Title: Kodachrome

Rating: PG
Characters: Shirou (Shirou x Saber-ish), Rider (Rider x Sakura friendship/more than that if you want to look at it that way), Berserker
Word Count: 813
Warning/s: A few minor spoilers, nothing major.
Summary: Their sight is tinted with a thousand different colors.
Dedication: To fujiwara san. The Shirou x Saber drabblet I wrote for you really got the ball rolling on the rest of these. FUJI-NEE YOU ARE LOVE.
A/N:Just a little something until I finish the next chapter of Road to Perdition. Originally started as a writing exercise of sorts, I liked these three drabbles enough to post them up. Proof I actually can write something besides Archer x Rin (not that there is anything wrong with that). As always, anything for more participation at fsn(underscore)fiction. For those who want to know, the poem Rider reads is an excerpt from Merope by Matthew Arnold, and the name of the overall drabble set comes from the Paul Simon song of the same name. There will probably be more to come, as it is helpful to write these little things to get the mind going.

Cross-posted to fsn(underscore)fiction and my personal lj.

Blue Sight-Shirou

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Shirou sees blue everywhere lately. Blue and gold and silver; in the sky, in the moon, in the sunlight glancing off the skyscrapers in the morning. The harder he tries not to look the more obvious it becomes a lion just within his sight, following his every move. Tireless hunter. Colors are endlessly patient, they stay until time and light and wear bleed them away to untouched white.

He told Tohsaka I may not always love Saber, but I'll always remember that I loved her; it's true, really. Until he catches a glimpse of blue (or silver, or gold, it both matters and doesn't) and feels his heart trying to escape his chest. A caged bird desperately seeking escape (again drawn to the blue, blue sky).

Red strings, Shirou thinks, feeling bitter and reminiscent at the same time. His string turned blue the moment he saw her; winding its way around his heart til he couldn't escape even if he wanted to.

And try as he might, Shirou doesn't want to. But he's always been foolish like that.

Black Sight-Rider

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For all that Rider’s gaze is hidden from the world she sees more than anyone else. Archer has his Reinforced vision, Caster her crystal ball, Saber her heightened instinct. But they only see the world anyone can see; all flesh and metal, not what lies beneath the surface. Pain, joy, sorrow, emptiness; many paint strokes on the canvas of the soul. Rider sees them all; no matter how skillfully they are hidden.

There are worlds contained within her eyes.

It is a well-known fact that Servants are matched up with like minded Masters; Sakura’s pain is hidden best of all behind a sweet, demure mask. Rider hadn’t been so startled by a human in a long time; it makes her want to try even harder for the girl in whom she sees so much of herself. In hurt, in want, in seeing what no one else does. They both have a million fractures behinds their masks, a million fragments of Sister I love you and Sister I hate you and Sister how could you.

So she reads to Sakura, her Master’s head resting tentatively on her shoulder. Rider sees through those ink and paper hearts as easily as she does flesh and blood, but the kind lies of fiction grant them a precious reprieve from harsh reality. Rider has a lovely voice, hypnotic and captivating as a swaying cobra rearing to strike.

So blindfolded Rider is the only one who sees when Sakura hands her the book with that shy smile; even as her hair intertwines with Rider’s, saying This one, please. She is the only one who sees even as she begins to read; Peace, peace is what I seek and public calm/ Endless extinction of unhappy hates…

And for a short while there is tranquility; ever-seeing woman and girl with their masks, the sound of a soothing voice, the scent of old books. It is a moment only the two of them can value to the fullest.

And they both truly do.

Lead Sight-Berserker

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Sometimes in the back of his mind, in those rare, rare moments free of madness Berserker feels a whole range of emotions. The few seconds he is granted before his mind is dragged back into a miasma of feral chaos are filled with despair, with envy, with longing. Berserker makes the most of them; for all his brawn he is far more intelligent than most people think. But that is the way it has always been. Berserker’s fame comes from being the strongest of heroes, not the noblest or most cunning.

It’s a point of view with some merit. But people often forget that getting through The Twelve Labors took more than just muscle. It isn’t often he gets to prove his intelligence, even if it doesn’t nearly come close to that of Caster or Archer.

He thinks of all this in the rapidly shrinking time after Caliburn takes him down, and feels almost happy for the first time since the war began. The most an eirei who doesn’t win the Grail can ask for is a defeat worthy of a great hero; together Saber and her Master along with the Archer’s Master managed to give him that much. A reward for giving that unknown Archer an honorable end, perhaps? Berserker liked to think so, although such a worthy opponent deserved an equally worthy end regardless.

It is only for a few moments, but during the short time before he fades out, Berserker feels like himself again. Even as the dull metal sheen of his skin fades away before his eyes, Berserker is oddly pleased. He has met his end, but it took one of history’s greatest swords and greatest heroes to do it.

For the smallest fraction of time he is free, free as a Servant ever can be. It passes quickly, though, and soon there is nothing at all.