not ones any normal person could make."
Blake listened in silence, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotion. She had seen the weight Shirou carried with him, the constant struggle to balance his ideals with the harsh realities of his world. It wasn't unlike her own journey — fighting for what she believed in, even when it meant standing alone, even when it meant making choices that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
The vision had been a painful reminder of the cruelty of the world, but it had also been a testament to Shirou's strength. And as much as it hurt to witness his suffering, Blake couldn't help but feel a deep admiration for him — for his unwavering resolve, even in the face of overwhelming despair.
The wind picked up, carrying with it a bitter chill. Shirou, sensing the incoming blizzard, straightened his back and took a deep breath. It wasn't time for them to dwell on his past, not now. He pushed the emotions back down, as he had done countless times before, and focused on the present.
"We need to keep moving," Shirou said, his voice regaining its usual calm authority. He turned towards the distant horizon, where the dark clouds were closing in fast. "There's a storm coming. We need to find shelter before it hits."
Maria nodded, adjusting her goggles. "He's right. This storm's going to be a bad one. We'd better get going before we're caught out in the open."
The others, though still reeling from what they had seen, followed Shirou's lead. There were still so many questions left unanswered, so many feelings left unresolved, but there would be time for that later.
As the group moved forward, Blake glanced back at Shirou, watching him take the lead once more. Her heart ached for him, for the burdens he carried in silence. But as she followed in his footsteps, she knew that no matter what happened, she wouldn't let him bear it alone anymore. Not after what they had seen.
The snowfall around them grew heavier as they trudged through the frozen wilderness, the cold biting at their faces and seeping into their bones. The vision had long faded, but its emotional echo lingered in each of their minds. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, struggling to make sense of what they had just witnessed. The group, though close-knit, seemed disconnected in this moment, their usual banter replaced by a quiet tension as they grappled with the gravity of Shirou's past.
Ruby kept her eyes down, her footsteps slow and measured as she processed the horrifying scenes of war and loss. It was hard to reconcile the smiling, optimistic Shirou with the hardened warrior she had seen in the vision—someone who had fought in a world where hope seemed like a distant memory. Her chest felt tight, her heart heavy with the weight of Shirou's sacrifices. How could someone live through that and still be so kind?
Yang walked beside her, pushing her bike along the snowy path. She was quiet, too, though the tension in her posture gave away the inner storm raging within. The memory of Shirou's brutal battles, the impossible choices he had been forced to make, flashed through her mind. She had seen his unwavering resolve to save others, even if it meant sacrificing himself time and again. It was the same kind of determination that burned within her—but for Shirou, it had come at a terrible cost. The wounds weren't just physical; they were emotional, and they ran deep.
She glanced at Blake, who was walking a few steps ahead, her expression thoughtful yet troubled. Yang had noticed the way Blake had immediately offered comfort to Shirou after the vision ended. The two of them had always seemed close, but there was something different in the way Blake had looked at him—something more than just concern.
"Hey," Yang called softly, moving to walk alongside Blake. Her voice was quieter than usual, tinged with uncertainty. "That was… intense. I still can't wrap my head around it."
Blake nodded without looking at her, her amber eyes focused on the path ahead. "Yeah," she murmured. "It's… a lot to take in." She didn't elaborate, but Yang could tell by her tone that the vision had shaken her, too.
Yang exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air. "Shirou's been through hell. I don't know how anyone could survive all of that." She paused, searching for the right words. "You've spent more time with him than the rest of us. Did you know any of this?"
Blake hesitated for a moment, her ears twitching beneath her bow. She had known Shirou carried a heavy burden, that there were things in his past he wasn't ready to talk about. But nothing could have prepared her for the depth of the suffering he had endured. "Not really," she admitted quietly. "I knew he'd been through a lot… but not like this." Her brow furrowed as she recalled the haunting scenes of battle and loss. "It's no wonder he doesn't talk about it."
Yang was quiet for a moment, her hands tightening on the handlebars of her bike. "Yeah… I get it. It's not the kind of thing you can just casually bring up. But still… seeing it like that…" She trailed off, her voice heavy with emotion. "I just don't know how he keeps going."
Blake glanced over at Yang, noticing the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. This was hard for all of them. "He's strong," Blake said softly. "Stronger than any of us probably realize. But even strength has its limits."
Yang's gaze shifted to Shirou, who was at the front of the group, leading them through the snow. He looked calm and focused, but there was something different about him now. Knowing what they knew, it was hard not to see the weight he carried with every step.
"You care about him, don't you?" Yang asked suddenly, her voice quiet but probing.
