Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sakura doesn’t register the burning feeling on her arm at first. She’s too deep in the Worm Pit to notice much of anything.

She only notices once the familiar scent of Magecraft hits her—a coppery tang of blood, or electricity. Slowly, carefully, she lifts her right arm to eye-level. Two worms helpfully slither up toward her shoulder, to give her a better view. Or perhaps they’ve been scared by the sudden burst of light.

It looks like…a flower. The three petals glow a bright red, a color that reminds her sharply of those she was told to forget. When did “Grandfather” tell me that? Yesterday…a year ago?

Sakura tries to remember, but the only memory that comes clearly to mind is the final embrace of those she called her parents, so warm, so strong. In their arms, I was safe. Why did they let me go?

Her skin feels so cold now—even the warmth from the red flower is fading.  

Despite the sadness gnawing at her heart, the flower-marks give her a little hope. Carefully lifting her other hand, she traces the petals, committing the raised lines and dry smoothness to her memory. The slimy feeling of the worms crawling over her seems to fade away, as her mind sharpens and her thoughts rise above the stale fear and numbness from before.

Sakura opens her mouth and winces as her chapped lips crack and bleed. She thinks of her father at breakfast, the sun in his hair, quizzing her and Rin about jewels and their uses.

She starts to speak, then squeezes her lips shut as a particularly fat, sickly gray worm oozes across them. It probes for entrance before sliding down her cheek. 

It occurs to her that the worms might be able to listen and understand her words. She holds back a shudder and thinks of her father’s lessons.

Opal absorbs, onyx defends, amethysts calm the mind and make travel easy…

For the next few hours she lists all the jewels she can remember, alphabetically and by property. She keeps her mind focused on the ruby-red marks on her arm—They could help me. They can help me. Ruby gives the wearer courage.

Somewhere up above, a rusty door creaks open. A cane clunks against the cold stone floor.

“Decided to be useful, have you girl?” Zouken rasps smugly. “I’ll admit, you have actually managed to surprise me. To think you of all people would be chosen by the Grail…clearly it sees something in you.” His voice goes cold, as usual. “Get up! You’re done for today. There’s someone here who’d be quite…intrigued by those Command Seals of yours.”

Sakura eases to her feet, worms scattering in all directions, some more reluctantly than others. Staring up at the man who stole her from her family, the remaining worms preserving her modesty, she quietly thanks him.

Inwardly, she dreams of his corpse.

---

Zouken’s humane enough to let Sakura see Uncle Kariya on her own. In the quiet of the mansion library, the fading light of day staining the towering red bookshelves with shadows, she shuts the door softly behind her and watches him for a moment.

Kariya’s fumbling with a lamp cord (which she hopes is made of cow leather), shoulders hunched like he’s expecting a blow from behind. The black tracksuit he always wears seems ever-so-slightly bigger than when she saw him last, and his skin is paler, but otherwise he seems the same.

The weird person here is me. Sakura scratches at the itchy lace against her throat. It feels strange wearing clothes again. I’ve changed.

Kariya manages to turn on the light—his head lifts proudly—and turns with the ease of someone who thinks he’s alone. His black eyes alight on Sakura…and he lets out a soft cry.

“S-Sakura, your hair…!”

“Huh?” Sakura looks in the hanging mirror by the door, only a little surprised at the purple stains against the Tohsaka brown strands that frame her face. “Oh. I guess the worms eat colors…”

Kariya steps forward on unbalanced legs, clearly torn between reaching out to her and holding back. “I should’ve come here yesterday. If I’d been a day late…”

“…Has it really been two days?”

“Yes, just two. We may have time—we can escape—”

Sakura’s mind flashes to both of them in the Worm Pit, followed by her parents and Rin. She shudders and shakes away the image of fat worms crawling inside them, in their throats and eyes.

“…I don’t know, Uncle Kariya. The worms will catch us. The worms will eat us.” Grandfather will eat us, is what she wants to say.

Kariya shakes his head, his smile determined. “I’ve left here before. We’ll leave here together, you’ll see.”

Sakura stares up at him, and something clicks into place. “Uncle Kariya, does Grandfather…hate his family?”

The tightness in his jaw and the brief spark of pain in his eyes tell her everything. He answers anyway: “Well…I don’t know. But I don’t think your father would do something like this.”

“Maybe.” Sakura remembers the mark on her arm, and rolls up her purple sleeve to show him. “Look. It’s like Father’s.”

Kariya stares down at the marks, mouthing a word she’s never encountered before. “Are those…Command Seals?”

Her heart races in her chest. “You know what these are? Grandfather didn’t tell me what they were. Are they special?”

Kariya rubs the back of his neck, smiling nervously. “Well, I don’t know much about Magecraft, but if your father has one, they’ve got to be. I think I’ve seen them in one of these books.”

Sakura remembers they’re in a library. “Come on, let’s find them.”

The stars glow into life outside as they pull down book after book, some in fresh smooth leather bindings, other tomes with frayed covers and faded titles. For a while, she can pretend that she’s back home, hunting through her father’s bookshelf for stray bits of knowledge she can understand. The pages tickle the pads of her fingers as she turns them, and quietly she revels in the sensation.

However, the pleasant feelings don’t last. It occurs to her and Kariya at the same time, as he reads to her a crumbling book detailing the Holy Grail War. They learn about the Founding Families, the seven Servant classes, but most importantly, the Grail and its ability to grant any wish.

“Grandfather wanted us to go looking for the answers,” Sakura says softly, hating the tremble in her voice. “That’s why we met here.”

She’s never seen her uncle so angry—though he’s trying hard to hide it. “Just because we learned about it, doesn’t mean you have to fight. It says here you can give your Command Seals to the overseer—we’ll just have to find out who that is.”

“Uncle Kariya…” she tries to keep her voice steady, tries to blink the blurry wetness from her eyes. “Uncle Kariya, the Grail thinks I’m a Matou.”

Kariya wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Hey, hey. You don’t have to fight for the Matou family’s sake. If you’re forced to be part of the family, that only makes you less of a Matou.”

Sakura doesn’t quite understand what he means, but she knows he’s offering hope, so she eagerly accepts his words. She leans her head against his side, suddenly feeling very tired.

Before her eyes droop shut, a small suspicion slithers through her mind. “Uncle Kariya?”

“…Yes, Sakura?”

“You’re not a Matou either, are you?”

His laugh is bitter. “I’d like to think not.”

Sakura makes an affirmative noise. “Good. Even if Grandfather forces you…don’t take my Command Seals.”

His breath hitches. “But—”

“The Grail chooses Mages—strong ones, like Father.” A smile tugs at her lips. “You can help me be safe. But leave the Magecraft to me, okay?”

“…Yeah. Alright, I will.” His free hand gently strokes her hair. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe, Sakura.”

Sleep finally claims her, and she lets herself fall.

---

The two days she spent in the Worm Pit make Sakura realize one thing: she refuses to learn Magecraft that way.

Unfortunately, Zouken doesn’t seem willing to teach her anything. “It appears you’ve been coddled by the Tohsaka family. You should be more open to other kinds of Magecraft—you won’t survive otherwise.”

Sakura straightens her shoulders and tries not to be afraid. “You thought I’d die with the worms.”

Zouken doesn’t comment. The barren fastidiousness of his study, and the lack of anything interesting to look at, makes the Worm Pit look inviting. Even the morning sunlight looks pale and tired here.

Zouken tries another tack. “You really want to learn the Tohsaka’s Magecraft? Your loyalty to those who abandoned you is more wretched than admirable.”

“…I want to try. No more worms, Grandfather.”

“And what will you do if I force you?” The very idea seems to amuse him. “If I hold you down and let the worms ravage your useless flesh?”

Sakura takes a chance. She bares her small white teeth. “I’ll eat them.”

Her words only cause him more amusement—but amusement is something an old, old shell like Zouken Matou doesn’t have in abundance. I saw the way you watched me struggle, that first day. I heard you laugh. You enjoy watching people lose, so…

He stops laughing, shaking his prune-head slowly. “Perhaps the Grail has lost sight of what makes a worthy Master. Well, if you won’t learn from my worms, you’ll learn by yourself. Your survival is not my concern.”

His study is eerily quiet at his words, as though waiting her response.

Sakura turns away from Zouken’s wrinkled prune-head and toward the sunny window. “That’s fair.”

“It’s the best offer I can give you. Speaking of which, this is the perfect time to make a little deal with you.” He looks at her like a snake sizing up a mouse. “A deal for your freedom, that is.”

She can’t resist. “What kind of deal?”

“Oh, we’ll make it simple for a simple girl like you. If you can survive to the final stretch of the Grail War, and somehow gain the Grail, I’ll free you from your…rooming here. You can go back to the Tohsakas, run away with Kariya, whatever.”

It’s too easy. “…And if I lose?”

Zouken wheezes in amusement. “You’ll be dead, girl. Ah, but you mean if you come crawling back here, having given up?” His eyes narrow into pleased slits. “The worms will be waiting for you. And this time, they’ll feast.”

Sakura fights off the cold fear trying to squirm through her stomach. She gets the feeling he won’t make this offer again, false though it may be.

“I—I’ll take it.”

He holds out a gnarled hand, and they shake on it. His skin is like hard wood that’s rotting from the inside, and she can’t wait to let go.

“Thank you for your kindness, Grandfather.”

Zouken grunts and turns away—a clear sign of dismissal. “Use this year well. It may be your last.”

Sakura doesn’t bother replying. She marches out of the study, breathing a little easier despite the niggling doubts Zouken planted in her head. I’ll just have to prove him wrong. I just need to summon a strong Servant, that’s all.

She’s not sure if her thoughts are correct, but they let her mind grow calm and focused. Something about knowing Zouken isn’t aiming for her to live puts her more at ease.

Kariya’s been waiting for her outside. He’s leaning against the cream-colored wall like a delinquent, with one foot tapping nervously. When he sees her, his expression shifts from boredom to concern.

“It’s okay, Uncle Kariya,” she says. “No more worms.”

Kariya’s relieved smile is contagious.

---

She has a year to learn, and a year to fail.

To a certain degree, her days don’t change: she’s still spending most of her time in one room, often only remembering to eat when prompted by Kariya. But now, she’s no longer waiting numbly in the damp, cold dark. Now her fingers run across dry, warm pages, and her eyes sting from reading too much. She knows what she prefers.

Kariya winds up working as her secret agent, sneaking tiny gems or rocks from outside, whether from the Matou grounds or a hobby store. (The grounds are better, but far more risky. Sakura doesn’t like to think of her uncle risking pain—or worse—for her.)

“It’s alright, Sakura,” Kariya says. He presses some smooth stones into her hands, dirt under his fingernails and grass stains smeared on his knees. “I promised I’d do anything to protect you, remember?”

Sakura curls her small fingers around his hand and squeezes. “You promised to stay safe, too, Uncle Kariya.” She tries to sound like her mother, gentle and protective.

Kariya’s lips twitch in a smile. “I guess you’re right. I’ll be more careful.”

There’s no one else about, so she lets her relief show.

Unfortunately, none of the gems or stones work for what she has in mind. She tries as hard as she can; she focuses her mind and body, triple-checks that she’s channeling her energy at the best time of day (or night), but still the gems remain dull and empty.

I can’t give up, she thinks sternly to herself, as Kariya drops the useless stones one by one into the library window boxes, full of wilted flowers and crusty soil. I just need to look harder. All I need is one gem…

---

An answer comes to her suddenly, in the middle of the night.

Sakura finds herself unable to sleep. She paces from one end of her tiny bedroom to the next, watching her shadow shudder in the light of the moon. When the moon is full, it looks like a pearl. She smiles wistfully. If I had something like that…even a small one…

She remembers how her father would give her mother bracelets and anklets out of her birthstone, the sapphire. The sapphire protects the wearer and their loved ones, and makes for an excellent defense spell. It was all very practical.

But what Sakura remembers so clearly is the way the jewelry passed from one hand to another, and the gentle reverence her father had both for the gems and for his wife. He gave Mother his work, to show his love.

She looks to her pink rolling suitcase, half-hidden beneath her bed, and has a desperate idea. Mother and Father packed it for me…

She drags her suitcase into the moonlight with sweaty palms, and after tugging and fiddling with the plastic zipper she finally unzips it. The rasp of the zipper seems louder than usual, and she stays still and listens for any spies. No, just me. She sighs in relief.

She rummages beneath her carefully folded clothes (they smell like hyacinths, her mother’s favorite), digs through their pockets, runs her fingers over the mesh-covered pocket inside the suitcase’s top…and finds nothing.

She’s about to give up when she tries the small blue pouch that carries her ribbons. She tips the pouch over and watches scraps of silk flutter onto her folded clothes—followed by two smooth bloodstones and a ring.

Sakura lets out a soft cry and picks up the ring first, peering at it in the pale light. Two tiny bloodstones flank a slightly larger aquamarine on either side, the silver of the ring itself complimenting it well. It fits her finger perfectly.

She sees a piece of paper among the ribbons, the edges torn like old parchment—which it probably is. The gliding handwriting is clearly her mother’s, and reads: “Gib mir Licht.” Give me light. With Love, the Tohsaka family.

She looks at the ring, bright and innocuous around her bony finger. “Gib mir Licht?” she murmurs, feeling the tingling sensation of Magecraft move through her veins.

The gems glow warm against her skin, and the darkness and moonlight around her are overwhelmed with bright blue light. Only her Command Seals can match its beauty.

It’s simple Magecraft, something meant more for a child in an unfamiliar room at night than a Master. And yet, here is this ring, hers and hers alone, waiting to be used.

She remembers Tokiomi telling her about a ring like this that he used as a boy. You and Rin are far braver than I was at your age, Sakura, he often said, before tucking them into bed. To be braver than him seemed impossible, but those words were always sincere.

Maybe she could be braver than him after all.

“Thank you,” she whispers to the silence, the light she’s been given surpassing the moon itself in much-needed comfort.

She picks up the two bloodstones and runs her fingers gently over them. She can feel the familiar warmth of old Magecraft deep inside them, and knows she’ll have to use them carefully. Maybe I’ll use them for the summoning ritual. It wouldn’t be a waste, but still…

She shakes her head and puts the stones and her ribbons back in their pouch. It’s too late at night to think things through. Planning will have to wait.

As she crawls back under the covers, her heart thrums with the knowledge that she isn’t quite as cut off from the Tohsakas as Zouken thinks.

But as she drifts off to sleep, another worry enters her mind:

What if I’m only strong enough to summon my Servant? And what if I do it wrong?

Sakura tries to shove the fear away from her mind, but it’s impossible. Her dreams are filled with empty Summoning Circles, and the worms closing in.

---

A year passes. Her mind is full of knowledge she didn’t expect to learn yet, and her body is weaker than before, due to her Mage Circuits being stretched past their usual limits.

Kariya has stayed by her side all this time, as if afraid to leave her. She doesn’t mind his company, but she does mind the brief glimpses of guilt she catches when he thinks she isn’t looking.

The day the Heroic Spirits are to be summoned, Kariya catches her by the waist before she tumbles down the main stairs. The seemingly endless steps wobble and sway before her tired eyes.

“You stayed up again, and now you’re up and about before dawn.” His words tread close to rebuke. “Sakura, you’re playing into Zouken’s hands.”

“…I know.” She shakes her head slowly and grabs the huge railing. “But I don’t want to mess up.”

“You won’t. You’ve worked so hard, why would you fail now?”

“Because Grandfather wants me to fail.” She marches down the rest of the way, knowing Kariya will keep up even if she runs.

Zouken told her the anointed time and place for the summoning the night before: the Worm Pit, at twelve o’clock pm precisely. The reasoning is obvious: he wants her tired and afraid. He’s quite willing to let her be devoured, be it by her own Mage Circuits or his worms. 

