Chapter Text
“Aaaand Team I ❤ SJ wins!”
Along with the booming megaphone, cheers and shouts erupted from the bystanders’ area. Despite it only being the semi-finals of Chaldea’s summer volleyball tournament, a large crowd of spectators had pooled within the area. Servants and staff alike were more than curious to see the alleged “dark horse” duo of the competition.
“To say that this is a competition would be an insult to us,” a stern voice from Artoria Alter. She had already whipped out a frozen ice lolly, licking the cool cream as she exited the main arena. “You should start making way, mad dog.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Jeanne Alter rasped, still catching her breath from the game. She hobbled off, the sand feeling rather hot for her unusually cold feet. Her head spun a bit. “You’re only saying that crap since I covered for your lousy serves.”
“Oho, and you look even paler than your hair. Did you lose that much power after becoming a measly four-star?” Rider Alter scoffed, the popsicle miraculously still wedged between her teeth as she spoke.
“And even after gaining an extra one, you’re still an ice bitch queen,” grumbled the Berserker, still catching her breath. “And who came up with the shitty team name?”
“Master said it was what appealed to a majority of the spectators.”
“Well, they can all go to hell,” groaned the former saint.
“Are you against having such name?”
“… No.”
A good amount of their walk was a silent one, at least between the two Alters. As it was the summer season, it was no surprise to see Servants causing quite a stir left and right. Children Servants were building sand castles at the shore, many of which looked more like damp clumps. The smell of freshly grilled meat wafted, as a cook-out was also happening nearby. They too walked past a group doing some sort watermelon smashing event. Cries of Nobunaga erupted as a blindfolded Okita was purposely inching towards her exposed head.
“They’re doing Suikawari, not like a maid like you would know any Japanese,” Jeanne Alter dismissively explains, to which Artoria shrugs while opening a second ice cream pack.
“Oi.”
“Hmm?” Rider nonchalantly glances back at the Berserker.
By the time they had stopped walking, they were at a rather secluded area on the beach. Not too much people, and the voices were now but echoes at this distance.
“I’m heading back, I was expecting you to lead us to the restaurant since you’re a glutton—“
A hand launches to the side of Jeanne Alter’s face, to which she instinctively flinches. She feels the prickly wood of the tree against her back, but pays more attention at the offending hand that palmed its bark. Seeing that it was only Artoria’s, and how her arm is effectively trapping her from any obvious escape routes, she just dares to stare down at the shorter Alter.
“I've taken the liberty of watching all your moves up to now, assault girl.” the maid started. A surprised look flashed across Jeanne Alter’s face. “Cutting to the chase, you're not bad. As expected of the partner I chose.” Artoria drawls, now inching closer. She only stops a breath away from Jeanne’s face. This does nothing to quell the heat between the two, except for the cold ice cream now dripping onto Jeanne's collar. The popsicle on Alter's mouth is neglected once more, as the two are having a rather heated stare down. “But don't get too full of yourself. The path to a formidable team isn't built in a year.”
The Berserker reaches out to snatch the front of Artoria’s jacket. “And you shouldn’t get all that hot air in your head, maid,” she grit her teeth, a stark difference to Rider’s icy countenance. It doesn’t help how their noses are now brushing against each other, and the Berserker is quick to notice such. As if her rapidly coloring cheeks could speak, she could only muster so much verbal barbs at this point. “I-It’s rather creepy to hear you break into a speech like this. Did the volleyball hit you in the skull? Kind of wish it did.”
A cool hand now clasps onto the one grasping onto the black hoodie. “You want to win this tournament, correct?”
Jeanne’s eyebrows knit all the more, but she knows when Artoria is being deadly serious – especially a while back when she had deflected several spikes meant for the Berserker.
... Okay, she admits that Artoria is a good partner, if not great. Then again, that was the last of things she would ever confess to the Rider. Back to reality, she can feel the maid Alter now pressing her front closer, awaiting a reply. Jeanne quickly nods in response, in the hopes to get that sickly pale stomach off her own.
“Then from here on, by my side, we shall set course for the title as champions,” the Rider finishes, now removing the other Alter’s hand from her. “You better be ready for it.”
To which, the white-haired girl leers at the Alter before her. “Oh I’m born ready to wreck shit this vacation time—“ The smug grin instantly wipes off her face as Rider leans even further, her palm still pressed deeply onto the tree's surface. A generous blush now settles over the former Avenger's cheeks.
“And this is..." she can now feel a warm breath puff against her ear. The weather was already hot and humid, but this was enough to make her sweat even just a bit more. "Why is she being too close?!" she mentally shouted.
"A kabedon.” Artoria flatly says, now backing away from the Berserker. “And you were saying something about my limited knowledge of cross-cultures?” she sneers, making sure that the Berserker sees every inch of her triumphant smirk.
Even from a secluded area, Jeanne Alter’s screams were very much audible.