Blake's breath hitched slightly at the question. She wasn't sure how to answer. She cared about Shirou—there was no doubt about that. He had become someone she could trust, someone she could rely on. But there was more to it than just friendship. She had seen his pain, his loneliness, and in many ways, she understood it better than anyone else. The more time she spent with him, the more she felt drawn to him. And now, after seeing everything he had gone through… it was hard to deny the growing feelings stirring inside her.
"I do," Blake finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's… complicated."
Yang raised an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing her face. "Complicated, huh?" She let out a soft chuckle, though it lacked her usual fire. "I get that. But hey, you're not alone in this. We're all here for him—and for you."
Blake gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Yang."
Yang's expression softened, and she let the subject drop. It wasn't the right time to press further, and she could see that Blake was still sorting through her own feelings. They walked in silence for a while longer, the tension between them easing slightly.
Further back, Weiss had remained mostly quiet, but her mind was racing. The revelation of Shirou's abilities, his world, and his magecraft had left her with more questions than answers. The vision had shown her the horrors of his life, yes, but it had also revealed something else: Shirou was no ordinary person. The swords, the magic, the power he wielded—none of it fit into the world she knew. She had always sensed that Shirou was different, that he wasn't from Remnant, but now she had confirmation.
As they walked, Weiss found herself gravitating towards Qrow, who seemed just as pensive as the rest of them. "You've seen a lot of things," she said, breaking the silence. "Have you ever seen anything like what Shirou showed us?"
Qrow shook his head slowly, his expression grim. "No, can't say I have. His world… it's different. And what he can do, it's way beyond anything we've got here."
Weiss frowned, her curiosity piqued. "He said something about magic. Magecraft, he called it. It's not the same as Dust or Semblances, is it?"
Qrow gave a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Nope. Whatever that was, it's on a whole different level. We've seen our fair share of strange things, but this? This is something else entirely."
Weiss fell silent again, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to understand Shirou's world, to learn more about the magecraft he had mentioned. But she also knew that now wasn't the time to press him for answers. He had already revealed more than enough for one day, and they all needed time to process what they had seen.
As the group continued forward, the tension in the air slowly began to dissipate, though the weight of the vision still lingered in the back of their minds. There were so many questions left unanswered, so many emotions left unspoken. But for now, they had no choice but to keep moving forward, just as Shirou had taught them.
Blake walked beside Yang, her thoughts torn between Shirou's pain and her own feelings for him. She glanced at Shirou's back, watching the way he moved with quiet determination, leading them through the snowstorm without hesitation. There was strength in him—strength born from years of hardship. But there was also a deep sadness, one that Blake could no longer ignore.
The wind howled through the trees, growing fiercer by the minute as the approaching blizzard began to tighten its grip on the landscape. Snow whipped around them, stinging their faces and obscuring their vision, making each step through the thickening drifts more difficult. Shirou, at the front of the group, narrowed his eyes against the harsh wind, his senses heightened, searching for any sign of shelter.
"Keep close!" Shirou shouted over the storm, his voice firm and commanding. His breath came out in short, visible bursts as he forged ahead, pushing through the deep snow. His mind was focused on one thing: finding a place to protect the group before the storm fully hit.
Blake, Ruby, Weiss, Yang, and the others followed behind him, each struggling to stay warm against the rapidly dropping temperature. The visibility was poor, with the swirling snow creating a wall of white around them. Ruby squinted, trying to make out shapes in the distance, but all she could see were faint outlines of trees and hills disappearing into the storm.
"We won't last long out here if this gets any worse," Qrow muttered, his hands shoved deep into his coat. His eyes scanned their surroundings, searching for any sign of refuge.
"I know," Shirou replied, his voice tense. He could feel the weight of the group's safety pressing down on him. Every second they remained exposed to the elements increased the risk. The storm wasn't just inconvenient—it was dangerous. If they didn't find shelter soon, they could easily be buried in snow or worse.
Maria, her old goggles shielding her from the worst of the storm, leaned in closer to Qrow. "Any ideas where we might find cover? This place is looking pretty desolate."
"Maybe if we head toward the treeline, we'll find something," Qrow responded, pointing toward a faint outline of trees further ahead. "It's our best bet for now."
Shirou nodded but didn't slow down. His mana-infused senses were on high alert, picking up every sound through the storm. His sharp hearing was the only thing that might guide them. He focused, listening beyond the howling wind, searching for anything—a creak, a shift in the air, something that might signal a nearby structure.
Then, amidst the storm's howls, Shirou's ears picked up a faint creaking noise—something wooden, not far from where they were. His heart leaped in recognition. A building? It had to be.
