towerofanimus | Precious and few are the moments

Entry tags:

Precious and few are the moments

Characters: Archer (

swordedpast), Avenger as Shirou (

destructiveprinciple/

heroicprinciple), and Saber of White (

no_longer_a_king)
Setting: Outside room 3-16, the morning of April 20th.
Format: Prose for now.
Summary: In the aftermath of the event, Archer seeks relief from his guilt and rage in the only way he knows how.
Warnings: Violence, self-loathing, and death.

The message left for Shirou is like a gauntlet thrown down. Which is suitable enough, since Archer was wearing gauntlets himself pretty recently.

Meet me outside my room. 3-16. As soon as morning breaks.

Whatever morning may be in this tower, Archer knows well enough Shirou's habits of waking up early to greet it. After all, they're the same as his once were. Now, he rarely sleeps anymore, so it doesn't matter for him. In fact, he's spent this past night, since being returned with his mind intact (such as it ever is), brooding on all the least convenient floors.

That's over with now, though. He's prepared to make amends for what he's done. Not that he really can, but this is the next best thing.

He'll cut Shirou down, and then Arturia will arrive, the Saber in white, and cut him down. Maybe he'll keep repeating the process afterwards--that would be nice. Anything to eliminate all traces of Shirou Emiya from this tower and all of existence.

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In the back of his mind, Shirou knew this—responding to Archer's demands—was a bad idea. A downright terrible idea to be honest, considering the events that had just taken place.

But when he groggily wakes up and reads the message left for him, Shirou accepts the challenge in a few minutes, without any further deliberation. He doesn't even check the network like he usually would. The teenager mentally checks how much energy he has left and nods to himself. Maybe this challenge would be a repetition of that ridiculous fight from before, or they could talk civilly like normal people. Yet...

He had his own grievances to settle with the Counter Guardian.

Rin might not behaved like she cared that she had sacrificed herself for him to slow down the malfunctioning Servant's rampage, but he wasn't content at all with the result of her dying in the first place. Yes, it wasn't Archer's fault since he had been out of control. Yes, death was as meaningless here as it had been in his world. No, that didn't make it any better.

He makes note of where Archer's room is, and heads out.

Had he known what Shirou was thinking, Archer could have told him it was a mistake to think that the two of them could ever speak civilly.

They will always be enemies.

But despite his claims, he no longer knows what the boy with orange hair is thinking. Bitterness and regret, now with additional rage, cloud his mind and judgment far too much. That's clear from the moment he fades into view outside his room as Shirou (or at least this person doing a remarkably good impression of him) appears. He's not holding any weapons just yet, but the hostility is evident all around him.

"Jeez, you really are stupid. You came after all."

"You're the guy who said to come here, so I guess you're going to have to deal with that as a result, aren't you?"

And he comes to a stop a short distance away from the door of the Servant's room when Archer materializes into view, hostility clearly heavy in the air around him and he returns that hostility with defiance. He's angry too, angry at himself for what he perceives to be another failure, another missed chance to save someone. People were suffering here and Shirou felt the absurd pressure of being helpless to stop it, to fix it like it should be.

It was a matter of course for Emiya Shirou to rescue the people in need. But he didn't have the first clue of how to go about repairing something of this magnitude.

Stupidly of him perhaps, Shirou is not moved to caution by the obvious anger and bitterness from coming from the white-haired man. His stance is confident with shoulders held straight, elbows bent slightly.

"Yeah, I am. It's unfortunate. This tower isn't big enough for the both of us."

Archer says that. He says that sincerely, without any apparent irony. A second later, he pauses and utters a short, nasty laugh. "Hah, did I really say something like that? Your stupidity is infectious. Well, it's true, though." He gives a little shrug, and when his shoulders settle into a straight line again, there are familiar swords in his hands. "This tower can get bigger every day. They can add a million floors to it. They can raise it up to outer space and after all that, it won't have enough room to hold all of our sins and failures."

He lifts one sword to point it at Shirou. "I sought an answer from you once. Did you know that? I might not have admitted it at the time, but I did. The world ended before you could give it to me, so I got a different answer. I'm not looking for anything like an answer from you now. It's far simpler than that. There's just not enough space in all that's left of the worlds to hold our mistakes anymore."

Archer raises the other sword as well. "So let's erase our existence, Shirou Emiya. Let's do it right now."

"Hah, then we are of the same mind. A bothersome person like you, I wouldn't object to being rid of for awhile."