She refuses to give him that luxury. She’s doing the ritual now.

Kariya treads softly behind her as they sneak warily toward the Worm Pit. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, for what feels like the umpteenth time.

“It’s okay. You’re right, Uncle Kariya. I’ve practiced and practiced, and I know all the words. I’m going to prove I can do this ritual myself.”

Kariya lets out a sad, soft laugh. “You really do sound like Rin sometimes.”

Sakura’s dragging feet gain a little bounce in their step. “Thanks, Uncle Kariya.”

When they reach the door to the Worm Pit, Sakura finds herself unable to open it on her own. The silver handle alone is huge and cold, and on tiptoe she can barely reach. It takes all of Kariya’s strength to shove the door open, and they both freeze in fear at the loud, echoing creak that follows.

By some miracle, there is no reply—no thudding cane, no crackling wheeze, and no Zouken.

Creeping inside, they shut the door behind them.

Sakura rests her hand against the cold, damp wall for support and begins her descent. Already, she can hear the languid slithering of the worms below. She fights back a shudder and remembers the ring on her finger. I’m part of a creepy fairy tale in a dark cave, a monster ahead and a friend behind me. And I have a magic gift to keep me safe.

With every step, she reminds herself of half-remembered stories told on cold rainy days. Stories of men cursed with wolf’s teeth, or girls whose severed heads were held in place with a single black ribbon. The girl told her friend “You must never untie this ribbon, no matter what…”

She reaches the bottom of the stairs, and feels her legs begin to buckle. So many…did I not notice them before?

The worms, gray-green and fat, lie atop and below each other, packed together like junk in a landfill. Some of them are crawling up the far walls, only to tumble back down and get engulfed by their brethren. The most unnerving thing about them is the quiet. Before, they seemed to Sakura to make a kind of chirping cry, or the click and clack of mandibles. Now, they’re as silent as predators awaiting their prey.

Forcibly, she turns her head away from them and searches for the Summoning Circle. It can’t be too far from here, Grandfather wouldn’t dare walk through those worms…right?

“Sakura,” Kariya whispers from a few steps above her, pointing down at the non-worm infested part of the pit. “Look, beside the stairs.”

“I see it,” she whispers back, her throat already hoarse. Oh, why didn’t I bring some water? Father would’ve thought things through…

But Tokiomi Tohsaka hasn’t had to deal with worms trying to eat him, so Sakura shoves her fretting aside and walks over to the Summoning Circle.

“Be careful,” Kariya says—judging from the slight tap of his feet on stone, he jumped down. “It may be rigged.”

“…Maybe,” she replies, but she doubts it. 

The Circle looks just as the books said, huge and ornate, with night-black ink and perfect details, down to the runes. What books didn’t prepare her for is the beauty of it, even in this sickly light. She can barely take it in, not just because of the size, but because of the artistry.

And there’s her relic from the Mage Association, right in the center, still in its black box. Careful not to mess with any runes, Kariya lifts up the lid for her with his grownup arms and hurries back to her side, worry clear on his face.

“…This is too easy,” Kariya says, his words stiff with tension.

“I know. He’s testing me again.” Sakura clenches her fists. “I don’t care. Let’s start.”

“Wait…what about the blood?”

She fumbles in her dress pockets for the vial she snuck out of the kitchen. “This is pig’s blood. It should work.” It looks black in the dim light.

Kariya looks relieved and voices no more worries.

Sakura uncaps the vial and walks around the circle, carefully pouring out the blood at various points. The words of the ritual pour clearly out of her, from stating her ancestor’s name to opening the door to this world. Thankfully, the bloodstones in her pocket remain unused.

“Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill,” she chants, her heart beginning to race. “Repeat five times. Once filled, destroy…”

She still has no idea if the destruction is literal or not, but once she’s back where she started, she realizes it doesn’t matter: white light is slowly replacing the black ink. Everything’s ready.

She takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call and obey my will and reason, then answer me…”

Behind her, she hears Kariya cry out a warning, and she’s forced to speed things up. Please don’t let it be the worms, please please please…!

“I hereby swear, that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all evil in this world.” The words fill her with courage, bolstered by the ruby-red glow of the circle.

There’s a rumbling noise behind her, huge and wet sounding, and without looking down she can feel worms crawling up her legs, biting her skin. Her eyes mist over with pained tears.

Kariya’s trying to help, pulling them off with unsteady hands. She stomps on the worms at her feet, but they keep coming.

Her concentration’s slipping—

“Y-You seven heavens, clad in the three great words of power—”

She’s forced to sink her teeth into a thick black bug trying to shove its way into her throat. It hisses as it dies. Bitter goop and blood coats her mouth, making her wretch.

Please hurry…

“You can do it, Sakura!” Kariya cries, shielding her as best he can with his body.

Using all her strength, her voice bursts from the depths of her body, bounding and rebounding off the walls:

“Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

White sparks fly, followed by an explosion of mist. She feels the worms get blown backward with the force of it, and Kariya’s arms curl protectively around her.

She squints at the mist, her pulse drumming in her ears. 

The mist recedes slightly, revealing a tall man in silver armor. No, not silver, gold. Even in this dismal place, there’s brilliance to the metal (and the man, even his hair is gold) that can’t be dampened. His earrings clink as he turns to look at her with eyes the color of her Command Seals.

“I ask of you,” he says in a voice smooth and sure, “are you worthy to be my Master?”

I did it! Hysterical giggles threaten to burst out of her.

Sakura untangles herself from Kariya’s embrace and steps forward, unsure of what to say. “I…I want to be.” Her voice rasps, and her throat hurts.

The golden Servant looks at her for a moment, then at Kariya, as though uncomprehending. His shoulders tremble. Then his head tips back and unrestrained laughter comes forth. It’s both comforting and scary, and Sakura resists the urge to hide behind Kariya.

His laughter stops as quickly as it started. He looks at Sakura with cool amusement. “Honesty is a rare thing from a Mage. Humility even more so.”

“…Thank you?” Sakura feels very tired.

“And to have summoned me, let alone at your puny age, well…one could call that a miracle.” His armor clanks as he strides out of the circle toward her. “What might your name be, little one?”

“I-It’s Sakura,” she says, feeling ever weaker. “Sakura M—Tohsaka.”

“I see. It suits you, so very gentle and delicate. My Servant class is Archer, but I would prefer Your Highness.”

…Uh-oh. “Then you’re a King, Your Highness?”

“Indeed. The King of Heroes, in fact.” His tone suggests he’s handed her a gift, and she treats it as such.

“…Thanks for answering my call, Your…” Her eyes flutter shut before she can say any more.

Chapter Text

Gilgamesh doesn’t give the hovel he’s found himself in a second glance. His relic, on the other hand, he places inside his treasury. It’s heartening to see my Code of Law still holds some value in this strange era…

He scoops up his little Master and the man so determined to protect her and drapes both over his shoulders like sacks of wheat.

“Hey, what the hell?” the man yells as Gilgamesh begins to teleport.

“Compose yourself, mongrel. Or do you want me to leave you behind to be devoured?”

“Of course not. But where’re we going?” 

Golden flecks begin to swirl around them, casting the vile creatures crawling underfoot in pleasant lighting they don’t deserve. Gilgamesh can feel the Sakura girl’s ribs beneath his gauntleted fingers, and her protector here fares no better. I suppose I’ll have to remedy that.

The golden flecks consume them, and only crushed worms and fragments of a dress remain behind.

Gilgamesh settles on an empty park—the terrain there is flat, the air clean enough, and filled with the soothing sound of birdsong.

The gold flecks announce his arrival, and vanish. It’s a miracle he was able to get here, as fragile as his current state is. He deposits the man and lets him hold Sakura, noting how gently she’s cradled.

“Are you her father?” he asks casually, not expecting an intriguing answer.

“No, I’m…Matou Kariya, her honorary uncle.” Kariya’s lips twitch in a nervous smile. “Though I guess you could call me her adoptive uncle too. But I’d rather not. My family is…rough.”

Gilgamesh notes the tightness of Kariya’s jaw, the way he pulls Sakura close to his chest, and says nothing. Clearly we left not a moment too soon. At least the girl had some form of protection, however feeble. 

Kariya looks down and recoils at the naked, bruised skin of his not-niece. “Damn, there are still worms on her…we’ve got to get them off.”

Gilgamesh sniffs and cocks his head to one side. “Most humans would find the very thought of a non-family member so much as looking at a naked child revolting.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a Heroic Spirit. Heroes don’t molest kids.” Kariya carefully lays Sakura on a nearby bench, a plastic roof overhead shielding her from the cold wind. “And without her around, you wouldn’t be able to exist in this world, right?”

“Mm. I suppose not.” Gilgamesh decides not to inform Kariya that his phrasing sounds more like an entrapment than an act of free will. “Very well, I shall deign to assist…though in my current state it may be difficult to do so.”

“You’ll get your mana,” Kariya says wearily, and begins his work.

Thankfully, there aren’t that many worms on Sakura’s person. For awhile, neither party speaks, too concerned with prying the eagerly burrowing vermin off their charge and crushing them under their heels. Bruises, bite marks and drying slime decorate Sakura’s tiny body like a grotesque parody of clothing. The worms between Gilgamesh’s fingers squirm and stretch, desperate for purchase, but they soon find themselves on the dirt where they belong, before his golden heel descends like a judge’s gavel.

“Tell me, who is it that controls these worms?”

“Matou Zouken.” Kariya’s voice seethes with hate. “He stole Sakura from her true family. He’s a thief, an abuser—”

“—I shall be the judge of that. Does this Zouken have the means to hunt us down?” 

“Maybe. But I doubt it.” Kariya stomps the cluster of worms on the ground with gritted teeth. “He’s counting on us crawling back, begging for forgiveness.”

“Oh? I see. He is unaccustomed to losing in his old age, and treats those supposedly under his protection like chattel. How positively…boring.”

“Boring, huh? I’d hate to see what kind of monster would qualify as ‘interesting’ to you.” Kariya shakes his head as he looks at Sakura’s sleeping form. “Look at her…what Holy Relic would draft a little girl into a battle between Mages?”

“‘What Holy Relic’, indeed.” Gilgamesh activates the Gate of Babylon, and a simple white dress floats into his hands. “Due to the state of her clothing, this will have to do for now. We need a place of refuge, somewhere fit for the Mage who summoned me—and safe from these foul creatures.”

Kariya’s brows furrow in thought. “I’ve got a place in mind, I’ve used it before. But before that…we need to talk about battle strategy.”

“Of what sort? Neither of you are suited for combat. Clearly it should be I, and I alone, who prepares our strategy.” He looks down his nose at Kariya. “After all, it is I who shall be risking my treasury for the sake of this Grail.”

“But…ugh, fine. Whatever. So long as Sakura is safe.”

“And not you? I must say I’m shocked.” But not that shocked. Gilgamesh’s earrings sway as he leans forward a little to focus on Kariya. “I have—unfortunately—known many Mages and their families. Such protectiveness is quite rare. Well…to a point.”

“And speaking of points, it sounds like you have one. Care to elaborate?”

Ah, I see I struck a nerve. You, at least, will be mildly amusing.

“Impulsivity, alas, is a common ailment among your kind, Mage and human alike. But I suppose I might as well. It concerns the Mana Transfer.” He wags a finger chidingly before Kariya can protest. “Ah-ah-ah, I know where your simple mind just went. I assure you I have no intention of embracing someone so young, and blind to such joys.”

“I didn’t even consider it,” Kariya says, his reddening ears claiming otherwise. “So you want to use me instead, is that it?”

“You make it sound so vulgar. Do you expect me to ‘use’ you while Sakura watches? That is out of the question.”

Kariya looks relieved. “So we’d do the transfer when she’s asleep?”

“If such desperate times arrived, yes. There are other Mana Transfer methods that Sakura can utilize without causing harm to her person, you know.” 

“I know. She’s not the only one who’s been studying all this time.” A look of suspicion crosses Kariya’s face. “…Which Mana Transfer method were you going to use with me, anyway?”

Gilgamesh makes a drawn-out thoughtful hum, amused that it took him this long to clue in. “Well, while sexual congress would be enjoyable, it would, alas, take more time than we have. So…instead of your seed, you shall offer your blood to me.”

Kariya unconsciously rubs at his neck, looking both relieved yet uneasy all at once. “Just don’t drain me, or get blood on Sakura.”

“Naturally. Now, then”—Gilgamesh rises and moves to stand in front of his willing offering—“to business.”

“…Alright.” Kariya holds out his hand, his gaze unwavering. “For Sakura.”

“Good man,” Gilgamesh purrs, and curls his fingers around Kariya’s wrist. His gauntlets and wavering existence muffle the racing pulse beneath the pale flesh, but he’ll feel it soon enough.

Kariya doesn’t seem to know where to look as he mutters the incantation and Gilgamesh raises his offering to his lips.

The metallic tang and underlying sweet spark of Mage blood sits warm and heady on his tongue. The chill of the morning cools his face, and he can feel the dew-soaked grass beneath his feet even through his armor. The oldest King is part of his world once more.

Through it all, Sakura sleeps.

---

The location Kariya had in mind for their base turns out to be “the finest hotel in Fuyuki”, according to both him and the pleasingly ostentatious sign at the entrance.

Gilgamesh—now reluctantly out of his armor and wearing his white shirt and snakeskin trousers—is unsure of the hotel’s legitimacy. Oh, the lily-white walls and pastoral paintings encased in gold are vaguely interesting. The lobby’s sofas are a pleasant red and plush enough to lounge in. The reservation desk is carved of smooth, dark cherry wood that glides across Gilgamesh’s fingers like silk, with not a speck of dust. The unmarred bronze room key is just as smooth, the numbers 120 carved carefully into the bow.

And yet, despite all the fripperies and the ease in which Kariya moves about the place, Gilgamesh finds this so-called “finest hotel” rather lacking; Lackluster, in fact. He sighs. But I suppose it will have to do. No doubt Sakura will find this place a welcome change from the hellhole she was in previously.

Sakura is being cradled in Kariya’s arms again, softly cooed over by many a mongrel as they take the elevator to their new living quarters. By some miracle, the young girl doesn’t waken from her slumber. Her peaceful sighs only make those watching her cluck even more.

Kariya gives a carefully worded explanation that Gilgamesh doesn’t bother to listen to. There is nothing to explain. I am a King heading to my current apartments with a mongrel and young Master in tow.

The elevator is far more interesting than anything else he’s seen so far. It’s a box of paneled wood, with gold tube-shaped handles, and red carpeting—which isn’t the intriguing thing. No, to him the most intriguing aspect is the “floor panel”, made of gold and ivory with numbers 1 and 20 laid out upon it. But where are numbers four and nine? Is it some kind of superstition? Such nonsense…

He watches the other mongrels disembark on various numbers, until at last they reach their floor. A couple who hadn’t made such a fuss over Sakura leave before them, the gray-haired man whispering to his wife that he suspects Gilgamesh and Kariya to be in an illicit relationship.

Gilgamesh smirks as the steel doors close behind them. It appears few things change. Gossip remains a cheap source of entertainment to those with too little excitement in their lives.

Room 120 is nestled within a long, unchanging row of other identical doors down a creamy-yellow hallway. The oak door barely makes a sound once Kariya unlocks it. He begins turning on the lights, while Gilgamesh surveys their new quarters.

“The bed, at least, is worthy of me,” he announces, looking over the spacious bed that could be mistaken for an island of linen. “Though it could use more pillows.”

So saying, he opens the Gate of Babylon and a dozen pillows drop onto the bed with a fwump. Sakura stirs in her sleep, her brows furrowed as though troubled by either the noise or her dreams.

“She’s probably going to be out for awhile,” Kariya says softly, placing Sakura gently on the bed. “I guess I’ll watch over her. What about you, Archer?”