"There's something up ahead!" Shirou called out, turning to the group. "I hear a structure—could be a house or a barn."
Blake's ears twitched at his words, and she strained to listen. "I hear it too," she confirmed, her voice carried by the wind.
Without wasting time, Shirou pushed forward, his pace quickening. The others followed, their footsteps crunching through the deepening snow. As they advanced, the blurry outline of a large building began to materialize through the storm, looming darkly against the white backdrop.
The Brunswick Homestead stood before them, battered and decrepit, its once-sturdy walls now sagging under the weight of time and neglect. The wind rattled the old wooden planks, making the entire structure groan in protest. The windows were broken, and the roof was missing tiles in places, but it was still standing. It was the only shelter for miles around—and it would have to do.
"We've found it!" Ruby called out, relief evident in her voice as she saw the building appear through the snow. "Thank goodness!"
Yang let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "About time. I thought we were going to freeze out here."
Shirou slowed as they neared the homestead, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The place was old and abandoned, but that didn't mean it was entirely safe. His instincts told him to be cautious. He took a few steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the broken windows. It seemed quiet—no movement, no tracks in the snow around it.
"We'll need to check the inside first," Shirou said, his tone serious. "It might not be stable, and I don't want any surprises."
Qrow nodded in agreement, moving to the front with Shirou. "I'll help check it out. Last thing we need is the roof caving in on us."
Together, Shirou and Qrow approached the entrance, which hung loosely on its rusted hinges. Shirou pushed the door open carefully, the wood creaking ominously as it swung inward, revealing a dark, dusty interior. The air was musty, thick with the scent of rot and decay, but the building appeared to be structurally sound.
"It's not pretty," Qrow muttered, stepping inside and glancing around, "but it'll hold."
Shirou nodded, relieved. "It'll do for the night." He turned back to the group, who were huddled against the cold. "Come on. It's not much, but it's better than being out in the storm."
The others quickly followed, filing into the homestead one by one. The interior was just as dilapidated as the outside—broken furniture, cracked walls, and scattered debris littered the floor. But it was dry, and the walls, despite their weathered appearance, would provide enough protection from the worst of the blizzard.
Weiss, brushing the snow from her coat, surveyed the room with a grim expression. "It's not exactly a Schnee manor, but I suppose it'll do."
Yang chuckled, her breath fogging in the cold air. "Yeah, I don't think we'll be hosting any parties here."
Blake remained silent as she moved towards one of the windows, her eyes scanning the swirling storm outside. The snow was already piling up against the walls, and the wind howled relentlessly. They had made it just in time.
"We should set up camp here for the night," Shirou said, walking further into the homestead and examining the walls. "The storm's only going to get worse, and this place is our best chance of staying warm."
Ruby nodded in agreement, already pulling out a blanket from her pack. "Good idea. We'll need to huddle up to keep warm, too."
As the group began settling into the homestead, Shirou moved to the center of the room and knelt down. Tracing a small knife, he cut a shallow line into his palm, letting a few drops of blood fall to the floor. The others watched curiously as he began to trace a circle with his blood, his movements precise and deliberate.
Weiss raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to get a better look. "What are you doing?"
Shirou glanced up at her briefly before continuing his work. "Setting up a bounded field. It's a basic protection spell—an alarm, essentially. If anything crosses the boundary while we're inside, I'll know."
Weiss watched him intently, her interest piqued. "So this is part of your magecraft?"
Shirou nodded. "It's not much, but it should give us some warning if anything approaches during the night."
Once the circle was complete, Shirou pressed his hand to the ground, activating the bounded field with a faint pulse of energy. A soft, barely visible shimmer spread across the room, creating an invisible barrier around them.
"There. That should keep us safe," Shirou said, standing up and wiping the blood from his hand. He noticed the way Weiss was still watching him, her eyes full of curiosity.
"If you have questions, you can ask," he offered, his tone gentle but tired. "I'll answer what I can."
Weiss hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I do have questions. About your world, your magic… everything."
"You're not the only one," Ruby added, her eyes wide with wonder. "What you showed us was incredible. I didn't even know that kind of magic existed."
Yang crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah, you've been holding out on us, Shirou. We deserve some answers."
Shirou sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had expected this. The vision had revealed more than he ever intended to share, but he knew they deserved to know the truth. "I'll explain," he said softly. "But let's settle in first. It's going to be a long night."
The blizzard howled outside, the wind battering the walls of the Brunswick Homestead with relentless fury. Snow piled against the windows, sealing the group inside as they huddled around the dim glow of their fire. The warmth of the flames fought against the biting cold that still lingered in the air, offering a fragile comfort against the harsh reality of the storm.