For a moment, Shirou stops. He pauses and considers the two variations of what he recalls of Archer—the image of his red back in front of Berserker in the old castle, a cocky you won't mind if I beat that thing, right?—and the sight of him swinging down a sword wet with his blood, drown in your ideals and die so hatefully, as to expose the true nature of his sins. If there had been an answer sought in those actions and times, the teenager did not know it.

Then he shakes his head, dismissing the painful contradictions as pointless, and two of the same swords drop into his empty hands. "And I thought you believed sins to be a meaningless concept. But you bring up a good point. Geez, it really was my mistake to think either one of us could tolerate the other for any length of time."

Talking's useless. There is no chance of victory in this scenario. A certain loss awaited him.

Archer is not vocally condemning his ideals or his distorted desire for heroism. He's simply saying their entire existence was a mistake to be corrected at this very instant, preferably with their deaths. So, how can he reject that? If the Servant denied their ideals, then he could force himself to preserve, ignore all barriers both mental and physical, and make him eat his words. If he had stated it was wrong to want to save everyone, Shirou could have opposed him to the end. Yet if he only saying that, Shirou was left to fight on only his stubbornness.

He brought the weapons up, raising them into a guard position, mimicking Archer. He's smiling tightly. "Sure. She's going to be pissed after she finds out, I hope you know."

Edited 2013-04-21 21:32 (UTC)

Archer's not the kind of guy who can seek an answer so easily as by asking for it. No, he has to win it through blood and pain and sacrifice and battle. But Shirou should know that well enough.

"I must have forgotten what I once thought of sin, since it seems all concepts are meaningless right now. The only thing that has meaning to me is seeing you dead." He readies himself to attack--but hesitates for a split second at those last words from Shirou.

In truth, he is seeking an answer from the boy. He's always seeking an answer from his younger self, as he's too broken now to find any on his own power. But it's an answer to an impossible question: how can I be worthy of serving Rin Matou again? He can't. He can't, so he'll just kill Shirou and be done with it--

"I'm not her Servant anymore, so why should I care?"

Archer launches himself forward at Shirou, his swords out for the attack.

Shirou misses the hesitation entirely.

When Archer brings words like should and why into it, Shirou gets the feeling he's looking for justifications. In a way, that pisses him off even more and increases the urge to feed him his knuckles. He snaps back as Archer lunges forward, swords raised to attack.

"Servant or not, whatever! That's not the point. She's a person precious to you! If you're going to say crap like you don't care, that's a l—" His teeth jar unpleasantly as he blocks the swords the man swung at him with his own weapons.

The blunt power, and the strength of Archer's contempt behind the blow almost push him back, almost knock him over. It confirms what he already known. He and this Servant are on two different levels, Shirou being on the much lower one. Irritated, he slashes back at him with a sword.

"That's where you're wrong." Archer casually blocks the sword that comes at him with just one of his own swords, and he pushes back against Shirou as he does so. He's barely holding anything back--just enough to keep Shirou alive long enough to rant at him some more. "A person precious to me? Hahaha..."

He lunges forward again on the tail end of his bitter laughter, swords flashing swiftly out.

"I don't have any of those anymore. I'll betray anything and anyone. Someday, you will too."

Wrong?

You don't stay by the side of people who aren't precious to you when you don't need to. Back home, Archer hadn't needed to stay in Fuyuki and follow Rin's orders. And he had anyway. It seemed logical to him. Why would he say that was wrong? ???

"I wouldn't."

Shirou holds his ground with difficulty when Archer blocks his strike and shoves back against him, thankful that the hallway was clear of debris or rubble that would block the terrain. Again, he repeats himself in case he wasn't heard over the sound of metal clashing against metal. Something about the implication about his loyalty annoyed him deeply. No, be quiet, he was a lot of things but he wasn't disloyal. "Shut up! I wouldn't betray people like that, ever, just because you say I will."

The man laughed bitterly and launches himself at him. He parries, straining to keep up with the barrage of swift attacks raining down on him. Every time he swung the sword through the air to slash back, its limitations became clear. He's losing badly. Very badly.

"Do you think this is anything other than pointless, stupid!" It's crazy. It's really, honestly crazy that Shirou can call Archer something like that when he's currently getting the shit beaten out of him by this Servant. But Shirou accuses Archer anyway, almost goading him on. "Guh. Did... you end your contract with her just so you could run away and pointlessly kill Emiya Shirou?"