“I will think of something. But first, I have a question.” Gilgamesh nestles himself comfortably into one of the nearby chairs, ankles crossed. “As this Holy Grail is a treasure, and thus mine by right…what wish would you and Sakura bid it grant?”

“I have no idea. She was so focused on getting the summoning right, and getting out of there…I don’t know if she has a wish at all.”

“Do not avoid your King’s question, mongrel. I asked for yours as well.”

Kariya rubs a hand across his pale face, looking like he’ll fall over any moment. “Can this wait?”

“You dare refuse me?” Gilgamesh raises his voice slightly, and Sakura stirs restlessly on the bed.

“No, no, please not so loud,” Kariya whispers, pressing a frantic finger to his lips. “Right now—what I’ve always wanted is for Sakura and her family to be happy.”

“So I gathered. But, mongrel…” Gilgamesh leans forward in his seat, his gaze focused on Kariya. “To prioritize another’s happiness above your own leaves you without a shred of joy.”

“What? Of course it does! It’s simple empathy—‘my happiness is your happiness, if you’re happy, I’m happy’.”

Ah. I see. Gilgamesh smiles wryly. “Did Zouken teach you that?”

Kariya’s eyes widen. His mouth twists, as though he’s just bitten into an overripe lemon. He tries to speak, but even he knows he’s said too much already, without having spoken.  

“No doubt you wish to be alone.” Gilgamesh dons his armor once more, the sun from the large window giving him an even brighter glow. “Very well. I shall amuse myself with simple reconnaissance.”

“‘Simple’, he says…” Kariya shakes his head in exasperation. “Well then, have fun. Oh, and if you see anything interesting—”

“—I shall duly inform you,” Gilgamesh finishes. “But I doubt I will find much to intrigue me.”

As he leaves in spirit form, he notices Sakura snuggling into the pillows he left with a small smile.

---

Fuyuki City is not Uruk. It has neither the prestige nor the majesty to possibly compare. The metalwork, at least, is just as carefully constructed as Uruk’s brick walls.

In spirit form, he travels from the big red bridge to the outskirts of town, finding the only entertainment to be a group of children playing a ball game near the bridge. He watches their petty arguments and lightning-fast apologies repeat in an endless cycle until night falls, and the children run along home. With nothing else to do, he decides to return to his Master.

He makes it halfway to the hotel when he is distracted by Assassin.

It has to be Assassin—no one else would be foolishly sneaking toward a Mage’s home at this hour. The ragged cloth around his legs flaps like bat’s wings as he rushes forward. With his dark clothes and stark white skull mask, he looks like something out of a nightmare. Or a poorly-funded performance of one of those revenge tragedies…

Still in spirit form, Gilgamesh keeps his distance and lets the cowardly snake slither his way toward his destination—a mansion within walking distance of the Matou’s.

While Assassin aims for the front yard, Gilgamesh settles for a nearby tree. He can see perfectly fine from there. 

Now here is a place for my Master. Gilgamesh casually takes in the immaculate garden, wrought-iron gate, and well-crafted security system of gem spells—until Assassin cheats the system with a few well-aimed pebbles. Hm. Perhaps not.

He watches Assassin twist and curl and generally outmaneuver the security system at every turn. With each elegant dodge (reluctant as he is to deem them so), Gilgamesh finds himself increasingly on edge. Can this fool not see? This is far too simple a—

Assassin reaches the center of the front lawn. A thundering, bestial roar resounds through the area.

Gilgamesh focuses his vision just in time to see a cloud of oily smoke appear from behind Assassin. The smoke becomes a black knight whose claw-like gauntlets clutch at Assassin’s neck and twist.

Assassin barely has time to react. His body slumps just as the knight begins tearing it asunder.

Too far away to hear, Gilgamesh fills in the crunches and snaps for himself. Such a rabid cur as this can only be Berserker. Disgusting. Below him, the once immaculate lawn is stained arterial red and utterly defiled. Whoever Assassin belonged to no doubt regrets his decision.

From inside the mansion, Gilgamesh can hear a hoarse, strangled sound, like a man suddenly racked with pain. A light flickers.

I wonder if this qualifies as “interesting” for Kariya? Gilgamesh wonders as he leaves the gruesome scene. Sakura will need to hear the softer version of events, no doubt. Regardless, one mongrel is out of the way…

Chapter Text

Sakura wakes up on a soft white bed covered with downy pillows. It takes all of her willpower not to fall back asleep.

“Where am I?” she asks, as she struggles to sit up. “Uncle Kariya?”

“Your Uncle is preparing a bath for you. A proper one this time, not the quick cleaning he gave you when we first arrived here. As for where we are, well…the mongrels at the front desk claimed that this is the finest hotel establishment in Fuyuki.” A disdainful sniff follows. “We shall see, I suppose.”

Sakura turns her head to see Archer standing on the balcony, the breeze from the open glass doors causing the pastel yellow curtains to sway and swirl.

“Um, Your Highness…you didn’t wear your armor when you and Uncle Kariya got this room, did you?”

“Alas, no. Your Uncle thought it would cause too much disturbance. But as always, a hefty sum persuaded the mongrels in the lobby to hold their tongue. Speaking of clothes, I’m afraid your old dress is ruined. Those vile…creatures tore it to ribbons trying to get at your flesh.”

Sakura immediately looks down to check if she’s clothed. She sighs in relief at the white bathrobe she finds herself nearly swimming in.

“That’s okay. The dress wasn’t mine anyway.” She lifts up her arms and laughs as the fluffy sleeves extend far past her fingertips. “Even if it’s big, this is much comfier.”

“Good. Incidentally, you slept for a day and a half. In that time, I have gathered my thoughts about this era I find myself in.”

“Oh? What do you think so far? I-Is there anything I can show you?” She thinks of showing this King the city park, or the restaurants, and feels more awake than she has for a long time.

“To put it simply…this era is unbearably ugly.”

“Wh—ugly?” Sakura feels duty-bound to defend her era’s honor. “But we have candy, and books, and running water! And firefighters, and policemen, and radio…”

She finds herself rattling off anything she can think of that could impress a Heroic Spirit. She stumbles over her words, but keeps going regardless.

“…Oh, yes, and we have parks with nice playgrounds and pretty flowers, and zoos with every animal ever, and…” 

Archer blinks in confusion and annoyance at first, but soon his expression shifts into amused condescension.

Naturally, that only spurs Sakura onward, until she’s run out of amazing 20^th century things and breath. She flops back onto the pillows and inhales and exhales deeply.

“Well done,” Archer says, clapping politely with a smirk on his face. “Clearly I should have said my verdict earlier. Your affection for this era is quite admirable…if misplaced. But you are young, and the enthusiasm of youth is always entertaining.”

Sakura gives him her best scowl, but of course that only makes him chuckle.

“However, your current breathless state could have been avoided if you let me finish. This era may be ugly…but that is acceptable in its own way.”

This is an unexpected addition. “Really? Why? Ah, I mean Your—”

He lazily holds up a gauntleted palm. “As endearing as it is to hear you give me proper respect, I have decided that such formalities are unnecessary. Indeed, redundant, given the sense of wonder you show at my very existence. For ease of communication on and off the battlefield, I’ve deigned to let you call me Archer.”

“Okay. Thank you, Archer.” Sakura hopes he won’t change his mind again.

“Mm. Now, to answer your question as to why this era’s ugliness is acceptable—”

Kariya’s head pokes out of the bathroom’s doorway. “Uh, hey, not to interrupt—Sakura’s bath is ready.”

She feels a little disappointed. “I’ll be right there!” She climbs out of bed and shuffles over to the bath, aware that Archer is following her on much longer legs.

“A proper bath will do you good. That hovel’s stench of worm-riddled misery still clings to you.” He chuckles as she sniffs at her arms. “No, not literally. Think of it as…an aura rather than a smell.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.” Sakura is forced to scoop up the hem of the robe to avoid tripping. “What’re you going to do while I’m bathing, Archer?”

“Ah, good question.” Archer rubs his chin thoughtfully and stares down at her. “But first, I have a question for you, Sakura. If you could wear anything your heart desired, what would it be? Your uncle bought you undergarments already, so fear not about that.”

She isn’t sure how to answer. She bunches the fluffy hem under her chin and thinks of all the picture books and fairy tales she’s ever read, and the clothing stores in Fuyuki. Thankfully, Archer is patient.

Finally, she decides on what she wants. “Um, well…it’d have to be something not too fancy, right? So, jumpers would be nice, and warm shirts—red, blue and purple, please. Oh, and comfy sneakers.”

Archer’s gaze grows unfocused for a moment before snapping back to normal—at least, what she thinks is normal for him. “That will suffice. But I do need your measurements.”

Kariya, having bought clothes for her before, rattles them off without delay, and Sakura can get on with her bath. The door shuts behind her, and she wiggles out of the bathrobe, eager to get clean.

She peers over the rim of the tub and smiles at the bubble-filled water and two rubber ducks waiting for her. Her smile falters as she remembers when Tokiomi or Aoi would help her into the tub and keep soap out of her eyes. Last time, they both played with me and Rin, even though Father’s so busy.

Her chest feels funny when she thinks about it, but she still misses those moments.

“…Is something wrong, Sakura?” Kariya asks, his shadow comfortingly over her.

“It’s just—Father or Mother used to play with me in the bath. They used to call me a mermaid princess.” Sakura shakes her head and laughs like it’s nothing. It hurts her throat. “But—but you don’t have to call me that, Uncle Kariya. I’m a Master now, right?”

“But you want me to help you in, right?”

Sakura nods and lifts up her arms, carefully ignoring how bony they look and the slowly fading bruises that decorate her skin. 

Kariya lifts her up, saying “Here comes the mermaid Master!” before setting her gently into the warm water.

She lets out a little gasp and looks at him through a curtain of hair. She tries to say thank you, but a smile is all she can manage.

“It’s nothing. Now, close your eyes—I’m going to wash your hair first, then your back, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

The water feels wonderful, smoothing out stiff muscles, getting rid of the crust in her eyes, and clearing away the sleep-oil from her skin. Kariya talks softly throughout about some of the places he visited on his trip (the Paris catacombs sound the most fun), and when she tells him she can clean everything else he treats it seriously.

When she’s done (she still wants to soak a little more, but the water’s getting cold) Kariya helps her back out. She pulls on her underwear while her uncle politely turns his back.

“Do they fit right?”

“Uh-huh. I like the sparkly ghosts. Are they all like this?”

“I think so.” Kariya chuckles. “I’m glad you like them. It was a little embarrassing, wandering through the underwear isle. I felt like some kind of leper!”

“What’s that?”

“Er, haha, nothing, nothing!” Sakura pouts. I’ll ask Archer later.

The bathroom door opens and Archer’s hand pokes in, holding fresh clothes and dropping them into Kariya’s arms. “I hope these are acceptable, as otherwise I have squandered both time and resources for your sake.”

“How’d you do that?” Kariya and Sakura ask, looking at the jean jumper with flower-shaped buttons and a warm red shirt.

“I am a King,” Archer says with cryptic amusement, and shuts the door.

Now dressed (“These clothes are so comfy, thanks Archer!”), Sakura exits the bathroom and gets a better look at their new base. The only word she can think of to describe this hotel room is big. The three “twin” beds are each big enough for a family to sleep in, the green couch likewise, the cherry-wood desk could hold all of her picture books and coloring books back home, the leather sofa makes her feel even tinier than usual, and the minibar is stocked full of drinks she’s seen or had before, along with some drinks that make her feel grown-up just looking at them.

“Is there anything of interest?” Archer asks, standing beside her. “I normally use only my personal cellar to quench my thirst, but I believe you mentioned a drink or two in your little tirade earlier. Enlighten me.”

“Umm…” Sakura feels a little overwhelmed by the task before her. “Let’s see…”

“You needn’t rush; a fine drink is not quickly found.”

Kariya makes a disgusted noise from the sofa. “It’s too early in the morning to be philosophical!”

Archer tosses a can of iced coffee in his direction. “Drink your beastly morning liquid, then.”

Sakura ignores their grumbling and runs her hands over the cool plastic and glass bottles, her fingers carefully tracing the brand names and flavors. What would a King of Heroes drink? Nothing bitter, I guess, and not sour…it’d need to be healthy…

She settles on a bottle of strawberry flavored Calpico, not just because it’s tasty, but because the label says that “there’s nothing like it”, which sounds like something worthy of a King.

“This is good,” she says, holding the bottle up to Archer and nearly poking him in the face with it. She winces and hopes she didn’t offend him.

Apparently she didn’t. He takes the Calpico off her hands and holds it up to the sunlight incredulously, tipping the bottle slowly from side to side. Sakura takes another bottle out of the minibar and carefully unscrews it, pleased when it opens with a pop.

“It looks…solid. Are you sure this is a drink?” Archer still looks unconvinced.

“Uh-huh,” Sakura says, taking a sip of her Calpico. The tangy, sweet taste makes her smile. “It feels like forever since I’ve had some. Try it, it’s good!”

Archer looks at her, sighs, and uncaps his bottle. He takes a reluctant sip and swishes it around in his mouth. After what feels like years, he swallows. There’s a long, heavy pause. Sakura leans forward expectantly as his eyes widen.

“Isn’t it yummy?” she asks, smiling from ear to ear.

Archer makes a funny face, eyebrows scrunched together and his lips curled down in a grimace. “The children of your era must have taste buds of iron.”

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay,” Sakura says with forced cheerfulness, taking a bottle of jasmine tea out of the minibar. “Here, you can drink this!”

Archer looks at her askance for a long moment. It’s a little creepy, like she’s a puzzle he’s putting together.

“I did not say I despised this drink, Sakura. When I find something deplorable, I assure you, you will know.”

“…Oh.” Sakura puts the tea back, unsure of what else to say. “So, um…do you like it?” 

He tips his head back, taking a longer drink. He swallows and raises an eyebrow. “It tastes better after the first blush. The aftertaste is more pleasant than expected.”

Sakura takes that as a yes, and happily continues drinking. For a few moments, all is quiet bliss. This wouldn’t be a bad place to stay. Everything’s so…warm.

Archer makes a soft noise, as though he just remembered something. “Has Kariya told you about what transpired last night?”

“Nope. Why, did something happen?” Sakura’s heart begins to pound in her chest out of both excitement and worry.

“Assassin has been killed by Berserker. The Holy Grail War has now begun.” Archer speaks with the easy slowness more suited to a garden party.

“Did Assassin—did he die quickly?”

“Yes. He did not suffer. The Berserker class is too wild and stupid for torture.”

Sakura sighs in relief. “Oh—what does Berserker look like?”

“It appears to be a knight in black armor, with shadowy tendrils crawling around it—the intent appears to be to obscure its’ identity. Like all of its brethren, it appears incapable of speech, only able to roar and howl like the animal it is.”

“I see…you don’t like Berserkers much. Why?”

Archer smiles wryly. “They are a disgrace to the name ‘hero’. They cannot share their wishes or ideals, they can barely comprehend the most simple of commands, their very existence destroys their Master—who is usually in no fit state to do much themselves—and they are miserable creatures who deserve naught but destruction, to relieve them of their sad existence.”

Sakura’s heart sinks. “…It does sound sad. Why would the Grail…make something like that?”

Archer shrugs. “Perhaps, once it has returned to my treasury, you can ask it.”

Kariya speaks up. “Wait, the Holy Grail is yours?”

“Naturally. All treasures in this world belong to me. The Holy Grail is no exception. Though it may not be precisely as the legends say.”

Sakura is instantly curious. “Could you show us some of your treasures? Um, if you want to, I mean.”

“While I would like to, I would also like to save my more…admirable treasures for times of danger.” Archer raises an eyebrow. “On the other hand, a small treasure would be a fair bargain for the drink you just offered me. So, I shall allow a small request.”

