Vol.02 Ch.23 A life that didn't end

In the deep, damp shadows of the forest floor, the passing of time was marked only by the shifting light through the dense canopy.

At the base of the towering cliff, Shirou lay crumpled against the cold earth. He wasn't neatly sprawled—he was simply discarded, like an object that had fallen from a great height and had never been meant to rise again. Thick, black mud clung to his clothes. His blood had long since soaked through the fabric, drying in dark, stiff patches in some places while remaining fresh and wet in others. Above him, the rain kept falling, steady and entirely uncaring, tapping rhythmically against his skin, his face, and his half-open, lifeless eyes.

It did not matter.

His body barely registered the elements. Breathing came… eventually. It was a slow, agonizing process, so shallow that it almost didn't happen at all. A long pause. Then another. If a traveler had been watching from the treeline, they would have easily mistaken him for a corpse.

But he wasn’t. Not yet.

There was no dramatic scream. No frantic attempt to move. Even the pain—the blinding agony that should have been tearing through his broken bones and torn flesh—felt distant. It felt detached, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

His crimson eyes stared blankly upward, completely unfocused. The sky above blurred into a uniform, oppressive grey. At some point, the effort became too great, and he stopped trying to see it.

Instead, the world behind his eyelids began to flicker. They weren't coherent thoughts, not really. Just broken, jagged pieces of a nightmare.

Fire.

The acrid smell of burning wood—or perhaps burning flesh. The phantom echo of someone calling his name through the smoke. Or maybe he had simply imagined that part.

Alicia.

…Sarah.

Vanessa—

"I don’t want to die…"

His fingers twitched against the earth, barely shifting the wet mud beneath them.

"…I…"

The word refused to form correctly. His throat was too dry, choked with ash and blood.

"…couldn’t…"

A ragged breath hitched violently in his chest.

"…protect…"

The thought fell apart there. Whatever word was meant to follow never made it past his lips. The next breath never truly came either.

And just like that, everything went quiet. It didn't happen suddenly, but rather as a gradual fading away. Less sound. Less weight. Less of anything. Until finally, there was absolutely nothing left to notice.

Rustle… rustle…

A faint sound cut through the quiet dampness of the clearing. Something was moving through the thick bushes nearby—careful, slow, and hesitant. It stopped once. Then it stopped again, watching from the security of the undergrowth.

Finally, a small shape slipped out from beneath the massive leaves, hesitating at the very edge of the clearing. It didn't dare to get close at first. It simply stood there in the rain.

Looking. 

 few days later

"…Mm…"

The sound was weak, rough, and entirely hollow—like an instrument that hadn't been tuned or used in a long time.

The darkness behind his eyes didn't vanish all at once; instead, it cracked like brittle glass. Sharp, unwanted light pressed aggressively through the gaps.

"…ugh…"

This time, the pain arrived with the light. It didn't hit all at once, but it flooded his senses fast enough. A sharp, localized pull flared in his chest with every heartbeat. A dull, heavy ache resonated through every limb, and a tight, restrictive pressure along his flank made the simple act of breathing feel entirely wrong.

Shirou’s eyes opened halfway before immediately snapping shut against the glare. It was too bright. It was entirely too much.

Somewhere nearby in the shadows, something shifted quickly—then instantly stilled. Shirou didn't notice. Not really.

After a few grueling seconds—perhaps longer—he forced his eyelids open once more. The world remained. It was blurry, shifting, but undeniably there.

He was looking at a ceiling of uneven, jagged stone. A faint, earthy scent hung in the air—damp soil, crushed forest leaves, and something starkly bitter underneath it all.

"…where…"

His voice came out incredibly thin, barely a rasp. He swallowed, regretted the action immediately as his throat burned, and decided against trying a second time.

Instead, he braced his palm against the ground to steady himself. But it wasn't the hard stone he expected. It was soft, layered, and deep. Leaves? The bedding shifted slightly under his concentrated weight. It was a makeshift berth. Someone had actively gathered this material and made it for him.

That realization took a few seconds to fully settle in his hazy mind.

Slowly, his other hand moved—much slower this time—and brushed tentatively against his side. There was cloth wrapped securely around his torso. Beneath the makeshift bandages, he could feel something cool, thick, and sticky against his wounds. Crushed medicinal herbs, most likely. It wasn't the clean, professional work of a town doctor, but it was executed with an undeniable amount of care.

He stared at the green stains on the cloth for a long time.

"…I’m… alive…"

The words carried no sense of relief. It sounded more like profound confusion. Or perhaps, deep down, a bitter disappointment.

"I should’ve…"

He stopped. He didn't finish the sentence.