Edited (whee stop tagging in the middle of the night self) 2013-04-24 22:38 (UTC)

"It doesn't matter what I say." Archer lets himself be pushed back slightly as Shirou frantically parries his attacks. "No, no matter what, your path leads to me, and I've betrayed everything and everyone I was ever sworn to--"

He lunges again, and this time he really intends to wound, to crack ribs and draw blood. It's no killing blow yet, but it's one that should be impossible for human strength to block.

"End my contract with her for that? Don't be stupid." Though he knows how hard that is for the boy he now faces. "That's just how I betrayed her back home. Here I betrayed her for no reason at all. Just because the administrators told me to."

Of course not. What he says doesn't matter. Emiya Shirou aspires to be a superhero and the superheroes he sought to be don't betray their ideals or their allies, even when it ruins them.

If he'd had the chance to speak before Archer lunged, Shirou would have scathingly replied with a retort that Archer was being pretentious and he was certainly not an unalterable fate that awaited him no matter what, so he could do them both a favor and keep that stupid mouth of his shut so this stupid crap he kept stupidly spewing would crease flowing out.

And maybe if he'd thought to check one of the terminals and seen Guy's post regarding the treacheries the unwilling puppets of the administration had been forced into committing before coming to this meeting, Shirou would have known what Archer was actually going on about instead of guessing that the Servant was upset over killing Rin, like he was.

But then that blow comes, and he can't block it. Shirou's pupils dilute in agony when Archer's blade smashes into his body, and... oh. That was definitively the cracking sound of some ribs snapping unpleasantly inside him. His skin tears. A breathless gasp and a loud, pained groan escapes him, temporarily erasing the sound of Archer's voice from his mind.

The boy remains on his feet. Ignoring his wounds, he lunges again, desperately slashing at his opponent.

A savage smile flashes over Archer's face at that look of pain on Shirou's face. He enjoys it. He enjoys seeing that face in agony. It's the only thing he can enjoy right now.

Didn't he almost enjoy some other things for a little while? Things like taking care of Rin?

No way. That's simply not possible.

"Yeah, it seems like you're starting to get it." Archer backs off for a few seconds: just long enough to gloat. "That doesn't mean I'll spare you. Not so long as you keep fighting back--"

He lashes out again, one blade flying at the side of Shirou's chest that hasn't yet been nearly shattered.

The smug gloating from Archer, and not the throes of pain alone, is making him see vivd flashes of red across his vision. Red like his overcoat, red like the blood just beginning to soak through his t-shirt in spots. His fractured ribs grind against each other, protesting even the minimal actions of his body.

Shut up. Shut up. He pisses him off so much. So just shut up.

"Ah... Hah, ah!" He takes a breath of air. A confirmation that he will stubbornly continue to fight. "Like I'd want your mercy."

Shirou grits his teeth together in defiance of that agony and barely parries the Servant's next attack aimed for his chest, shaving off the impact of the vicious blow with a purely defensive block. The crashing of the blades throws off sparks. The impact shakes his arm and a finger snaps. It comes with another cost, that block; the sword in Shirou's hand shatters.

It takes a moment to project an replacement.

"You'll get it anyway." Archer keeps fighting, deftly parrying Shirou's clumsy blows and hurling his own at him. Well, "deftly" is a relative term. There's no finesse in Archer's style, either. It's just far more practiced than Shirou's, and with far more strength behind it.

"Death is merciful for someone like you. Even if it doesn't last."

There. The sword Shirou had in one hand is gone. Archer's ready to make his final blow. He's ready to end this.

While Shirou's ability to block is pitifully limited, Archer stabs forward for the killing blow.

One momentary lapse in concentration on the battle in front of him and a limitation on his ability to repel an attack while dealing blows of his own, that's all it takes to signal Shirou's loss in this battle.

The sword Archer thrusts forward punctures his chest, and scraping against bone, its sharp blade stabs cleanly through the bulk of muscle and warm organs to the other side of the boy. Shirou's eyes widen slightly.

"—Gah, ah..."

He can feel the steel lodged inside him, a final blow dealt to him. All the warmth and feeling in his body dissipates with a familiar swiftness—death. Shirou coughs a few times, blood coming up and flowing southward to drip off his chin. His remaining sword stays clenched tightly in his hand for a second before his fingers loosen reluctantly and it vanishes.

Archer can notice Shirou's last, futile attempts to remain standing while impaled on his bloodstained weapon before that too, ends with his life. The teenager's vision flickers. Sputters. He can't focus. Even the pain becomes distant, unimportant. A familiar sensation, dying.

The world goes black.

Archer is left standing alone in the hallway with Emiya Shirou's empty-eyed, lifeless corpse.

