Aftermath
"How do you feel?" Saber asks me, genuinely concerned. I cannot blame her, the last time we fought an Elimination Battle I was traumatised.
"Fine… Better. You?"
Saber shrugs, back to her usual self though something is still off. "I'll manage."
I can tell she still thinks about Dan's words, though.
"You know," I start, as I get closer to her below our blanket, "I wasn't really any good all week."
Nonchalantly, Saber answers. "I noticed. It was pretty obvious."
I pout slightly. I did not know how obvious it was but I would probably feel better that way. I roll over, lying on my back and facing the ceiling.
"I don't know. When it finally sunk in that I… killed a person. A child, who didn't even understand his life is at stake. I felt so horrible, like it should have been me. I still think it should." I hold back the tears, I do not want to cry over this again.
"Bullshit. I wouldn't let you die."
"I know, but… I killed an innocent person. I can't make up for that."
Saber waits a moment, not sure if I would go on. "What about the old guy, then? He wasn't some bad person either."
I know what Saber is getting at. "He seemed content with it… Losing and dying, I mean. He was calm and I felt like he was happy, knowing he'd meet his wife again."
"Doesn't mean he wanted to die." At this point I am not sure whether she tries to cheer me up or make me feel worse.
"I know… but he knew what's at stake. I can't explain it!"
Saber chuckles. "I know what you mean, Master. I sorta enjoyed battling him and Archer. They wouldn't blame you for killing them, even if they could." Hearing this makes me feel better, for whatever reason.
"Besides, it was me who killed them. Not you. The blood's on my hands." I never really thought about this, but it's true.
"Oh… sorry. I shouldn't be the one moping, huh?"
Saber shakes her head. "It's okay. I wouldn't be a Heroic Spirit if I never took any life before, I suppose. Don't worry about me."
I inch closer and wrap my arms around her. "I worry about you anyway, though. Because I care." Saber turns away, probably flustered. By now I have noticed she cannot deal well with affectionate words.
"G-good. I mean. Goodnight," she murmurs.
Time for another restless night, with a nightmare or two, though I already feel more at ease with Saber still so close to me, in my arms.