The cave remained entirely quiet. Too quiet.

"I have to go back," he muttered after a long moment, his voice growing a fraction steadier as his adrenaline began to fight the fatigue. "The village…"

The word felt immensely heavier than it ever had before.

He planted his hands and pushed his upper body up from the bed of leaves. The attempt did not go well. His arm began to shake almost immediately under his weight, and the rest of his body followed in violent tremors. The movement aggravated his cracked ribs, and a sharp, blinding pain flared through his side—sharp enough to forcibly drive the breath from his lungs.

"…ah—"

He made it only halfway up before his strength completely gave out. The ground rushed up to meet him—

—but it didn't quite reach him.

Something shifted behind him with incredible agility. Close. Entirely too close.

"…Hey…" His voice dropped, rough and ragged, but his survival instincts forced him into alertness. "…someone’s there."

Silence answered him. He didn't turn around; his body physically wouldn't allow him to rotate fully.

"…I know you are," he rasped, his eyes scanning the dark perimeter of the stone wall. "…come out."

For a tense second, nothing happened. Then, a small, nearly imperceptible sound echoed through the cavern. A slow, careful movement.

Shirou managed to turn his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the shadow.

It was a child.

She stepped out from behind a large boulder, her posture rigid, as if she fully expected to be yelled at or chased back into the darkness at any given moment. She was small, remarkably thin, and looked fragile. Her hair caught the faint light filtering into the cave first—a soft, pale blue that looked almost like polished silver where the strands thinned at the ends.

She didn't look at him directly. Her wide eyes remained fixed on the space just beside him, as if keeping him in her periphery was somehow safer.

Then, from her back, something shifted slightly beneath her clothes.

Wings. They weren't large, nor were they fully spread. They were just there—folded tight against her shoulder blades, faintly translucent and shifting like twilight. And behind her, a thin, scaled tail flicked once against the stone before stilling completely.

Shirou blinked, his mind struggling to process the imagery.

"…a dragon…?"

The word felt entirely foreign and strange in his mouth.

"…no…"

It didn't make logical sense. He stared at her a little longer than he intended to, his crimson eyes raking over her non-human features. Then, his gaze flicked down to the hand-woven bandages on his chest, and then straight back up to her pale face.

"…you did this?" he asked quietly. "…you saved me?"

The little girl flinched at the sound of his voice. Her shoulders pulled inward, her wings tucking even tighter against her back. Then, after a agonizing second of hesitation, she offered a nod. It was a small, careful movement—as if she might take it back if he reacted poorly.

Shirou let out a long, ragged breath. It wasn't steady.

"…why…?"

He didn't look at her when he asked the question. His hand curled into a tight fist, clutching the dry leaves of his bed.

"…you shouldn’t have…" His voice thinned out, cracking slightly under the weight of his reality. "I couldn’t even…"

He stopped himself. He shook his head once, trying to clear the cobwebs of the slaughter from his mind.

"…doesn’t matter."

A single warm drop hit his cheek. He didn't notice it at first, assuming it was the condensation from the cave ceiling.

"I said I would protect them," he went on, his voice dropping into a quiet, hollow whisper. "I said it out loud… like it actually meant something." Another breath escaped him, completely unsteady and broken. "…and then I just—"

Nothing came out after that. He didn't try to force the words anymore. The heavy silence of the cave filled the space instead.

The half-dragon girl hadn't moved an inch. She simply stood there, watching the broken boy unravel on the bed of leaves. For a few silent seconds, she remained frozen.

Then, without warning, she ran forward.

She moved entirely too fast for his battered body to react. Before Shirou could pull away or raise a defensive arm, her small arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

Shirou stiffened instantly, his muscles locking up. "…wha—"

He stopped. Her grip tightened around him. She wasn't remarkably strong, but her hold was desperate—unyielding, as if she were anchoring herself to the only other living soul in the world.

Suddenly, a distinct, localized warmth soaked through the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder. It took his slow mind a second to realize what was happening.

She was crying.

"…hey…" His voice softened entirely without his permission, the raw malice leaving his tone. "…why are you—"

He didn't finish that either. There wasn't a point. She wouldn't—or couldn't—answer him. Slowly, awkwardly, he lifted his uninjured hand and rested it gently against the small of her back. It wasn't quite a proper hug, but he didn't push her away either.

"…it’s fine," he said after a long moment. It wasn't convincing. Not even to his own ears.

He exhaled a long breath and gently nudged her back by the shoulders so he could look at her. "…what’s your name?"

The girl blinked at him through tear-brimming eyes. She tilted her head slightly, but no words came from her lips.