“A small treasure…?” Sakura thinks of every story she can think of, trying to think of any with “small” legendary items in them. Soon enough one comes to her. “A ruby from your era, please?”

Archer chuckles softly. A tiny golden circle appears behind him, drops something small and red in his palm, and vanishes. His hand curls downward, and the ruby drops into Sakura’s waiting hands.

“Oh, it’s warm…” she says, turning the ruby this way and that. It’s raw, jagged and shines in the sun, but sadly it is empty of mana.

“What intrigues you so about that little gem?” Archer asks. “No doubt you see similar items all the time.”

“Well, I wanted to know if your gems looked the same.” Sakura is pleased with the rough texture of the ruby in her hand. “Here, you can have it back.”

The ruby vanishes in a burst of gold flecks as soon as the words leave her mouth. She tries not to jump, but she wasn’t expecting it.

“Well, now that you’re properly clothed, shall we explore the city and see if you can make this era intriguing?” Archer doesn’t wait for an answer, and heads for the door.

Sakura remembers that she can walk in the sun, unfettered for the first time in a year. She runs eagerly after him, with Kariya walking close behind.

---

The sun is warm in her hair, the air buzzes with the easy rhythm of Fuyuki early in the morning, and Kariya’s hand holds hers with the ease it always has.

Already, this is a wonderful day. (Though Archer keeps his hands by his leather-clad sides, or hidden by his arms crossed over his chest. She assumes he doesn’t like being touched and lets it go.)

They visit the open-air market first, wandering from brightly colored stall to stall without any real destination. Unlike the rest of the city, it’s quieter here, which gives Sakura time to get used to being in crowds again. The cobblestones are pretty, but easy to trip on, and Kariya saves her from face-planting more than once.

Archer buys crepes at a crepe stand at Sakura’s eager recommendation (strawberries and cream for Sakura, cinnamon and apple for Kariya, and all the toppings for Archer). It may not be a healthy breakfast, but she’s never tasted something so sweet. The strawberries are so ripe they nearly burst in her mouth when she takes a bite. Sakura finds herself torn between letting Archer buy the stand and its owners, or distracting him with a clothing sale.

Their day continues like that, with Archer practically tossing money in all directions, Kariya getting increasingly unnerved, and Sakura glowing with happiness. The market winds up being plenty of stimulation, and for awhile Sakura forgets that she’s part of a war. 

It doesn’t last.

“It’s almost sundown,” Kariya warns, when Sakura rests her head sleepily against his side. “Other Masters might be on the prowl.”

She’s vaguely aware that the market is closed, with only umbrella-covered tables and flickering streetlamps remaining.

“Indeed,” Archer says, as he watches a streetlamp glow to light. “We shall return to the hotel at once.”

Sakura’s still abuzz with energy, ignoring what tiredness she feels. “But I want to stay up!”

“Sorry, but I’m getting tired.” Kariya’s eyes droop, as if to prove his point.

She looks to Archer for support, but his response is a theatrical yawn. She has no idea if he’s being honest or trying to trick her into getting sleepy. Either option sets her teeth on edge.

She yearns to make a fuss, let her voice shriek and echo in the purple sky above. But Father and Mother would never do that—or let me do that. She pouts instead.

“What an impressive face,” Archer says with a smirk, and she edges away in case he tries to pinch her cheek. “No one will dare disturb us now—there’s a disgruntled child on the loose!”

“I’m not disgrumpled,” she says, trying to hide her feelings.

“Why do you bother trying to hide your emotions? Set your feelings free, there is no one to chastise you!”

“But you hide them, Archer,” Kariya says softly, with a surprisingly smug expression.

Archer’s gaze slides to him. “Your patience is to be applauded, mongrel. How long have you awaited such an opportunity to strike? A day? Two?”

“I don’t have your years of experience with insults, but I’m glad mine hit its mark.”

Sakura forgets all about her annoyance. “Uncle Kariya, Archer, please don’t fight!”

“Indeed!” booms a deep voice, followed by the piping of a young man: “No, shut up, what the hell are you doing?”

Sakura whips around to find a huge red-haired man—and a chariot—standing a few feet away. The man looks like the kind who offers hospitality to lost heroes and feeds them until they can’t move—or perhaps someone’s eccentric uncle, who travels to far-off places and wrestles bears. He’s burly, but obviously easygoing, and his laughter sounds like the rumble of his chariot’s wheels.

“Forgive the intrusion,” says the man, in a tone edging close to bragging. “You there, Goldie, you must be a Servant!”

“And you, Rider, must be a fool to be in my presence uninvited. What of it?” Archer’s voice is cold as his armor glows to life around him.

“You knew he was here?” Sakura whispers, and Archer nods subtly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I assumed he would be wise enough to leave,” he murmurs back, before clanking forward. “Well, Rider? What have you to say to me?”

“Well,” Rider says, his grin wide, “I figured you needed a little excitement, to liven up your evening! I was going to ask if you wished to join me in my, Iskandar the Great's, campaign of conquest, but you seem to have your hands full with your Master and his child!”

Sakura opens her mouth to protest, but Kariya scoops her up and carries her toward one of the exits. Archer doesn’t seem to mind.

“I have no need for conquest, Rider,” Archer drawls, as a golden portal opens up behind him. A snakeskin quiver and radiant bow fall into his hands. “Indeed, that you desire conquest means that you are an unfit ruler. Prepare yourself for my judgment!”

Rider’s only response is to laugh and order his chariot forward. Sakura can barely make out a wail of terror and frustration hidden by the lowing oxen and shuddering wheels. It’s almost too fast to see…I wish I could help…!

“Do your best, Archer!” Sakura yells, though she suspects her Servant won’t hear her.

To her surprise, he raises a hand in acknowledgement before grabbing an arrow, notching it, and drawing the bow in a blur of elegant motion.

When the arrow is loosed, the string thrums like thunder. The very ground shudders under Kariya’s feet, and Sakura can feel the trembling, curled, in his arms.

The arrow pierces the flesh of the right ox, but it doesn’t stumble. Archer doesn’t care. Another arrow into its side, another in its chest—now the ox lets out a groan of pain and pitches to the side. It vanishes into purple dust.

“What a shame,” Archer calls smugly. “You require two beasts to usher you forward—it would be wise to retreat and lick your wounds!”

“Ha! You have some wit in you after all.” Rider leaps out of the chariot, sword in hand. “Clearly I shouldn’t have underestimated your skills as an archer, nor the weapons at your disposal. The thrill of battle overwhelmed me. I suppose you do have a right to call me a fool!”

“I can fell you on foot in an instant.” The wondrous bow is drawn again. “Do you dare step forward, Rider?”

Rider charges forward without hesitation. Oh no, he’s fast! He’s almost within striking range in an instant. His sword shines, eager for blood.

Sakura lets out a panicked gasp. Archer’s going to—

Before she can do anything, the bow and quiver is replaced with a halberd, emerald-encrusted with a moon-shaped blade. As Archer parries Rider’s blow with an ominous clang, it’s clear she shouldn’t have worried.

“Hey, Archer’s Master!” calls a young man loping toward them from the chariot.

“Yeah, what?” Kariya asks, much to Sakura’s annoyance. “Are you as itching to fight as your Servant?”

“O-Of course I want to fight, idiot!”

At first Sakura doesn’t understand—then she sees the Command Seals on the boy’s hand. At closer inspection, he looks like somebody at home solving puzzles on rainy days, not fighting in a war. He’s a homebody hero, then. His dark hair and pale body are both stringy, and it’s obvious he’s never been in the middle of a fight like this either. Sakura smiles in relief and squirms out of Kariya’s hold.

The boy-Master halts in front of them, nearly out of breath but looking quite pleased with himself. “I can barely sense any Magic from you at all, old man. You’ll be a piece of cake to beat!” His dark-green eyes are bright with the smug promise of victory.

Never mind. He’s a bully—a big dumb bully, that’s all!

Sakura’s face burns. “You take that back! My Uncle Kariya’s not old, or weak!”

The boy-Master looks both surprised and amused, which just makes her angrier. “You’re not the boss of me, I’ll say what I want. It’s not my fault your Uncle’s—”

Sakura’s fist thuds into his belly. She can feel his breath burst out of him against her ring. He buckles over, eyes dark with anger, and prepares to say an incantation. She hits him again. His cheek swells against her knuckles. 

“Stop,” he wheezes, and “Sorry.” He stares at her Command Seals like he’s going to be sick.

She stops, her breath coming to her in choppy bursts. Kariya rests his hands on her shoulders, the cool of his skin soothing…but not that soothing.

“You were going to hurt him,” she says, more to herself than the others.

The boy-Master holds out his hand, having the grace to look abashed. “Looks like we got off on the wrong foot, huh?”

Sakura can dimly hear Rider and Archer clashing in the distance. She gestures toward them. “Our Servants don’t care. They’re fighting, we should fight too.” Her tone is calm, but her blood is rushing through her veins, making her jittery and light-headed. “It’s a fair fight—you’re not very tough either, right?”

“…No.” The word causes a deeper flush of humiliation to spread across his cheeks. “But I don’t want to fight a kid.”

“Why not?” Sakura’s vaguely aware that this isn’t how a Tohsaka should act, but she’s tired and being underestimated, so she doesn’t care. “I’m a Master too—I’ve worked hard, I summoned a Servant…”

Archer appears beside her, covered in dirt with rumpled hair. “While your tirade is warranted, Sakura, it will have to wait. Mongrel, your foolish King here has decided to call a truce for tonight. For what reason, I haven’t the faintest idea. Despite your attempts at harming my young Master, I shall let you go this once.”

The boy-Master looks relieved—a thick purple bruise is already blossoming on his cheek. “…Thanks, I think.”

Archer’s earrings clink as he stares down his nose at him. His voice is soft and cold. “But know this, mongrel: if you do make an attempt on my Master’s life—or her Uncle’s—again, your death will be swift and merciless. The same applies to your Servant. Is that clear?”

Clearly it is, as the boy-Master nods and runs back to the chariot, where Rider (looking equally worse-for-wear) awaits. Much to Sakura’s surprise, the ox she thought was dead is very much alive, harnessed and on the move. I guess this Rider is tougher than we thought.

Sakura turns her attention back to Archer, and looks him over for any wounds. With a start, she sees blood trickling down the back of his neck.

“Archer, you’re hurt!” she tries to get a closer look, but Archer carefully turns to evade her, his red cape fluttering.

“I assure you, it’s a paltry wound. I turned and Rider’s sword brushed my head.”

“Paltry or not, you’re still bleeding,” Kariya says, looking very tired. “Looks like you’ll be needing more mana.”

“Indeed.” Archer casually grabs Sakura by the back of her shirt, ignoring her squirming and complaints. “Now, we are returning to the hotel, and you, little warrior, are going to have pleasant dreams of victory.”

Sakura holds her pout even as beautiful gold flecks surround them as they leave.

Chapter Text

Gilgamesh assumes that Sakura will be too tired from yesterday’s activities to be awake when he embarks on another nightly reconnaissance. Thus, he takes his time getting ready.

He chooses the “bathroom” as his dressing place, as with the door closed no curious eyes may pry, and also because it’s similar to his dressing room in Uruk…though not in size. One day soon, Sakura will have a bathing tub large enough to swim in, and any perfumes and paraphernalia she may desire. Such a paltry basin is not worthy of her smallest toe, let alone mine.

Still, the basin has its uses—he soaks in it awhile, summoning various fragrances and oils from his Treasury one at a time as needed. It gives him great pleasure—however petty—to use those fragrances once offered to the gods. One clay bottle of myrrh oil decorated with a cow he uses more often than is strictly necessary. He places it back in his Treasury once looking at it makes his stomach clench. He doesn’t dwell on why. 

He cleans his hair and body carefully, using the heat of the bath and some skin-care oils to keep his skin and muscles smooth in form and action. He clears his mind of anything but the so-called Masters and Servants he may encounter. A more fitting term would be “thieves”. He runs through each Class and possible Heroic Spirit candidates, any and every one he can think of.

Mostly, however, he languishes, amused at how his feet touch the opposite smooth white wall without any effort. He runs his fingers along the wet planes and dips of his body, vaguely recalling those who had been blessed with the chance to gaze upon it. This era may call actions such as this “Narcissism”, but clearly they do not have my form.

He climbs out reluctantly, amused at the wrinkled state of his hands and feet—he had forgotten such mundane aspects of living.

As he anoints his body with frankincense perfume, he listens carefully for the sounds of Kariya and Sakura sleeping. Excellent, they are undisturbed.     

While he doesn’t mind donning his armor in a burst of gold, it loses some of its ceremony. As have many things these days. He could ask Kariya to assist, as is his duty—but right now Kariya is assisting Sakura in her mana offerings by sleeping like the dead. Perhaps that is for the best. A King who cannot don his own armor is a disgrace.

He suspects his one companion said something similar, perhaps in the early blush of dawn while lounging in a perfumed bath. He pushes the memory away and sits on the edge of the basin.

He puts on the dark blue under-armor manually, merely because he can, before materializing his boots and leggings one at a time. He has not grown so lazy that he doesn’t recall how it all fits together. Every piece clicks into place like a well-oiled machine. He lets his mind wander as he finishes his right leg and moves on to his left.

With the steam from the bath and the scents of frankincense and myrrh, I could be back in Uruk, preparing for another adventure. He laughs. But that is foolishness. Such a city shall not come again, especially not for one such as I.

The waist segments of his armor and the vermilion cape underneath are more difficult to fit than he remembers, but he manages. Perhaps it is the back section that is the trouble. Thankfully it is not so cumbersome in the heat of battle…

His meandering thoughts are interrupted by a gentle, shy rapping on the door. “Um, Archer? I need to pee,” pipes a sheepish little voice.

“A moment, Sakura,” he whispers, trying to keep his armor from clanking too loudly. 

He opens the door. Sakura enters, he exits. He opts not to dress in the dark, as Kariya is a light sleeper and would snap awake at even the smallest gleam of light. After a few minutes, Sakura unlocks the door, her hair rumpled and her eyes suspiciously wet at the corners.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Like any child, she shakes her head at first, before sadly mumbling an affirmative. Her small hands tremble and twist at her bedclothes, and her body shivers with cold and lingering terror.

“You may inform me of it. I could use the company while garbing.”

Sakura wipes her eyes and nods, clearly eager for something to do. “Thanks, Archer.”

He nods in return and leaves the door unlocked and partially open, more for her sake than his.

He summons the chest section of his armor, inclining his head at Sakura to speak. She folds her hands demurely in front of her, eyes downcast.

“…Well, you were in the dream. You weren’t wearing your armor, it was a pretty white and red robe, and some gold bracelets like the ones you wore yesterday. You were sitting by a pool filled with lily pads and hidden by hanging vines. It looked…peaceful.”

Gilgamesh remembers the water gardens, and it pleases him to see their beauty is unmarred by time. “Yes, I know that place in my palace. Continue.”

“Okay. Well, you weren’t alone. There was a pretty lady with you.” Sakura fiddles with her clothes again before looking up at him shyly. “But not as pretty as Mother.”

“I shall take your word for it,” he says, instead of I doubt that. “What was the ‘pretty lady’ doing, can you recall?”

“She—she told you that a wild man was coming, that he was going to eat you. But you laughed, and didn’t believe her.” Sakura looks wide-eyed at him, her expression as solemn as he’s seen it yet. “Is that…how you died, Archer?”

Gilgamesh wants to laugh, but his throat is clogged, somehow. He clears his throat and chooses his words carefully. “No, I’m afraid my death did not involve being eaten by a wild man. It was rather boring, in fact: old age, nothing more.”

Sakura giggles in relief. “That’s good.”

