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Upon opening his eyes, Shirou became completely sure of two things very quickly: He had died, and Satan had somehow produced for him his own personal Hell.
The last sensations he’d remembered feeling was a sense of peace and warmth spreading through his body; that warmth was gone, replaced by an agonizing burning sensation in his chest. His throat and lungs felt raw. Every breath came against his will, harsh and worsening the burning with every rise and fall of his chest. Why did he still have to breathe if he was dead?
It took every bit of strength and willpower he had to open his eyes. Since he’d died, he obviously didn’t have his glasses; he found himself nearly blinded by the blurry brightness of the room. As blurry as it was, Shirou could still tell it was as white and sterile as the labs of his childhood. Satan had chosen his environment carefully. The only thing he could see clearly was a strange device protruding from his mouth. Shirou thought it was a gag at first, but upon pursing his lips realized it was some kind of tube. He moved his arms to pull it out only to find he’d been restrained. He looked down at his wrists with disgust; the soft, harmless appearance of the cuffs felt like insult to injury. Part of him would have preferred burning metal handcuffs or barbed wire. They had no business being able to tie him down with these blue and white things .
A dark blob in the corner of the room moved and grew, catching Shirou’s attention. “Holy shit, you’re awake!” It exclaimed in Rin’s voice. An especially cruel touch. He could only pray this wasn’t the real Rin, that his son was safe mourning him in Assiah and not trapped in Gehenna with him.
“Old man, it’s me. It’s Rin,” it said, the words sounding distant even as it moved closer. Shirou cringed away as much as the restraints allowed, shaking his head. When the creature was right next to him, Shirou could tell it even looked like his son— but not quite. The ears were too sharp, and its eyes were too bright of a blue. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to look at the hurt expression the demon was wearing on his son’s face. He wouldn’t let their crocodile tears get to him. He felt its too warm hand grip his, sending a shudder down his spine. “Yukio and I were worried you wouldn’t wake up—”
A cacophony of beeping and ringing interrupted the demon’s lies. Another dark figure rushed in, speaking quickly to the imposter and to Shirou. Sounds stopped making sense. He could tell the two demons were having some sort of heated conversation, probably about him, but the words all seemed to blend together.
He felt something cold enter his body, followed by a warm, heavy sensation. As quickly as he’d woken up, darkness began to envelop him again. Shirou welcomed it.