I dunno, nothing's ever tried to eat me before. [ shirou's fingers of his real hand try to knot themselves in the sheets, but instead simply slip on the metal of the gurney, his gaze distant once again. there's things he's known about himself since the last time he woke up in this hospital that have never changed, but its trying to fit everything else in around them that is so hard. like a part of him just wants to be happy, and is resisting looking over the edge at what might be deeper down inside.

but memory is a slippery slope, and like the grip he cant seem to find on the gurney, he can't stop himself from trying to give juno a true answer. ]

I've dreamed about the swords, though. And...

[ shirou's pause is longer, his gaze even more distant, and thinks about waking up in the hallway in a pool of his own blood. the sensation of a spear thrust right into his heart, splitting his panicked breath in half. it was right over his heart — right there, a vertical puncture wound. he can almost feel it, just thinking about it, and unconsciously starts to reach for the phantom injury. instead of a pierced heart, all he finds is a thin cut on his palm as he thoughtlessly touches one of his own swords, the new pain sharp against the dull, constant wave in his chest and arm for only a second. almost missed. he hides the cut in a balled up fist, but still, he can feel the blood starting to seep against his fingers.

finally, he looks back up at juno, eyes bright, brow furrowed. ]

I... I think— I was killed, once. It kind of felt — feels like that. But all over, instead of just in one spot.