After answering the group's initial questions, Shirou sat quietly by the fire, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. But he could feel the weight of their curiosity still hanging in the air. The others had asked about his world and the battles he had fought, but he knew they still didn't fully understand what it meant to be a magus—what his magic truly entailed.
Weiss, sitting cross-legged with her back straight, watched him intently. The Schnee heiress had an inquisitive look in her eyes, as if piecing together every bit of information he had shared. Ruby was leaning forward slightly, her silver eyes gleaming with interest, while Yang, sitting against her bike, gave Shirou a sidelong glance, waiting for more answers.
Blake, sitting quietly near him, had her arms wrapped around her knees, her amber eyes focused on Shirou. She hadn't said much since their initial conversation, but her presence felt steady and grounding.
"We've learned a lot about you already," Weiss began, breaking the silence, "but you've only touched on what you can actually do. What is magecraft really like in your world? What makes it so different from Aura or Dust?"
Shirou shifted slightly, considering how to explain something so ingrained in his life. He had been raised in the world of magecraft, yet it was always something hidden, something dangerous.
"Magecraft," he began, his voice low but clear, "is an ancient practice in my world. Unlike Aura, which seems to be a natural extension of a person's life force, magecraft relies on manipulating the world's laws through a system of rituals and formulas. It's… more academic, in a way. It's not something that can be awakened like a Semblance or enhanced through training. It's passed down through bloodlines—families that have developed their own secrets, techniques, and even their own set of magical circuits."
"So, it's hereditary?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like a family thing?"
"In most cases, yes," Shirou nodded. "The power a magus possesses is determined by their magical circuits, which are like channels in the body that allow you to convert your life force into prana—what you'd call magic energy. But it's not something everyone has. In fact, most people in my world don't even know magecraft exists. It's hidden from ordinary society."
"That sounds similar to the way Dust is passed down in my family," Weiss remarked, crossing her arms. "We have exclusive techniques that only the Schnee family can use, though they aren't based on bloodlines. But your circuits… they're inside your body, like your Aura?"
"Yes. They're a part of me. But unlike Aura, which seems to protect and sustain life, magic circuits take a toll. Every time I use magecraft, I'm forcing my body to convert prana, and if I push too hard, the circuits can burn out. It's a delicate balance."
Ruby leaned in closer, her eyes wide with fascination. "So, how do you actually use your magecraft? I mean, we've seen you trace weapons, but that's got to be more complicated than just creating stuff out of thin air, right?"
Shirou smiled faintly, appreciating Ruby's enthusiasm. "It's not that simple, no. The type of magic I specialize in is called projection—specifically, I recreate objects by tracing their structure and history. It's not just a matter of visualizing a weapon and forming it. I have to analyze every detail, every component that makes the weapon what it is. When I trace a sword, for example, I don't just create the shape of the blade. I recreate the metal it's made from, the way it was forged, even the memories tied to that weapon's existence."
Weiss's eyes narrowed slightly, her analytical mind latching onto the technical aspects. "So, it's not just copying something—you're perfectly replicating it down to the smallest detail. But what's the limit? Can you project anything you've seen?"
"In theory, yes," Shirou replied. "But in practice, it depends on how much I know about the object. The more I understand about its history, its purpose, the easier it is to trace. It's not just about seeing something once and duplicating it—there's a deeper connection involved. I have to internalize its essence."
Yang's brow furrowed as she processed the idea. "That sounds… exhausting. Like it would take a lot out of you just to make one weapon."
"It does," Shirou admitted. "Projection is costly in terms of prana, and the more complex the object, the more energy it requires. That's why I tend to stick with weapons I'm familiar with. Kanshou and Bakuya, for example—those twin swords you've seen me use. I've traced them so many times that it's almost second nature now. But if I tried to project something unfamiliar, something I've never analyzed, it would take a lot more effort."
Blake, who had been listening quietly, spoke up, her voice soft but curious. "Does that mean you can't create anything original? Are you only able to project things that already exist?"
Shirou shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "In a way, yes. Projection magecraft is all about reproduction—it's not about innovation or creating something entirely new. I can't invent a weapon from scratch. But I can modify what I project, make slight changes if needed. It's just… not the same as creation. My magic isn't about forging new paths. It's about preserving what's already been."
Ruby tilted her head, still pondering the intricacies of it all. "So you can recreate things with exact accuracy. That sounds like it would come in handy, especially in a fight."