Edited 2013-04-28 22:23 (UTC)

Arturia had left Archer a note the day before telling him she wanted to talk to him. She'd seen Guy's post on the Network and known, in the back of her mind, that he had been among those who had been brainwashed so thoroughly they had been tricked. Naturally, she wished to speak to him. Once she knew what he had been forced to tell the Administrators, she could figure out where to go from here. At the best, he told them she was involved with the Resistance--now Pandora.

She could not think of what the worst he'd been forced to tell could be.

Earlier that morning she'd gone down to the lower floors to hunt. Being in bed the day before to sleep her exhaustion away had left her restless and her love of hunting had been rekindled in the Tower. So she had spent the morning snaring and preparing some rabbits for cooking. Part of her even mused the idea of offering the game to Archer to cook for Rin, as she had before.

She had just stepped off the elevator onto the floor hers and Archer's rooms were on when she heard the telltale sounds of battle--the striking of blade against blade and flesh, the shouts of two people arguing.

Those voices belonged to Shirou and Archer.

Arturia had dropped the rabbits she'd strung up to present to Archer and ran for their rooms. Why would they be fighting? Especially now when what people needed the most was to think clearly? When Archer knew she would be coming to speak with him?

When she turns the corner it's as Archer's blade made the killing blow and Arturia stops cold, her face going sickly pale at the sight before her. No. No. Nononono. She'd told this Shirou she would protect him. She told him she would not let the monsters of the Tower get to him.

And she had failed. Again. For a brief moment she's back in the church in Fuyuki standing above Shirou's decapitated corpse, Excalibur bloody in her hands and Kotomine saying something about her being worthy of the Grail. Everything after that moment is still a daze to her.

"Archer: What have you done?"

In that moment, she forgets death is not permanent here. All she can think of is the fact Shirou is dead, Archer had killed him, and she had failed to keep her word once again.

It feels good.

It feels good when his sword cuts through Shirou's chest and slices the life right out of him. There's almost a hunger in Archer's eyes as he watches the life drain out of the boy.

This might not always have been what he wanted. He might have wanted to see something else at the end of a fight once. Even when he claimed to pursue self-destruction, he might have wanted an answer above all. But right now, he just wants to see that familiar face go dead. And that's what he gets.

For a fleeting second, he feels almost peaceful. He holds Shirou Emiya's life in his hands and he's wiped it out; what more could he ever ask for?

Then he lets the body slide off his sword and reality returns to him. It won't last. Even if it did, it wouldn't solve anything. Their souls are separate things here, and Archer will remain--

But not for long. A bitter smile twists up his face as he sees Arturia approach. Good. This was also in the plan. This was definitely just a part of the plan, and he can't let himself succumb to the hurt he feels upon seeing that look on Saber's face. He's good at covering things like that up, so he just smirks.

"What have I done? It should really be obvious, Saber." He gestures at the slumped body with his bloodied sword. "I've corrected some small thing about this stupid tower. For a little while, Shirou Emiya is no longer in it."

"Shirou is no small thing!" she shouts, the pain beginning to her voice. There's a whispering in her head reminding her she's a failure. Nothing more than a failure. Always would be a failure if she couldn't even protect one person she held dear.

If she let everything she held precious get destroyed.

She's never felt rage like this before, never felt pain. Not after she had cut down Shirou herself, not when she'd been forced to cut down every last man, woman, and child of Camelot. It's hot enough she feels co.ld, white-hot ice running through her veins as she stares at Archer, as Caliburn appears in one hand in a white-knuckled grip.

Don't cry. She promised Archer she would never let him see her cry again on that day she first arrived in this god forsaken tower. There were no words in her as she took Caliburn in a two-handed grip and charged at Archer. There are no further words she can say, only rage and the copper smell of Shirou's blood fill her senses. All that matters is making sure this enemy can never ever hurt Shirou again.

He can't regret this. He can regret everything else, but he can't regret this. He can't succumb to the spark of sorrow he feels starting to electrify his heart at the sight of that look on Saber's face.

So he lifts his own swords in front of him to swiftly block Caliburn, and he lets only a savage grin show on his face. "Good!" His voice is nearly a roar. "Follow your pain and see if you can finish the job, Saber!"

And she does. She can't think, not like this. All that matters is Shirou is dead dead dead and it doesn't register to her that he'll be alive again come the morning. In her mind she's back in the church, Kotomine telling her she'd done well, and Archer has Shirou's blood on his swords.