"…you understand me, right?" Shirou asked.

She nodded quickly, her pale blue hair shifting.

"…but you can’t talk…"

"…mm." A small, soft sound escaped her throat. She looked down, appearing almost embarrassed by her own silence.

Shirou huffed a quiet, exhausted breath. "…figures." He wiped roughly at his face with the back of his hand, trying to clear the grime and tears. "…that’s okay. It’s… better than nothing."

Grrr…

A loud, rumbling sound abruptly cut through the solemn quiet of the cavern.

Shirou froze instantly, his face turning a slight shade of red. He quickly looked away toward the far stone wall. "…ignore that."

The girl blinked, her tears instantly drying up as she stared at his midsection.

"…I’m just—" He hesitated, clearing his throat. "…hungry."

The little girl’s expression shifted instantly. Her eyes lit up, and her wings gave a small, excited flutter.

"Ah—!"

She jumped to her feet with startling agility and bolted out of the cave entrance before he could utter another syllable.

"…wait—"

It was entirely too late. Shirou stared blankly at the empty stone archway. "…she’s fast…"

A few minutes passed in complete isolation. Or perhaps it was longer; without his watch or the sun, he couldn't be entirely sure.

When the rustling returned, the girl emerged from the forest foliage. She was holding an absolute bounty of wild forest fruit—far more than her small hands could properly manage—pressed awkwardly against her chest to keep them from spilling onto the dirt.

"Uu!" she chimed happily, stepping up to his bedside. She extended her arms, offering the fruits with a small, visibly proud smile.

Shirou stared at her for a moment, the sheer innocence of the gesture striking a dull chord in his chest. Then, he reached out and took a few of them. "…thanks."

He ate slowly, mostly because his jaw and chest ached with every movement. The girl sat quietly on the dirt beside his bed of leaves, watching him closely at first to ensure he was alright, before picking up a small berry and eating it herself.

There was no talking. Just small, ambient sounds—the quiet chewing, the rustling of leaves, and the faint, rhythmic drip of water echoing from the deeper recesses of the cave system. It wasn't a peaceful atmosphere, not exactly; the ghost of the village still haunted the back of Shirou's mind. But it wasn't loud or chaotic either. And right now, that silence was… something he desperately needed.

After a while, when the ache in his stomach had subsided, Shirou broke the quiet. "…is there anyone else here? Someone… who can talk?"

The girl stilled completely. Her small hands tightened slightly around the remaining fruit in her lap.

"…uu…"

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her tail lowering listlessly into the dirt.

That was more than enough of an answer.

"…right," Shirou murmured, his voice dipping back into a somber tone. He turned his head, his crimson eyes locking onto the bright light filtering through the cave entrance. "…I still need to go back."

The words came out significantly firmer this time, carrying the weight of a vow that refused to die. Even if the rest of his broken, aching body didn't agree with the sentiment.

The half-dragon girl stood up slowly, observing him. Then, she raised a thin arm and pointed directly outside toward the wilderness.

"…yeah," Shirou nodded once, steeling his resolve. "…I figured."

Getting up was exponentially worse the second time. It was a slower, deeply agonizing process. Every single muscle fiber had to be consciously thought through and commanded to move. He didn't try to stand freely; instead, he dragged himself to the cavern wall, using the rough, jagged stone to brace his weight, leaning far more than he was actually standing.

Step. Pause to catch his breath. Another agonizing step.

By the time his boots finally crossed the threshold of the cave entrance, his breathing was entirely uneven and shallow once more. Still—against all physical logic—he had made it.

He stepped outside into the open air.

The forest stretched out infinitely farther than he had anticipated. Towering, ancient trees were packed tightly together, their massive, overlapping canopies completely swallowing the vast majority of the sky above. There were no designated paths. There were no signs of civilization, no smoke from distant chimneys, and no footprints in the dirt.

Just the low, hollow sound of the wind moving through endless miles of leaves.

Shirou narrowed his crimson eyes, a cold realization settling deep in his gut. "…this isn’t…" He trailed off, his voice caught in his throat.

Something about the atmosphere, the ambient mana, and the sheer density of the flora felt entirely wrong. It wasn't immediately dangerous—not yet. But it felt distinctly… off.

"…this isn't normal."

Behind him, the soft, rhythmic patter of bare feet echoed against the dirt. The small half-dragon girl stopped just a step behind him, closing the distance a little more than before. She didn't reach out to touch his clothes, but she remained close.

It was as if she had quietly decided that right beside him was exactly where she belonged.

Shirou didn't look back at her, his eyes remaining fixed on the endless, untamed wilderness before them—but he noticed.