“Mm-hmm.” He changes position and turns his back to her. “Now, is the back of my armor properly aligned? I want to ensure my neck is protected.”

“…Uh-huh, it looks right.”

“How intriguing, though, that you witnessed a fragment of my past. That is…very strange indeed.” He senses Sakura’s unease at his words and holds up a hand. “Strange, but not bad. Indeed, it could prove useful, depending upon the circumstances. You obviously didn’t paw through my memories on purpose, so there is no apology necessary.”

He hears Sakura sigh in relief, and turns back around. Her nose is upturned, and she’s sniffing the air curiously.

“Archer, what’s that smell? Is it lemon? Orange? Some kind of nut?” She scrunches up her nose, as though on the verge of a sneeze.

“Close. It’s frankincense and myrrh. They were the most popular scented herbs from my era.”

“Oh. Why are you wearing them?”

“Why do you use scented soap? I’m wearing these scents because they make me feel clean and content.”

“Are you…going to go fight?”

“Possibly. Likely it will be a mere excursion, nothing more. Still, I must be prepared for anything.”

Sakura cocks her head to one side. “Won’t the perfumes give you away if you’re sneaking around?”

Gilgamesh can’t help but smile. “An excellent point, but I am not Assassin. The King of Heroes does not ‘sneak around’ unless absolutely necessary.”   

Sakura smiles sleepily. She looks less rattled than she had before, and she’s already rocking unsteadily on her feet. It’s clear she’s keeping herself awake for his sake alone.

“Now, I must be on my way. Your duty while your King is absent is to have pleasant dreams. Is that understood?”

Sakura nods and murmurs “Come back safe, Archer” before stumbling off to bed.

Naturally.

---

It’s a surprisingly pleasant night for reconnaissance—the city lights are bright, but the moon is brighter, and Gilgamesh can sense that more Heroic Spirits have arrived upon the scene. Perhaps one or two will be worthy of my attention, however briefly.

He doesn’t know which presence to follow, so instead he waits for them to meet. In the meantime, he swirls through the city in Spirit Form like a soft breeze, taking in the vices Fuyuki harbors.

He watches salary-men and office ladies get drunk off inferior alcohol and vomit their woes onto polished wood or old concrete—or their fellow drunks. He watches gamblers weep over their empty bank accounts in hovels that stink of cheap cigars and stale sweat. Most pathetic, however, are the “brothels” of this era, which he avoids after one look at the finest establishment; Once, to be a prostitute was an honor, and it was a privilege to lie with one. Now, they are nothing but tools. And this pathetic chunk of a building…where are the marble floors that shine like the sun? Where are the linen sheets, the scattered flower petals?

He’s aware that he is probably to blame for this unfortunate change—the only love gods in this new world are very mortal. But this is humanity’s problem to fix. I am an Arbiter, not a repairman.

By some small mercy, he senses two Heroic Spirits have begun their battle by the harbor. He eagerly leaves the so-called “brothel” without another glance.

  The buildings and streets rush around him in a blur of dour blue-gray and luminous gold and ruby. He hones in on the pulsing mana emissions—these Heroes are younger than him, and close in era. Vaguely, he can sense the old, boisterous rumbling of that foolish Rider—he appears to be heading toward the fight too. My blood will not coat your blade this night, mongrel. Not that our truce will allow us to battle to begin with…

When he arrives at the harbor, he reluctantly dampens his presence. While normally he would announce himself with pomp and a thousand gleaming treasures, such a move would injure his Master. Instead, he views the battle raging on below in Spirit Form, atop a concrete block that hopes to be a building when it grows up.

Ah, this is a battle between Lancer and Saber. Lancer is a comely mongrel in green and black, wielding two spears, one red, one gold—the red spear is in Gilgamesh’s Treasury. Like all Lancers, he’s a nimble fellow, in body and wit.

“You have earned your Class rank well, Saber. To be on equal footing in honor and combat skill is a rare thing!” Lancer’s baritone voice rings out. He narrowly leaps out of the way of Saber’s swipe at his legs.

“You honor me, Lancer!” Saber replies in a proud, smooth alto. “I almost wish your death wasn’t necessary.”

Lancer’s red spear nearly knocks her off her feet. “I agree,” he says, his teeth bared in a feral grin worthy of a bloodhound.

Gilgamesh turns his gaze to Saber. Sakura would find you most intriguing. He memorizes the swordswoman as much for his Master’s sake as for his: her blonde braided hair in the light of the moon, the molten intensity in her green eyes visible even from a distance, the armored gown the color of lapis lazuli whirling around her like a blue flame, and…

Gilgamesh narrows his eyes. What sword hides behind that veil of Air Magic?

It frustrates him to realize that even the grip and pommel are unknowable. It should, must be impossible, but there it is: he has held every sword in creation, he knows the curve and smoothness of leather and steel, has hefted their weight a thousand times and more…but Saber’s sword stands in contradiction.

The very concept rankles him. Naturally, the only recourse is to test the Mystery Blade himself.

On the other hand, Lancer is already answering his question for him: the blade is durable, judging by how often it clangs and scrapes against his spears with only the Magic around it distorting. Also judging by the ethereal noise, the blade is of similar metal to Lancer’s gold spear—clearly not human-made.

Before Gilgamesh can analyze further, however, Rider barges in.

Lancer and Saber’s battle halts as Rider’s infernal chariot rumbles between them. Rider bellows on and on and on about conquest and joining forces, while his young Master sits understandably stunned in the backseat. I suppose Rider’s determination to win without bloodshed is admirable…but these two enjoy watching their blood and others decorate their weapons. This can only end poorly.

“What do you say then, Lancer, Saber?” Rider asks, his arms outstretched in welcome. “Would you do the honor of joining me in my world conquest?”

Saber answers first. “I am Britain’s King, and I bow to no one.”

Gilgamesh smirks in understanding, even as the idea of a King other than him rankles. What an interesting contradiction for the King of Knights…how do you reconcile that with your Servant status, I wonder?

“…Oh.” Rider sighs in disappointment. “If I let you keep Britain, would you join me?”

Saber makes a soft sound that could be a laugh. “Perhaps. You could ask after my battle with Lancer—I may be more agreeable then.”

“Hmph. I suppose that was rude of me to interrupt. Sorry.” Rider strokes his beard thoughtfully and turns to Lancer. “And what of you, Lancer?”

Before Lancer can answer (likely a “no”), an echoing voice amplified by Magecraft booms out:

“Lancer, why are you wasting my time? Kill Saber, now. There are other Servants to fight.”

The unadulterated smugness dripping from his words grates on Gilgamesh, and he immediately begins searching for the source. In fact, that voice seems familiar, somehow…

He slides through walls and piles of crates like the wind, and finds nothing. Faintly he can hear Lancer protesting, outing himself as a (honorable) knight in the process. Gilgamesh suspects the Smug Master is hiding above the action—an uncommon hiding place for a worm.

“Your ridiculous ‘honor’ is getting in the way of winning, Lancer. You swore that you would be obedient, but I see no evidence of that. Would you like me to use a Command Seal on you, to solve this problem?”

“My Lord, please, no!” There has never been a knight more distraught.

Gilgamesh floats back up aboveground. No more dallying. Much to his annoyance, the Smug Master’s mana is distorted somehow—possibly by the sheer sliminess his voice exudes. He follows the echo instead, as best he can.

Thankfully, Smug Master feels compelled to open his bile-spewing mouth again, his attention focused on Rider’s Master: “So you’re the rat who stole my relic! Waver Velvet…I should have known a fourth-rate ‘Mage’ such as you would stoop so low. The usual punishment for theft is a fine, but since you have barely a penny to your name…I believe pain will be a good teacher. You need to witness true power, boy!” 

Gilgamesh’s mind goes blank with rage. It’s clear already that this Master has no qualms with forcing his will on others to make up for his own lack of power. And now it’s equally obvious that Rider’s Master—Waver Velvet—has learned much and more about “power” from this fool.

And if Waver Velvet was willing to attack a Master weaker than him, if only for a moment…this worm will surely torture Sakura, if they meet.

The worm has the gall to continue talking. “I’ll start with your tongue first, I think…or perhaps your fingers. You did send me that drivel of a thesis to read, after all…” 

In his sadism Smug Master forgot to keep an eye out for other Heroic Spirits. It doesn’t take long for Gilgamesh to spot him. He’s hiding atop a warehouse roof, out of sight and Saber’s range. A petty sadist and a coward—what a disgusting creature.  

Gilgamesh appears before him, his armor radiant in the light of the moon. He quickly sizes up this worm who dares call himself powerful.

The first mark against this Mage is that they’re of height. The second strike is that he was the gossiping cockerel in the hotel elevator not so long ago. His blond hair is pale, thin and oily, his skin is sallow, and his blue clothes are restrictive in their attempts at ornamentation. He is the very essence of petty spite and blandness. 

“This is a strange world indeed,” Gilgamesh says, his arms folded. “The wind dares to have an opinion, and mediocrity is considered power! You have clearly been a poor teacher, lowly worm.”

Smug Master isn’t so smug anymore. His face contorts between terror and self-righteous anger—it’s an amusing sight. No doubt you wanted glory, a legend for your own. You, worm, will be but a footnote in this War.

Smug Master raises his hand, ready to summon his Servant. That hand is promptly crushed. The Command Seals are hidden by his blood.

A thought somehow enters Smug Master’s skull. “Wait a minute—I’ve seen—”

“Be silent,” Gilgamesh drawls, “or you will lose your jaw.”

“You dare to—” Smug Master’s voice cuts off with a gurgle.

“Murder is a dull business,” Gilgamesh says, his hand curled against the worm’s lower jaw. “Torture is much the same. I was considering using one of my blades on you…but your blood would sully their steel.”

He pulls down. There’s a thick snap and a screech of pain.

“…A regular blade, that is.” The Gate of Babylon opens, and an executioner’s blade awaits his touch. He takes it.

The cut is clean and sure. The death is quick.

Lancer teleports onto the roof, his face blank in shock. His Master’s head rolls down to meet him, nearly unrecognizable.

“The King of Heroes has relieved your burden, mongrel. I suggest you treasure it!”

Lancer’s orange eyes are full of conflicting emotions. His lips curl in a snarl. “My Master was no burden!”

Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow. “Lying is a struggle for you, I see. A fine quality in a knight, but not terribly useful in this situation.”

Lancer picks up the head and cradles it protectively. “This was your mistake,” he says, his voice harsh and seething. “You claim this is some kind of—favor, but you will never have my gratitude.”

Gilgamesh senses that Saber and Rider have retreated, along with their Masters. That is acceptable. This evening is becoming tiresome.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Lancer’s eyes have narrowed to slits. “You had best return to your Master. My vengeance awaits you.”

Gilgamesh smirks. “I hope you will be worthy of my interest, Lancer. Your impudence, at least, is mildly diverting.”

He teleports away, and wonders idly how Lancer plans on getting his revenge.

Chapter Text

Sakura senses that this is another memory-dream.

Archer was at a wedding, one even grander than in magazines. The world was ablaze in vibrant colors, but the ceremony itself seemed very serious. In front of Archer on the mud-brick dais, the groom poured golden perfume over his wife’s head—and somehow the bride didn’t sneeze. The couple gazed at each other the way storybook lovers do, soft-eyed and with bright smiles. The assembly clapped, the noise soft as rainfall.

Archer made a huffing noise and stood, his golden bracelets and necklaces jangling like wedding chimes. His robes were passion-red and pure white, his sandals made from the smoothest leather, and his posture befitted a King.

But his eyes bore dark circles, and were withdrawn. His smile was eerily fixed.

“Now,” Archer said, his voice booming like thunder, “I shall take my right.”

“My King,” the groom said, his fists clenched in anger. “You said you would let the first dance be ours—”

“You dare deny your King—your gracious guest—the right to change his mind?” Archer’s voice was cold and harsh, like the North wind. “I swore no oath, fool.”

The groom looked to his bride, than the hushed crowd. No one dared stand with him. When he turned back, his voice was raw. “How could you…”

The bride rested her hand on the groom’s shoulder. Archer’s posture shifted subtly.

“My King, please leave my husband be. He means no disrespect, and neither do I.” The bride’s brown eyes filled with tears. “You…you honor me,” she said, even as the words seemed to catch in her throat.

“Rise, then, and on this night be joyful by my side. Strike up the music, and we shall have a dance!”

Near the end of the hall, a group of flustered musicians began to play. Archer rolled his eyes disdainfully at the discordant music before holding out his hand—

“Stop!” cried a tenor voice, one filled with rage at injustice.

The crowds’ heads turned as one. At the end of the long, long assembly hall, resting by the door, stood a man with slightly darker skin than the others. His hair was reddish-brown like the bricks at their feet, and wild, and he wore a white dress similar to the women. He strode forward, his gnarled bare feet slapping against the stone, his jasper-green eyes ablaze.

“You dare order me?” Archer growled.

The wild man bared his sharp teeth in a wry grin. “You truly thought your power would go untested? Even the strongest lion must fight for his pride.”

As if sensing what was to come, the crowd scattered, bride and groom included. The wild man and Archer stood silently for long moment, sizing each other up.

Archer slid into a fighting stance, legs apart, shoulders hunched, fists clenched. The wild man did likewise, though his posture was looser, due to wearing less jewelry.

“You say you will remonstrate me?” Archer laughed scornfully.

“Yes,” said the wild man. “With my hands, I’ll right your arrogance.”

With that, he lunged forward—

Sakura jolts awake, her heart racing.

The smell of peppermint tea greets her, and she eagerly sits up to find a breakfast of fruit salad, yogurt, and a small pancake lathered in honey waiting to be eaten.

“There was bacon,” Kariya says, seated comfortably on the sofa, “but it was too delicious to let it go cold.”

“Then I’ll eat yours next time!” Sakura wiggles her fingers ominously.

He gasps in theatrical terror. “No, anything but that!”

Archer wanders in from the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe and bringing pleasant-smelling steam in his wake. “Ah, excellent, you’ve awoken.”

Sakura tries not to tip over her breakfast platter as she jumps out of bed. “Archer, Archer, I had a memory-dream again!”

Kariya looks concerned. “What’s a memory-dream? And what do you mean ‘again’?”

Archer and Sakura quickly fill him in, and Kariya’s concern is now combined with slight jealousy.

“Now I want to have those dreams, just to see that garden. It sounds worthy of a photo gallery…”

“A picture could never compare.” Archer reaches into the minibar and takes out a bottle of lemon tea. “A poem would be more fitting.”

“A poem could be doable…” Kariya looks sheepish. “Though I’m sure you’ve seen better rough drafts than what I—whoa, cold!”

Archer lightly nudges the chilled plastic bottle against Kariya’s neck again. “Leave criticism to the critics, mongrel. Such self-flagellation is a bad habit.”

“Everybody needs a little knowledge of their shortcomings, don’t they? And it wasn’t that ‘flagellating’, c’mon!”

 “Very well, then. Write a poem about my water gardens, and I will inspect it.”

As Archer is clearly serious, Kariya goes to the desk, grabs a notepad and pen, and gets to work with much grumbling about “weird Kings”. The weird King in question seems more amused than offended—probably because his words were heeded.

“Can I talk about the new dream now?” Sakura asks, practically jittering with anticipation.

“Certainly,” says Archer, uncapping his tea and taking a sip.

Sakura eagerly launches into her tale, trying to remember as much as she can. She watches Archer’s expression turn from mild interest to something unreadable. The response doesn’t deter her.

“…Then, just when you were going to dance with the bride, the Wild Man from the last dream showed up!”

“Oh? What did he look like?” Archer’s tone is deceptively casual, but Sakura can hear the slight strain underneath his easy words.

“Um…” She treads carefully. “He had brownish, shaggy hair, brown skin, a white dress, and gnarled feet that looked like roots. He looked like a protector of forests, who lives in trees and can talk to animals.”