He blocks Caliburn, but with a sound that's half roar and half misery she brings Caliburn up and swings it in a wide arc to strike at his side. It's sloppy. So horribly sloppy, but she's running on pain and instinct and she's just too damned tired and numb to care. What Archer says doesn't even register to her. All that matters is she needs to stop the thing that hurt Shirou, the thing responsible for Shirou's pain.

Maybe then the pain will finally stop, even if she knows deep in her heart it'll only make it worse. She doesn't even have the excuse of Saber's curse eating away at her mind: this pain? This rage? It's all her and no one else.

It should be easy for him to block that stroke of the sword. Instead, he barely gets to it in time. Why? Hasn't he always wanted to face Saber as an equal in battle?

But not like this.

"You're not doing your best, Saber." His voice is a bit calmer now, but it still has more than a hint of a snarl. "I'm no swordsman and I managed to block that. Try harder!"

She's coming at him with a sword even he could barely project if he tried. She's coming at him in a rage. Saber shouldn't be like this, even if she's not Saber any longer. He shouldn't be using her this way.

That only reaffirms his determination, though. He needs to die, at least for a little while, and Saber should be the one to land the killing blow.

He lashes out with his swords once more, all brute strength and anger, no technique.

This is not a battle of equals. This can't even be called a proper battle, not really. This is suicide on Archer's part in more ways than one. Arturia just happens to be the instrument with which he chose to die.

Through the pain and rage his words reach her and this time they wound her pride, one of the few things she still clings to. One of the few things keeping her sane. The sword in her hands is one Shirou had projected when they fought Berserker together and defeated him.

Maybe that's why she was twisted by the world so: to constantly remind her of what she had done.

In this state instinct takes over and Saber was practically born for the art of the sword. She dodges his swords easily, twisting to the side. His blade manages to cut the hem of one of her skirts, but that doesn't matter. It'll repair itself in time. Arturia manages to get behind him and swings Caliburn, aiming to pierce him through the back, all her rage strengthening the blow to be sure it'll get through his armor.

No, it's not a battle. It's just a bloody mess. In that, it's not unlike the fight that just took place. The one that left Shirou lying dead on the floor behind Archer now.

Archer swings Kanshou and Bakuya once more, but the movement is slow. He was distracted: distracted by the beautiful blade Saber wields. Caliburn. The lost sword that he once, so long ago, saw in dreams. In his rage, he slips long enough to let himself think, maybe it's not so bad if I can be cut down by something so beautiful--

The sword leaves his vision even as he thinks that, and he snaps out of it. She's behind him now. That's no good. Archer spins around to meet her.

With his speed, he has time to do that before her blow lands. But he doesn't have time to actually lift his swords to block the blow.

Caliburn cuts through his armor with a crack and slices into his chest. Archer staggers and slides forward on the blade, then smiles faintly, distantly.

That smile.

It's so much like Shirou's it makes her heart break all over again and in an instant the pained look on her face changes to one of sheer horror. Archer is among one of the many possible futures Shirou could have had and now he's on her blade and smiling at her in a way that is so reminiscent of how Shirou looked at her before he kissed her.

"Ar-Archer....?" her voice is faint and that's when it clicks in her head.

Archer knew she had been coming to speak with him.

Archer knew how seeing Shirou dead would affect her.

She looks up at his face, the sense of betrayal, the sense of being used breaking a dam within her and tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Arturia does not sob. She does not wail. The tears spill down her cheeks as she reaches out for his shoulder and, with some effort, pulls Caliburn from his chest.

"Why...?" she asks as she eases him to the floor. Something amidst her warring emotions screams at her to keep him from falling, at least, to let him have some peace as he dies.

He doesn't fall. He just sags forward a little. One hand suddenly grasps at Arturia's shoulder.

It's not that he's afraid of the darkness coming at him. Even before he was in a place where he'd come back again and again, Archer hadn't feared death in a very long time. It's just an acquaintance dropping by at this point.

He struggles to speak around the growing sense of disconnection from his body, around the blood bubbling up in his throat and trickling from his mouth. He manages a little. "...you had that wish once. Destroy everything of myself...it's way better that way. I--" He chokes on blood before he can continue.

But Archer still looks up at her with a pure smile. "Saber..." He gets his voice back for a few seconds. It's so close to Shirou's voice. "Don't cry."

He lifts one hand, now free of any swords, and tries to touch her cheek. He wants to wipe away those tears. But he doesn't have the strength. His hand slides down to his side. "Ah, sorry."

It's not as if his eyes weren't empty before, but now what light there was fades from them.

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Precious and few are the moments

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