"It does," Shirou agreed. "But it has its limitations. I can project any weapon I've traced, but I can't change its nature. A sword is still a sword—it's not going to turn into something else just because I want it to. And while I can trace powerful weapons, they'll only be as strong as my understanding of them. If I don't fully grasp their significance, I can't unlock their full potential."
Weiss nodded, her expression pensive. "And the toll it takes on your body—can that be mitigated? Or is it always a risk?"
"There are ways to minimize the strain," Shirou explained. "Experienced magi can reinforce their bodies, use specialized techniques to enhance their circuits, but there's always a cost. Every time I project something, I'm essentially burning through my own life force. It's not something that can be sustained indefinitely. That's why I don't rely on projection alone. I've trained in swordsmanship and combat to balance it out."
The group fell silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of Shirou's words. The idea that every spell, every projection, was not just a display of power but a sacrifice was sobering. His magecraft wasn't just a tool—it was something that required deep understanding, discipline, and a willingness to endure the physical toll.
Ruby finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but filled with admiration. "It must be hard, doing what you do. But… it's also amazing. The way you can recreate those weapons, the history behind them—it's like you're keeping a part of them alive."
Shirou smiled faintly at her words. "That's one way to look at it. My magic may not be as grand as others, but it's my way of protecting the things that matter. I recreate what's been lost and try to use it for something good."
Yang uncrossed her arms, her expression softening. "Sounds like you've been carrying a lot of that weight for a long time. But now, you've got us. You don't have to do it alone."
Blake nodded in agreement, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're with you, Shirou. All the way."
Shirou glanced around the group, feeling a quiet sense of warmth and connection. He wasn't used to sharing so much of himself, but seeing the understanding in their eyes—the acceptance—eased some of the burden he had been carrying for so long.
As the night wore on, the fire burned lower, casting a dim glow across the room. The exhaustion of the day—both physical and emotional—began to take its toll on the group. One by one, they prepared for rest, pulling out blankets and lying down near the warmth of the fire. Weiss and Ruby huddled together, Yang settled against her bike, and Maria wrapped herself in a thick cloak, her old eyes already drooping with fatigue.
Blake watched as everyone slowly drifted off to sleep, but her gaze lingered on Shirou, who remained where he was, still sharpening his sword, his eyes focused intently on the blade. He wasn't preparing for battle—there was no immediate danger—but it was clear that he wasn't ready to rest. Not yet.
She hesitated for a moment, then quietly got up and walked over to him, her footsteps soft against the creaking wooden floor. "Shirou," she said gently, sitting down beside him. "You should rest. We've all been through a lot today."
Shirou glanced up at her, his expression tired but composed. "I will. I just… need to clear my head first."
Blake frowned, sensing the weight of his thoughts. "You don't have to carry it all by yourself, you know. We're all here for you."
Shirou gave her a faint, almost apologetic smile. "I know. I appreciate it, really. It's just… some things are hard to let go of."
Blake nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. There were things she still struggled to let go of, too. She sat quietly for a moment, letting the silence settle between them, then spoke again, her voice soft. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Shirou hesitated, his gaze dropping to the sword in his hands. For a long moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to answer. But then, with a deep sigh, he set the blade aside and leaned back against the wall. "It's hard to explain. There are so many things I wish I could change… so many people I couldn't save."
Blake listened attentively, her amber eyes full of quiet compassion. "Like Sakura?"
Shirou winced at the mention of her name, the pain still fresh in his heart. "Yeah," he said softly. "She was… everything to me. And I couldn't protect her in the end. I made so many mistakes, and she paid the price for them."
Blake's heart ached for him. She had seen that kind of pain before—the pain of loss, the guilt that came with it. "It wasn't your fault, Shirou," she said gently. "You did everything you could."
Shirou shook his head, his voice low and filled with regret. "It doesn't feel like enough."
Blake didn't respond right away. Instead, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm in a gesture of quiet support. She didn't have the answers he needed, but she could offer him her understanding, her presence.
"You're not alone," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not anymore."
Shirou looked at her, his eyes searching hers, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of something other than pain—a sense of warmth, of connection. He had been alone for so long, carrying the burden of his past on his own. But here, in this moment, with Blake beside him, he realized that maybe he didn't have to carry it all by himself anymore.
Blake leaned her head on his shoulder, the warmth of her presence grounding him, offering a quiet comfort that words couldn't convey. As the storm continued to rage outside, Shirou allowed himself a moment of peace, his thoughts finally beginning to settle. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around Blake, holding her close.
And as the fire flickered softly in the hearth, the two of them sat in silence, finding solace in each other's company, while the rest of the world drifted away into the quiet of the night.