“…I see. A little different than how I recall him. But then again…and what happened next?”

“You started to fight, but I woke up.”

“I see.” Archer’s expression is still eerily blank. “Well, I would consider that dream quite useless. What importance could it hold that the Grail gave it to you? There is no need to know of a man I once fought, or a dull wedding I once attended…”

Sakura has a guess, but she leaves it be and tucks in to her breakfast. The food is delicious, not overly sweet or (in the yogurt’s case) soft. The grapes pop pleasantly in her mouth, the pancake has a slight buttermilk taste offset by the honey, and the yogurt has a pleasant tang. She savors every bite, just as Aoi taught her.

Archer casually steals the last grape from her bowl and tosses it into his mouth. “Too sweet,” he says, and swallows anyway.

“Then I’ll eat some of your breakfast next time too,” Sakura vows, and sticks out her tongue.

“You’ll get sick,” Kariya says absentmindedly from the desk.

“I don’t care!”

She marches grumpily into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Archer’s quiet chuckling only annoying her more. In retaliation, she scrapes her white stepping stool across the bathroom tiles as loudly as she can. Rin used to steal my last bit of food too, until Mother scolded her… The thought makes her heart sink, and she forces herself to be grumpy again. It doesn’t last.

She clambers up onto the stool and reaches for her toothbrush, looking at her softened reflection in the fogged-up mirror. She giggles at the wild nest of her hair flopping around on her head, and moves her head side-to-side, watching her hair move with her.

“I’ll need a bath too,” she says to herself, as she squeezes out some toothpaste and begins brushing.

After she brushes her teeth, bathes and dresses, Sakura decides to explore the hotel. Archer immediately volunteers to join her, saying “Lancer has a score to settle with me from last night, and I wish to keep you from being kidnapped.”

“Shouldn’t I come too?” Kariya asks, looking concerned. “It’s not like we have any valuables here to be stolen.”

Archer shrugs. “Very well. Have you finished editing your poem to its bare bones yet?”

“Ugh, I guess. Here.” Kariya looks relieved to hand the double-sided paper over.

Archer’s eyes flick up and down across the page, smiling slightly as he reads. After a few moments, he finishes.

“…So, was it good?” Sakura and Kariya ask, with varying degrees of concern.

“It was passable. The diction is rather sloppy in the middle portions, but otherwise…”

Kariya shrugs. “Oh well. Not bad for a first try.”

“Uh-huh,” Sakura says with a smile, taking Kariya by the hand. “Come on, let’s explore!”

---

Unfortunately, their day isn’t as filled with exploring as expected—the only things of interest are the Fitness Center, Olympic-sized pool, and the many dining options. Fortunately, they’re able to amuse themselves by switching between exercising and eating.

The pool in particular is a big hit. It’s the perfect temperature—not too hot, not too cold—and the water feels pleasant lapping against Sakura’s skin. The black swimsuits are comfy and keep heat in, but she notes that Kariya went through several pairs of trunks thanks to his bony legs. When we go eat again, Uncle Kariya’s going to have triple servings at every restaurant!

The most interesting thing about their pool excursions, however, is that Archer takes to water like a merman.

“We never had this sort of entertainment in Uruk,” says Archer wonderingly, as he lazily backstrokes. His voice echoes against the white walls and sun-drenched ceiling windows. “Clearly I must invest in a pool such as this…”

Sakura doggy-paddles next to him, armed with a neon-blue swim vest and kickboard. “You couldn’t swim in the water gardens?”

“No, merely dip our feet in the water. We would disturb the fish.”

The water gardens get more amazing by the second. “What kind of fish?”

Archer chuckles. “Delicious fish, naturally.”

Sakura laughs with him, trailing off as she looks at him. This is the first time she’s seen him bare-chested, and the one thing that sticks out to her is his lack of bellybutton. Weird. Everything else looks like those guys in magazines—no, better, like a prince! But even princes have bellybuttons…at least I think so.

“Is my perfection overwhelming you?” Archer asks casually, without breaking stride.

“You’re not perfect,” Sakura says, jabbing a finger at his muscled belly. “See?”

“See what?” He cranes his neck to get a look. A second later he lays his head back in the water with a plop, his expression wry. “There is nothing wrong with my stomach—there is no fat to be seen, nor hair or other such details.”

“But there is something wrong,” Sakura whines despite herself. She points at her own belly, hidden by a one-piece. “You don’t have a bellybutton, Archer!”

“He does, Sakura,” Kariya adds, water-jogging up to them. “His muscles hide it, that’s all.”

“…Oh…” She feels very silly now, and focuses on paddling.

“Yes, I was born of a mother, just as you were,” Archer says, effortlessly keeping up with her.

“Was she gentle? And pretty?” Sakura tries to imagine Archer as a baby, and can’t quite manage it.

“She treated me with every kindness.” His voice is strange. “I was both son and King to her, and that is more than I can say for my advisors.”

He doesn’t say anymore, and Sakura suspects she shouldn’t ask about his mother again.

---

 When Sakura, Kariya and Archer return to their room, they are full of food and chlorine alike. Even looking at her leftover udon in its red lacquered box makes Sakura feel a little sick.

“We should sleep,” Kariya says, and Archer yawns in agreement.

“Gonna brush my teeth first,” Sakura mumbles, and shuffles over to the bathroom.

She’s extra-diligent today, trying to get every bit of sugary pastry off of her teeth. She winds up needing Kariya’s help for the back molars, which he is happy to assist with. She tries not to fall asleep at the sink, but the soothing feeling of her uncle’s gentle hand beneath her chin isn’t helping.

Once the brushing is done, Sakura decides on a quick shower to get the chlorine out of her hair. She suspects Archer will want a turn too, and scrubs at her hair as hard and fast as she can. I can enjoy the hot water tomorrow in my bath.

After she dresses in her flower-patterned pajamas (the bloodstones are in the shirt pocket), she remembers Aoi sitting at her beautiful dresser, stroking her hair a hundred times with a brush. Today was a very grown-up day…that would be a good way to end it.

Though the mirror is fogged up, Sakura doesn’t mind. She takes one of the red plastic brushes on the sink and begins, wincing at the wet tangles she finds. In the blurry mirror, she looks like some kind of monster.

She can hear Kariya just outside, turning off the lamp to save electricity. The door is half-open, ushering in cool air into the still-steamed bathroom. He’s humming a song her parents taught her, and she can’t help but hum along.

 She notices something else in the mirror just behind her, a green and black lump.

“Uncle Kariya?” she asks, and awkwardly turns around on her stool.

Her neck prickles and her breath escapes her. The red and gold spears in the man’s hands overwhelm her vision.

“I’m afraid not,” says Lancer, and strikes.

He reaches out and grabs her before she can move. He’s moving backward, heading for the door. He wants to steal me. She struggles in his grip, beats her hands against his green armor and bites futilely at his arm. The only thing she does is distract him.

That’s enough for Kariya.

The lamp clangs into Lancer’s face. His grip loosens, and Sakura drops to the ground. Kariya ducks out of the way just as Archer’s arrows zip past.

Sakura and Kariya crawl on their bellies to safety—or something like it. Overhead and behind her, she can hear arrows flying past and cracking uselessly. It must be the spears. She can hear them spinning, disturbing the air.

Soon, they’re at Archer’s side. His armor glows like a beacon. He doesn’t take his eyes off Lancer, instead gesturing to the desk behind him. They squeeze underneath together, Kariya nearly bent double.

“Can you see anything?” he asks, over the clang and thrum of legendary weapons.

“No,” Sakura replies, her belly hurting with tension.

Lancer speaks up amid the din: “Your arrogance has doomed you, Archer. Your unguarded room was child’s play to break into!”

“Coming here was your mistake. You will never leave this room alive, mongrel!”

Sakura can hear the hum of Archer’s portal opening, and suspects the bow is gone. Carefully she peers out—just in time to see him grab a red spear.

She retreats, and hears Lancer’s hiss of shock. “My Gae Dearg! Now you are a murderer and a thief, Archer?”

“On the contrary, mongrel, you are the thief. This is the original Gae Dearg. Do you dare to test your inferior copy against it?”

“Of course.”

Without warning the two spears clang together. Lancer is close enough that Sakura can see his boots. She claps her hands over her ears to escape the din. The noise slithers into her head, making her feel even more on edge. Please don’t die, Archer! Don’t let Lancer get you…!

She starts as Kariya’s big hands gently cup her ears. She looks up with blurry eyes as he smiles reassuringly. She wants to tell him to cover his ears too—she can see him trying not to flinch—but all she can do is smile weakly back.

Her smile fades as Archer gives way. He thrusts the tip of his Gae Dearg at Lancer’s feet, but Lancer dodges. In a whirl of red the spear jerks upward, the tip scraping against Lancer’s thigh. Blood coats the floor.

Archer laughs and prepares to strike again. But Lancer is faster. His spears are a blur, and his monstrous grin twists his face.

Archer’s jaw drops. He hisses in pain. She gasps in horror at the shattered gap in his armor’s side. Blood spurts freely, the smell sharp and bitter.

“You’re mine, Archer!” Lancer roars.

Sakura’s mind narrows to one image: black vines snaking out and catching Lancer by his limbs, stopping him. She thrusts out her hands, throat raw with anger.

“Go away!”

Lancer crashes to the floor, his ankles floating a few inches from the ground. His arms are lashed behind his back. His spears vanish in a blue haze. He growls and struggles, but it’s no use. His ankles drag him backward toward the door, then through.

Archer crouches down by the desk, his armor (and flesh) slowly mending itself. “Sakura…what Magecraft was that?”

“Useful, I’d say,” Kariya says, his smile just short of hysterical.

Her belly heaves, and dinner is wasted. And all over Archer’s boots.

To his credit, Archer’s lip curls only slightly in disgust. “I would suggest some medicine, and another bout of teeth-cleaning.” He summons two damp cloths and hands one to Sakura. “You did well—but try to inform me next time.”

“About the Magecraft, or the puke?”

“Both.”

Sakura’s hands shake as she wipes her mouth. Her belly’s still roiling, and her head feels very heavy. How did I do that? Was there an incantation, an element…?

 Archer’s hand on her shoulder interrupts her thoughts. “We have another intruder in our midst—a Master, this time.”

Sakura struggles to her feet, feeling very self-conscious. The feeling increases when she gets a good look at the Master in question—a red-haired woman with cold, searching dark brown eyes.

“Pardon the intrusion,” she says, almost as though she means it.

“…Okay,” is all Sakura can reply with.

She’s very stylish—Sakura likes the huge magenta ribbon she sports at her collar in particular—but her real elegance comes from her purposeful stride. The skin on her lower legs looks as smooth as her walk.  This lady can’t be anything but a Queen!

“I am Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri,” says the Master-Queen, her voice cool and clipped. “Which of you—oh.” She spots Sakura’s Command Seals. “Oh.”

“Your name is prettier than mine,” Sakura says, eager to give a compliment. “My name is Tohsaka Sakura.”

Sola-Ui at first doesn’t seem to know what to say, but she recovers. “Your name is quite charming. Shall I sit?”

Kariya has already dragged the sofa a little closer—both to be considerate and to have available cover, judging by the wariness in his eyes. Sola-Ui nods curtly in thanks and settles in, her long legs crossed at her bare ankles.

Reluctantly, Sakura climbs up on the couch, feeling very small and plain. She feels a little better when Kariya sits next to her, and Archer stands at her side.

After a long pause, Sola-Ui speaks. 

“It’s clear to me that a fair fight between our Servants can’t happen. D—Lancer’s spears and speed can easily damage your Archer, and Archer’s prana is…amazingly high.”

Archer chuckles wryly. “It looks as though Lancer has better taste in Masters than I assumed. You, at least, have thought about strategy.”

Surprisingly, Sola-Ui’s cheeks flush, and something resembling a delighted smile threatens to blossom. Sakura looks between Archer and their guest and wonders.

Sola-Ui quickly regains her composure. “I was originally planning on dueling you myself, in my dead fiancé’s honor. Now that I see you, though…I understand your Archer’s intent. If Kayneth met you…I doubt your age would have saved you.”

Sakura looks at Archer, not quite believing it. “Did you…kill a Master?”

“Unfortunately, yes. There was little choice in the matter. Not only would he have killed you, he was planning on torturing Rider’s Master to exhibit his own dubious power. So I settled the matter myself, as a King should.”

Kariya speaks up, his voice harsh with anger. “Good. Looks like we can agree on something after all.”

Sola-Ui has that strange look in her eyes again. “Our marriage was arranged, and I hated that man.” She lets out a surprisingly girlish giggle. “I guess I should say ‘thank you’!”

Archer inclines his head, his smile equally strange. “You’re quite welcome. At least someone appreciates the effort.”

“Are you here to fight, Miss Sophia-Ri?” Kariya asks, still sounding on edge.

“Not in the usual way, no. A child-Master is…unprecedented, and adjustments need to be made.”

“I can fight.” Sakura’s already tired of this reaction toward her age. “You saw my spell, didn’t you?”

“I did. I’m a little impressed—few children your age have such an affinity for the Hollow element. But then again, your family has a long tradition of excellent skill in Magecraft.”

Her heart swells with pride at Sola-Ui’s words. “Th-thank you so much, Miss Sophia-Ri!”

Sola-Ui’s smile is more detached than genuine. “You’re welcome. But I can tell that the Magecraft you used has weakened you—and it wouldn’t do to battle in such conditions.”

A thought occurs to Sakura. “I know what we can do!” The sight of three adults’ eyes staring expectantly at her almost makes her falter, but she soldiers on. “Um, well…in stories, a lot of times there’s a riddle competition between people who both want something, but don’t want to kill each other. We could do that—I mean, if you like.”

“Hmm…that could work. Between you and I, our Servants, or both?”

“Both, I think. That way, Archer and Lancer can fight fair without fighting, and that’s good!” She quickly adds “Do you want to, Archer?”

Archer nods thoughtfully, a lazy smirk on his face. “Yes, that could be quite entertaining. I have not battled with my wits in far too long—may Lancer be up to the challenge!”

Sola-Ui smiles. “All right, then. Lancer, please come to me!”

After a moment, Lancer hazes into being, kneeling reverently at his Master’s side. “Mistress Sola-Ui, what would you have of me?”

“You will face Archer in a battle of riddles, as I will against Sakura here. Let’s see…” Sola-Ui purses her lips. “The winner guesses correctly two out of three?”

“Okay,” Sakura says. She turns to Kariya, feeling a little sheepish. “I’m sorry Uncle Kariya, we didn’t think of anything for you to do!”

He laughs good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it, I’m moral support.” It’s clear he’s itching to help somehow.

Sola-Ui folds her hands primly on her lap. “Shall we start?”

Sakura nods. “Who goes first?”

“The King, naturally,” Archer answers, sounding annoyed. “This once, I shall pardon your mistake.”

Lancer settles himself into a more comfortable position, legs folded and his hands on his knees. There is a long, cold pause before Archer recites:

“You wear me every day, but never put me on. I change colors if you leave me out too long. What am I?”

Kariya’s lips twitch in a smile—he has a guess. Sakura watches Lancer’s eyes glaze over in thought, and wonders if he’s encountered this riddle before. Would that be cheating, then…?

Lancer’s eyes refocus, and he smiles. “The answer is ‘skin’.”

“Indeed. Clearly I needn’t have coddled you.”

Sakura decides to try harder, and focuses as hard as she can on Lancer’s riddle:

“What binds two people, yet touches only one?”

Archer doesn’t pause. “A wedding ring. Who is coddling who, I wonder?”

Lancer shrugs. “Does it matter? Do your best, then.”

It matters to me—I want to guess too! Sakura tries not to pout.

