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"So, I'll leave Senpai on your hands for a bit, Sir!"
"Eeh... Are you really in a rush to see Da Vinci?"
"Yes! And, um, didn't you say you wanted to talk to him?"
I can't deny it. I did came all the way to his office to talk to him. I wave at Mash, sighing. Agreeing. She nods then smile at me, saying thank you.
Now, it's rare for just the two of us, the Master and I, to be together in a room, alone. I realize this as soon as Mash leaves. Taking a seat in front of his table, I stare at his sleeping face—because, obviously, where else?
This is bad. You'd realize it's quite dangerous to simply walk aimlessly unguarded in a foreign land, or to go to a battlefield without a shield. The invisible eyes, ones you aren't even aware of, are seeing you. It can be a mere glance or they could choose to watch closer, it can be a mere curiosity or they could mean to harm you. That is his state. And the latter is mine.
Little I know about when it started, but by the time I realize, I've been watching him more. I've been greeting him more, and I've been eager to see him back here in Chaldea, after a long mission. This is normal for a Servant, normal for some, not for some—like those musicians, those artists, they really live in their own world. Us Servants equally adore him. Maybe it's an effect of this contract, maybe it's his charisma. I knew that, but I don't know this one in particular; when I started to chase his gaze, and when I started to think how soft his skin'd feel under my touch. I don't think this is quite normal. The attraction I can understand, after all it's the norm to love whoever you want—both here or back in Troy. What I don't understand is, why him?
I wasn't the first choice to anything. I work with him on the field for just a normal amount. I'm not his trusted anything, and for an old Lancer like myself, it never really bothers me. It means more rest, right? A veteran like myself works better behind the desk and tents, mumbling about strategies and such, let the young ones do the dirty work. That'd be ideal for me, well, even though now I realized that I can't really complain either when he chose to bring me along to the battlefield.
"You're one of my stronger Lancers, so I'm counting on you!"
I wonder until when this 'one of mine' status would stick onto me. Because I'm sure he'd contract stronger Lancers later in the future.
But for now I'm 'one of his'. I'd always be, but this time around, I'd still hear this from his mouth directly. His slightly parted lips. I realize now, how little my patience is regarding him when we're this close. How much I want to kiss him.
"Mng..."
"Hm?"
His fingers move. His eyebrows furrow a little. And the lips now sealed tight, all as if he dreams of something intense. Is it about battlefield, Master? Is it about the sweat and the smoke? Is it about how you command us Servants through it? Or is it about someone, maybe? Mash? That beloved Caster of yours, maybe? One of the Berserkers? One of us Lancers?
Sighing, I rest my chin on my palm, "Why'd I hope for that anyway? Haha..," a mere silly thought. It's just the loneliness you'd feel when you're old, I guess. You just miss the feeling of youth and the fresh adventures, the tides of emotions that runs amok within you, for your future and for the people around you. The feeling of satisfaction and fun while doing things recklessly. Thingking so little of what conclusion might awaits, what of its consequences. To live in the present, and not the past. I may be getting a little too old for this whole deal, right?
This isn't like me, for all I can remember from my prime—before getting directly involved with the wars however.... I can't remember to be honest. Being summoned as a Servant means one thing, but spending time in the Thrones of Heroes really ate up parts of my memories. All that left are those with stronger impact on my current self. And so, if those memories of the so-called romance didn't survive, then I'm not really fit to deal with this.
His shoulders move with the rythm of his breath. The lips are parted once more. His position now slightly changed, it's getting closer to where I put my left hand on. So I did, so I touched those lips. To my dismay; they really are incredibly soft—so soft that I immediately regret my own action. So soft that my heart skipped a beat. Coming from this old man, these all would sound incredibly ridiculous. It's soft. And if I touch his hands... And they are, too, soft, and warm. Such warmth, I wonder how easily they'd break. I wonder how much more burden this young Master can stack on his back. I wonder if I hold him too hard, he'd shatter. And I decide to retreat.
I see how the young ones would sway and follow the flow of their actions. But had I not be wiser, what become of my age and common sense? I'm old enough to hesitate, then I'd do that. Let's see how much longer this old man can endure the temptation.
"I hope before then, I can ask Master for a little kiss," I laugh, mostly at myself. How silly can I be, really?
"Huh... Mash?"
Oh... "Hey, hey, Master, do I look like Mash to you?"
"Whatever... Haaahhh," he stretches, "What are you doing here anyway, Hector? Need something..?"
I need to hold you.
"Yeah. So, about the last Singularity—"