[and the words of protest are stuck in his throat, guilt heavy on his tongue.

watches her for a moment, glancing to their hands before giving a faint, stiff nod before leading the way to the door.

it's not long, just across the room where they're standing. and it doesn't take much to open the door.

it's a normal bedroom. one sizable for a couple, but in the bed lay two silent figures, mother and daughter of different timelines... though there are still some signs of the struggle from a few days ago. even Shirou's cleaning skills can't always get the bloodstains out...]