Archer rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment. A nasty smile crawls across his face. “Very well, then, have a difficult one: I never was, yet always will be. No one ever sees me, and never will. But I am always with you, just out of reach. What am I?”

The room is unbearably silent. Possibilities race through Sakura’s head, only to not fit. Lancer chews his lip, his expression dark in thought. Sola-Ui and Archer are the only ones unfazed. Outside, a flock of birds flap and squawk loudly by.

Lancer laughs bitterly, breaking the silence. “‘A difficult one’, indeed. I’m afraid I don’t know the answer. Could you tell me?”

“I suppose so. The answer is ‘the future’.” Archer cocks his head to one side and smirks. “A knight such as yourself, who lives one day at a time, wouldn’t dream of tomorrow.”

The arrogance emitting from her Servant is enough to make Sakura want to scoot closer to Kariya. It’s somehow both soothing and annoying, and that Kayneth was apparently worse makes her mind boggle.

Lancer rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you an equal challenge: All are born with me, but on their deathbed few possess me. What am I?”

Archer snickers, barely thinking things over. “That’s no challenge, mongrel! The answer is health!”

To Sakura’s surprise, Lancer smiles and shakes his head. Sola-Ui looks equally pleased, though she doesn’t say a word.

Archer’s eyes widen in astonishment. “You mean—well, then, let me guess once more!”

“Best two out of three,” Lancer says softly, still smiling. “Your Master has the answer.”

“I do?” Sakura tries not to look flustered, and thinks the riddle over. The answer hits her. “Is it…innocence?”

“That it is.”

“Though you went over the limit, it appears we have a tie,” says Sola-Ui coolly.

“Then it’s our turn?” Sakura hopes she can think of good riddles in time.

“Mm-hmm.” Sola-Ui bares her teeth in a challenging smile. “You first.”

“Um, okay.” Sakura remembers one Tokiomi taught her: “She who has it doesn’t tell it. He who takes it doesn’t know it. She who knows it doesn’t want it. What is it?”

She feels very pleased with herself as her glamorous opponent purses her lips in thought. The chances of Sola-Ui knowing the answer is as likely as Sola-Ui having encountered the “it” in question.

“The answer is ‘counterfeit money’. An interesting choice.”

“Uh-huh,” Sakura says, trying not to sound disappointed.

“My turn, then: For now I must stay under the man who made me, but one day I’ll be as powerful as he. People will hang on every word I say, and some of their money to me they’ll pay. Who am I?”

After an embarrassingly long time, the answer comes to her. “A prince—or a princess!”

“That’s right.” Sola-Ui’s laugh is as elegant as her smile. “No wonder you chose this game—this is a strength of yours. You truly are a Mage.”

“Thank you!” Though it’s not clearly a compliment or an insult. “So: what’s harder to catch, the faster you run?”

The blaring screech of a security alarm interrupts whatever answer she was about to receive.

“All guests, please evacuate the building. This is not a drill. All guests—”

Sakura barely has time to be afraid before she’s surrounded by golden light.

When the light fades, she finds herself, Archer and Kariya safe, just outside the hotel entrance. Already, a crowd of fellow guests has knotted together near the front entrance, their names being checked off by a stringy bellhop. Thankfully, nobody’s noticed their glittery arrival.

“We should probably go over there,” Kariya says, taking Sakura’s hand in his. “We don’t want to cause any more trouble than we already have.”

Archer lets out an unkingly snort. “Thanks to Lancer, our chambers were damaged—you think the mongrel there knows about it?”

Sakura lets the adults hash out that problem, and instead wonders who set off the alarm—and what for. A fire? Was it a gas leak, or a pipe break? Or maybe it’s…a bomb? She looks at the growing crowd of people, trying to see if there’s anybody suspicious. It doesn’t seem that way—everybody looks concerned, either for themselves or for the kids with them.

Her gaze focuses on a man standing away from the crowd. A plume of smoke trails upward from where he stands, visible even above the grownups walking by. 

He’s wearing black, from his cool trenchcoat to his tie. Unfortunately, his shoes are brown and don’t match. His hair is black and fluffy, the kind Rin would want to play with. Sakura sniffs disdainfully at the cigarette in the man’s mouth—An elegant grownup drinks wine, you’re not elegant at all!—and watches curiously as he stamps the butt out on the tar before heading over to the bellhop.

Why didn’t you go there before…?

The man strides out of the shadows, illuminated jaggedly by the orange light. She gets a better look at him, noting how sharp his cheekbones are, how he’s clearly confident in his words even as he speaks softly. The bellhop nods stiffly and writes something down on his clipboard, and the man strides away again.

“Sakura?” Kariya gently tugs at her hand. “Hey, we’re going to get our names checked off.”

“…Okay,” she says, and lets herself be led over, her eyes on the strange man the whole time.

Now Sakura has a better view, and she doesn’t like it. Even from a short distance, she can see that his eyes are black and cold, with dark shadows beneath them. His mouth is set in a sour expression as he takes out a square device of some kind and says something into it.

The parking lot is filling up with people, and Sakura finds herself multitasking between watching the strange man and sticking with Kariya and Archer. The name-checking went by faster than expected, and now they’re going…somewhere.

“Uncle Ka—”

The hotel bursts into flame.

The explosion is almost drowned out by people screaming. Molten glass rains down from above. Her nose is filled with the bitter smell of smoke, burning metal and glass. She can hear sirens wailing, coming closer. Sweating, tear-stained bodies are surging around her like cattle, and she can’t find Kariya.

“Uncle Kariya! Uncle Kariya! Archer!” she wails, her raw, shrill voice barely heard above the din.

Somehow, she struggles out of the human stampede and clings to a nearby lamppost like a lifeline. Even with the burning heat of the building at her back, she’s never felt so cold. Shivering, she looks back at the building, hoping that everyone got away.

The strange man appears at the tail-end of the crush of people, gazing back at the hotel. For a moment, their eyes meet. Her heart flutters in her chest, a broken-winged moth.

“Monster,” she says, her throat dry.

Maybe, he mouths. His coat billows as he turns to leave. The lumbering crowd swallows him up.

Panic sinks its talons into Sakura, and she runs.

Her inside shoes scrape against the concrete as she races down the sidewalk. The piercing neon of the city lights nearly blinds her as she passes. Her thoughts race as fast as her feet: Did he blow up the building? Why? Was he trying to kill us? Maybe—maybe he killed Miss Sola-Ui and Lancer! And maybe he killed Uncle Kariya…!

She trips on something and pitches forward. Her hands smack harshly against cold concrete, and the pain jolts the panic away—at least a little. She shifts her weight onto her bruised knees, looks at the bleeding scrapes on her palms, and can only stare mutely at them. So stupid…I can’t even cry right now. Carefully she gets to her feet, willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest.

A soft creaking noise catches her attention, and she turns to see a hulking black knight crouched beside her on a metal bench, drenched in shadow. It doesn’t say anything; it merely watches her for a long moment, gauntleted hands between its knees.

Sakura finds her voice. “B-Berserker…?”

Berserker lets out a low, affirmative rumble and vanishes in blue dust.

“There you are,” comes Archer’s voice from behind her, sounding very tired. “Clearly I shall have to invest in leashes for you and your Uncle.”

He’s wearing his casual clothes, but it’s clear he’s been searching for her. His chest rises and falls slightly, as though he’s been hunting on foot.

Sakura forgets herself and latches onto Archer’s middle with all her might, her eyes stinging with tears. “Archer, you’re okay, you’re really okay…!”

“Of course I am; you dare doubt me?” His slender hand awkwardly pats her head, and she can smell traces of ash on his shirt. He gently but firmly disentangles himself. “What could have happened to frighten you so?”

Her story comes out in a rush, punctuated occasionally by a phlegm-y cough. She tells how she couldn’t find him or Kariya, and describes the strange man as best she can recall. She almost forgets about Berserker, as quick to appear and disappear as he was. All the while she keeps her eyes on Archer, who looks intently back and nods from time to time.

“…What should we do now, Archer?” Sakura asks, once her tale is done.

“Stay close together, naturally. We should also keep an eye out for that mongrel you saw—he may have been after you as well.”

“And what about Uncle Kariya?”

Archer sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, I lost him. But he must be nearby; he would never stray far from his favorite niece.”

“You—you lost him?” Sakura’s too worried to speak politely. “How could you? You’re—you’re a Heroic Spirit!”

“Tell me, have you forgotten which of you I’m bound to?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Heat crawls up the back of her neck. “But—but he’s my Uncle, and he can’t use Magecraft, so you’ve got to find him!”

Archer shakes his head and smirks. “You underestimate Kariya’s ability to survive as much as he underestimates you. What a pair you are!”

Sakura forgets her parents’ lessons, throws up her hands and lets out a cry of frustration.

Archer’s belly laughs threaten to drown out passing cars. “It seems weariness does not become you!”

“I’m not tired,” Sakura says, even as her body begins to slump forward. “C’mon, Archer, let’s find—”

Archer chuckles indulgently above her, and she feels her eyes flutter closed before she can retort.

---

In between searching for Kariya, Sakura hears stray bits of news, whether from Archer or a makeshift, shadowy Familiar—Caster tried to attack the Einzbern castle, but Saber and Lancer fought him off handily; Sola-Ui held her own bravely against Saber’s Master, using summoned weaker Spirits at her disposal. Her and Lancer’s whereabouts are unknown.

Sakura and Archer make their temporary base in the park, with a golden tent and plenty of food from the Gate of Babylon. If there’s one place Kariya will visit without fail, it’s the park.

This time, Sakura erects a Bounded Field without delay, one small but secure.

“It feels cold,” Archer comments, running his hands lightly over the violet strands. “And claustrophobic, too.”

The sky above them is turning to lapis lazuli, with white stars glowing into existence. The fire, resting in a shallow pit a short distance from their tent, makes the stars hard to see, but the embers will die soon.

“No,” she replies, staring at the mug of hot chocolate in her hands. “I just made a Bounded Field like Father’s.”

“Ah. Your father is very possessive, I take it?”

Sakura surprises herself by laughing bitterly.

Archer sits down in the lacquered wooden chair opposite hers and pokes at the fire thoughtfully with a stick. He looks at her over the flames, the orange light casting his solemn expression in a warm glow.

“What is it, Archer?” Sakura asks, her tone sharper than usual. Kariya’s absence feels like a stone on her chest. “I can change the Bounded Field tomorrow, if—”

“If I require something from you, I will inform you of such,” Archer replies brusquely.

Silence stretches between them like barbed wire.

Still fussing with the fire, Archer speaks. “It appears the memory-dreams can occur in reverse. I saw the day you were…‘adopted’.”

Sakura doesn’t say a word.

“Your mother seemed to have an inkling of what was to come for you, but even so she trusted your strength.”

Sakura’s mind flashes to the long, warm hug Aoi gave her before she left, the scent of hyacinth perfume. “Be strong, Sakura,” is that what she said…?

“If your father knew about that worm Zouken, he showed no sign of it. He seemed to think he was giving you a better life.”

She remembers how big and warm Tokiomi’s hand was as they walked down the short path to the Matou’s mansion. The sun was warm on her back, and he hummed a silly song that she and Rin had made up.

Archer’s voice is gentle, as though Sakura is made of lace. “Why did your parents name you two ‘Rin’ and ‘Sakura’? The dream ended before I could discover the answer. Do you know?”

Her throat feels hoarse and clogged. “B-Because…” Her hands tremble.

“I promise not to laugh, if you find it embarrassing.”

“Father and Mother said…‘the cold of winter protects the blossoms beneath the snow’.”

“How very poetic.” Archer places the stick down on the ground, and slouches regally in his chair. “But your parents were incorrect.”

“Huh? About what?” Despite their obvious mistaken trust in Zouken, the idea is unthinkable.

Archer smiles slyly. “You may be but a budding flower, but you need less protection than they thought.”

Sakura’s throat bobs thickly as she tries to speak. “Are you…trying to cheer me up?”

“That was the plan. Clearly I need a different approach.” He pauses for a moment, then says “Tell me, Sakura, what brings you joy?”

“Um…what do you mean?”

“What makes your heart lighter, and living a little easier—what did you seek out when you felt broken down and defeated by Zouken?”

“Oh!” Sakura smiles shyly. “I don’t know, but…I like scary stories. They’ve always made me happy.”

Archer looks pleasantly surprised. “Haha, I see! Well, then…I may have something to your liking.”

She nervously holds up a hand, to stop him from using the Gate of Babylon. “If it’s not too much trouble, um…I’d like to hear a scary story from you.”

Archer’s shoulders shake as he chuckles. “It looks as though I need to teach you a little assertiveness in your desires! Ah, but that can wait. Let me see…”

The fire crackles and sparks pop in the cool air. Sakura waits patiently, and tries to pretend that Kariya is safe.

Archer leans forward in his chair, resting his chin on his interwoven fingers. “Have you heard the tale of ‘The City of Brass’?”

“No,” Sakura replies. “Is it from the Arabian Nights stories?”

“Indeed. It begins: There was, in olden time, and in an ancient age and period, in Damascus of Syria…”

Sakura listens quietly, enraptured. Archer’s the King of Storytellers too! His words and voice are melodious and vibrant; she can feel the sun’s heat on her skin, see how it gleamed brightly on the bottles of brass that should never have been opened, can almost ‘hear’ the stillness of the empty streets and halls, once full of people, and can feel the cold marble of the four-hundred tombs. Her quiet enthusiasm seems to spur Archer on, and he punctuates his words with the occasional flowing hand gesture, the flames’ light flickering over his tanned skin, painting him in orange and black. His words conjure tortured Efrits bound and screaming to the earth, lost love, and hopeless battles.

When the story ends, Sakura’s applause rings out loudly. “Bravo, bravo!” she says, like her parents did at an opera long ago.

Archer bows, looking very pleased. “That tale was longer than I remembered,” he says, summoning a goblet of wine.

“It was wonderful,” Sakura says, shivering with delighted terror. “The poor Efrits—the poor people! Oooh, and the poems were so sad, but so pretty…!”

“Yes, there is beauty in sadness. Perhaps joy as well, depending upon the person.”

“Then those persons are weird. Why would they feel like that?”

“Mm. Who can say? You humans are strange, but simple in the end.”

“I guess. Hey, Archer…?”

“Mm?”

“That wasn’t a scary story from your time, was it?”

“No—I do not remember any.” His tone is at once both casual and final.

“I feel better now,” Sakura says, eager to change the subject. “Thanks, Archer.”

Archer settles back in his chair, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “We will search for Kariya again tomorrow. Have no fear, he will be found.”

Sakura thinks of the monstrous man again and feels a chill. Maybe.

Chapter Text

Gilgamesh stares at the mongrel behind the Missing Persons desk and smirks as he withers before him.

“L-Look, sir, I’ve told you over and over, we still haven’t seen him!”

“Clearly, you need to search harder.” He holds up the sketch he drew of Kariya and resists the urge to mash it into the mongrel’s sweating face. “Or is Matou Kariya simply that plain?”

Sakura scowls at him from her position by the huge corkboard full of the images of missing children—their numbers are now distressingly high. He sighs and tells the Missing Persons Mongrel to ignore the “plain” part.

“We’re doing our best, sir, but the missing kids are our first priority!”

Gilgamesh pauses for a moment to allow the Missing Persons Mongrel to further tremble in terror and awe. “…And that is how things should be. Put all your force’s strength into the search—then turn your attention to Kariya.”

The Missing Persons Mongrel nods as if on instinct. He scowls in embarrassment once he realizes what he just did.

Sakura walks over to the desk, her pink sundress floating around her ankles. She grabs the side of the metal surface, heaves herself up and peers over the side. Her brown sandals dangle from her feet, creating flickering shadows as they move.

“Thanks for your help, sir,” she says politely and clearly, a small smile on her face. She inclines her head deeply and somehow avoids hitting the desk.

The Missing Persons Mongrel smiles and bows in return.

“Very well, we shall take our leave.”

Sakura steps back, bows again, and they leave the metal-smelling hovel behind. The sky is gray above them, and the air feels thick when Gilgamesh inhales. Clearly, this will be a paltry day. I should have garbed her in something warmer…

“We should look for the missing kids, too,” Sakura says, her voice soft and sad. “Their families must be so worried…”

“You need to keep your focus on one goal at a time.”

“So you think they’re dead?”

“That may be possible, but unlikely.”

“…Is there something you’re not telling me, Archer?”

“No. I’ve given you all the knowledge I believe you need for the battles to come.” You do not need the wailing of children and the sound of rupturing muscle in your dreams.

Gilgamesh lets Sakura grab onto his white shirt as they cross the street, one arm held out to grab her in case she trips. Nobody pays them any heed, which is both useful and annoying. These mongrels should regard me as their rightful King. Perhaps I shall pay a ‘house call’ to those United Nations…

“Kariya could be at the Church,” he muses aloud, hoping to keep his young Master on track. “We haven’t thought to look there.”

Sakura looks down at the concrete, her hair obscuring her eyes. “I guess…but…”

“But…?”

“Wouldn’t that look like giving up? To other Masters, I mean?”

Gilgamesh sighs and crouches down to her level. “Kariya told me about Zouken’s ‘deal’ with you. If, by some chance, he decides to use our inspecting the Church as you ‘failing’, I will gladly ‘correct’ him.” …With a knife through the eye.

Sakura looks up at him, eyes unusually bright. “You’d really keep him away from me?”

“Certainly. The Holy Grail is my treasure, and he is nothing but a thieving worm. As you are essentially my subject, you have the right to borrow it.”

“…Thank you, Archer.” Her smile is so full of hope, he considers murdering Zouken while Sakura sleeps.

Before, he lacked accurate information to judge if Zouken was as vile a person as Kariya claimed and Sakura implied. But now…thanks to the memory-dreams, he has all the inflammatory information he needs, in vivid detail.

Unbidden, his mind flashes to when Sakura first entered the worm pit: the darkness of the cold, clammy room only illuminated by the light from the open door, Zouken’s insistence that there would be light soon. Gilgamesh recalls Sakura’s—and his—eyes adjusting, seeing the mold-green light of the walls, the steep staircase and the hundreds of little “caves”, all lined up in rows in the walls. He sharply recalls Sakura’s shocked cry as Zouken’s cane pushed her down the stairs—and how her fall was broken by thousands of hungry bugs swarming out of their caves and preparing to feast. Her hand stretched out toward the light above, but her (their) vision was soon obscured by death-cold slime and gleaming gray shells. Sakura’s screams and the eager click-clack-click of mandibles rang so loudly in his mind Gilgamesh thought they were real.

Yes, Zouken’s death is imminent, and well warranted.

Perhaps I could “visit” him tonight…but that would leave Sakura alone, and this city is crawling with vulgar murderers. Perhaps another time, when Kariya has returned.

Gilgamesh is aware that his emotions toward Kariya’s absence could be vaguely considered “loss”—I even miss dealing with his fumbling jokes and hands during Mana Transfer—but it is a fleeting sensation; no doubt mild in comparison to Sakura’s increasingly weary searches. It’s the difference between missing a tool and a precious friend, and one he can appreciate.

They continue walking. Sakura hops between the cracks in the pavement, humming tunelessly as she goes. Passersby smile at them—mainly at Sakura, which is fitting; youth is a fleeting joy, as Gilgamesh knows well. Occasionally other children join her, chattering a little before being gently pulled away by their busy parents.

“Do you wish to have friends your age, Sakura?” Gilgamesh asks, as they stop under a vibrant green tree.

She chews her lip thoughtfully. “Sometimes, but not too many friends.”

Gilgamesh nods. “That seems reasonable.”

“Good. Did you have a lot of friends, Archer?”

He phrases his answer carefully. “I had one beloved companion, and that was all I needed.”

“A ‘beloved companion’, huh…you mean like Uncle Kariya?”

“Hmm, something to that effect.”

“Oh.” She looks up at him with a lost expression. “Archer, um, I want to ask you something. When…” Her voice is thick, and she clears her throat awkwardly.

He waits patiently for her to continue and suspects where this is going.

“…When the Holy Grail War ends, will you stay with Kariya and me?”

He sighs internally and tries to come up with a non-traumatizing answer. “I shall do my best to stay. After all, there is much of this era I haven’t witnessed. A pleasure trip with you and Kariya could be quite entertaining.”

Sakura looks a little happier, but still unsure. “But—but what if your mana runs out, or somebody kills you?”

“Ha! I will not die. The mana, however…that will be an issue.” Gilgamesh glances up at the sky. “Let us check the ‘usual suspects’ again, then we can head to the Church.”

Sakura smiles. “Okay!”

---

Much to Gilgamesh’s annoyance (and Sakura’s increasing disappointment), there’s no sign of Kariya at the tranquil parks, the cramped photography shop, the pleasantly bustling bookstores, or the rest of the shopping district. They sit at one of the coffee shops and alleviate their dark mood with strawberry-cinnamon crepes and apple juice on ice.

Gilgamesh watches the chattering customers and workers and tries not to grind his teeth with every screech of a plastic chair being pushed aside or pulled closer to a table. The scents of fruits, cream and sugar border on the nauseating, but somehow manage to be bearable.

“Uncle Kariya took me, Rin and Mother here once,” Sakura says, apparently unaware she’s repeating herself. She’s eating her crepe quickly, looking barely aware of what she’s eating.

“Continue stuffing your face like that, and you’ll fall ill.”

The answer he receives is a distracted mumble and slower bites. Gilgamesh lets her stew in her thoughts and takes a long sip of apple juice, enjoying the cold sweetness on his tongue.

“The Church is the only place left,” Sakura says, staring into her juice cup like it’s a scrying glass. “If Uncle Kariya’s not there…”

“…He will be somewhere we haven’t yet visited,” Gilgamesh assures her, carefully hiding his own concern. And if the mongrel who blew up our previous base has Kariya in his clutches, to use as leverage…he will deeply regret it.

He chews his crepe and notes the strawberries aren’t as sweet and fresh as the crepe stand from a few days ago. The cinnamon and apple juice, however, compliment each other wonderfully, sweet and spicy.

In the midst of the swirling mass of mana around them, the familiar, boisterous mass of prana that can only be Rider moves unhurriedly toward the coffee shop. And what are you doing here, King of Conquerors? And where is your stringy Master?

“Sakura,” Gilgamesh says softly, “Rider is nearby. Be on your guard.”

She nods, her little body coiled to run.

As expected, Rider strolls into the shop, taking up space and grabbing the establishment’s attention without saying a word. Unexpectedly, he’s carrying shopping bags and wearing a t-shirt and jeans like a common mongrel. That cotton is the paltriest variety there is—have you no taste?

Rider doesn’t bother with pretext—his eyes alight on them and he breaks into a huge grin. “Ah, there you two are! I’ve been searching everywhere!”

Sakura’s cheeks flush pink as the other patrons turn their attention to their table as Rider strolls over, totally oblivious. An icy glare from Gilgamesh makes the mongrels mind their own business.

“Is that a polite way of saying ‘I have hunted you down?’ Or do you have something slightly less boring in mind?”

Rider actually finds his comment amusing. The cozy yellow walls and glass displays tremble ominously with his laughter. “You make me sound so murderous! No, no, I came by to give you two an invitation.”

Sakura leans forward curiously, her hands folded on her lap. “What’s it for?”

“Put simply, a Grail dialogue over drinks tonight. The moon will be full and bright, and the weather looks pleasant, so naturally we should try to use that to our advantage. Instead of walloping each other over a cup, we should share our philosophies, as befits a King! Well, Kings, technically.”

Gilgamesh watches Sakura mutter “walloping” under her breath, a tiny smile on her face. We could both use a little amusement. And I’m sorely lacking philosophical musings and alcohol of late…

But there are two niggling problems to solve.

“How, pray tell, can we trust you not to attack us during this banquet?”

Rider looks utterly confused—it’s an amusing sight. “What kind of banquets did your era have? We made a truce, remember?” His tone carries an undercurrent of Are you going to betray me?, which is offensive yet understandable.

“True. Very well; if the truce is secure, I suppose we could take time out of our schedule for you. I expect you to be grateful.”

Rider chuckles. “Will you accept my pleasure instead?”

“Hmm, that is serviceable.” I would indeed ‘accept your pleasure’, in many respects, but unfortunately, we are at war…

Sakura raises her hand. “Um, Mr. Rider, have you seen my Uncle Kariya? We’ve been looking for him everywhere!”

Rider strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Oh, you mean the black-haired, gangly fellow? Wears that practical, purplish-black tracksuit, right? Hrm…I think I saw him at the big red bridge an hour or so ago. Does that help?”

“Yes,” Sakura and Gilgamesh say, as they prepare to leave.

Gilgamesh doesn’t bother looking at the amount of money he throws down for the check. Sakura hastily thanks Rider and bows deeply, nearly falling over as she does.

“The banquet will be at the Einzbern place,” Rider calls, as they run out. “The wine will be superb!”

Gilgamesh lifts a hand in acknowledgement as he grabs Sakura around the middle, finds an empty hall and teleports away. Your banquet better be worthy of my time, mongrel…

---

Annoyingly, Kariya isn’t on the red bridge, as Rider suggested.

Gilgamesh keeps his expression carefully neutral as Sakura jogs down to the end of the bridge and back, already breaking a sweat. The way her legs are trembling, it’s unclear if it’s because she’s unused to exercise, or her stress is mounting.

“He’s—he’s not—” she wheezes, her hands on her knees and her head bowed.

“I can see that. How troublesome.”

She nods and wipes her face, her face scrunched up in annoyance. She has yet to burst into tears again, which is pleasant…

While Sakura catches her breath, Gilgamesh surveys the land beneath the bridge. He sees clear, slow-moving water, lush green trees swaying in the breeze, a tiny park with only two people strolling about—

Wait. He narrows his gaze and leans forward, vaguely disgusted at the stickiness of the bridge’s rail. Is that…?

It is. Gilgamesh grabs Sakura and teleports down into the park. He places himself carefully between Kariya and Lancer, who unsurprisingly is pleasing to the eye even in a green sweater and blue jeans.

Sakura looks confused for a moment before she launches herself into Kariya’s arms—judging by the sounds, she’s squeezing the air out of him.

“Were you and your Master watching over him?” Gilgamesh asks Lancer, who is looking fondly yet sadly on the scene.

“Yes, it was the least I—or rather, we—could do.” Lancer bows politely. “Lord Kariya was as pleasant a guest a man could ask for. He was an especially enjoyable drinking companion.”

Kariya grumbles half-heartedly. “For the last time, Lancer, I’m a photojournalist, not a nobleman…”

“But ‘Lord Kariya’ sounds cool,” Sakura says. “Right, Archer?”

Gilgamesh steps back a little, giving him the ability to look at each member of the conversation. He looks at Kariya and rubs his chin thoughtfully.

Kariya’s expression telegraphs Seriously? You’re really going to make a big production out of this?

Of course I am. “…Well, having now considered it, I decree that the best title for Kariya is ‘Uncle’, without a doubt. Obviously the right to call him such is reserved strictly for Sakura Tohsaka and her sister.”

Sakura cheers and resumes cuddling in Kariya’s arms. Kariya rolls his eyes and adjusts his grip, letting her rest her head contentedly on his shoulder.

Lancer chuckles. “Well-played, King of Heroes.”

“Naturally. How did you two find each other to begin with?”

Kariya looks very tired. “Well, I tried to find you, but I got lost in the crowd. I went to the Church first, thinking you’d be there since it’s a neutral zone. The priest’s son gave me some tips as to where he might’ve seen you. But I just wound up running around in circles, the b—jerk—totally played me! The only good thing about it was I helped Rin escape from Caster’s creepy Master; he was trying to hurt her and some kids with a kind of Magecraft I’ve never seen before. But then he got away, and the police found Rin, so I went looking for you again. Then Lancer found me, and he and Miss Sophia-Ri let me stay at their base for awhile.”

Sakura frowns. “Did you get to talk to Rin?”

Kariya shakes his head sadly. “Not really, just to tell her to run after she broke the guy’s Spell bracelet and I shoved him into a wall.”

Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow. Will that be the end of Caster’s Master, I wonder? If so, Caster will be out of mana soon…

“At any rate,” Lancer says, “Lady Sola-Ui sends her regards to you both. Oh, and she figured out the answer to your riddle, Lady Sakura.”

“What’d she decide?” she asks eagerly.

“The answer is ‘breath’.”

“Yes!”

Lancer smiles and inclines his head. “That was a simple yet clever riddle you gave. You make your ancestors proud, Sakura Tohsaka.”

Sakura lets out an embarrassed squeak, and Kariya immediately begins ribbing her.

“There can be no doubt of that,” Gilgamesh says, glad that the mongrel’s cursed love-spot only affects women. “And now what will you do?”

Lancer looks prepared to leave, until he pulls a thin card out of his jeans pocket and hands it to Sakura. “My Master wanted to give her calling card to you. It has her office number at the Clock Tower, and other details. She apparently considers you worthy of good training.”

Sakura holds the card as though it’s a rare treasure. “Thank you so much, Lancer!”

Lancer smiles. “My pleasure. Now I must return to my Master’s side. My time here is coming to a close, and I still have a duel to attend.”

“Against Saber, I presume? Well, then, I trust it will be a splendid bout, worthy of a ballad or two. Alas, I will have to miss it. We have a banquet of Kings to attend later this evening, and I suspect we’ll never hear the end of it if we arrive late.”

“Ha! I understand. I’ll take my leave now.” With one final bow, Lancer vanishes.

“…So now what?” Kariya asks, as raucous crows flap lazily overhead.

“First, we return to our new base,” Gilgamesh says, briskly taking Kariya by the arm and teleporting away. “We have business to take care of, you and I.”

---

Once they arrive back at their tent, he continues issuing orders: “Second, Sakura—yes, that butterfly is pretty—you may want to inspect your Bounded Field, in case something or someone damaged it.”

“Huh? Why?” Sakura asks, as Kariya sets her down.

“Because there will be a dazzling King of Knights at the banquet—Saber, to be precise—and I have no doubt you’ll wish to converse with her without worrying about our base.”

Sakura nods slowly, before saying “You want me away from the tent, right? Why?”

Kariya grins sheepishly. “Sorry, Sakura, but Archer and I are going to be doing some really boring stuff in a little while, and we need something for you to do in the meantime.”

“Oh. Boring like taxes?”

Gilgamesh makes a face. “Precisely. You would be asleep in an instant, let me assure you.”

Sakura nods thoughtfully for a moment, then blushes a becoming pink. “…But, Archer, to do taxes with Kariya, you need to be married!”

Gilgamesh laughs in surprise. “Truly? Well, since Kariya and I are guarding you, that does make us married in a sense.”

“Oh. Hmm…I guess so.” Sakura holds out her hands. “Can I please have something to read while you’re working?”

“Of course. I trust ghost stories would be acceptable?”

“Yes, please!”

The Gate of Babylon opens, and Sakura wanders toward a nearby cherry tree, three leather-bound books neatly stacked in her arms.

“Now, then, to business,” Gilgamesh says to Kariya, as they enter the tent.

Kariya’s laughter drips with self-deprecation. “Looks like I’m not as good a lay as you said I was.”

“Oh, hush. What have I told you about pleasure? In order to experience it to the fullest, you must put aside all self-doubt and your own preconceptions. And after all, sexual congress can make the gods themselves look ridiculous.”

Kariya doesn’t have a rejoinder at first. He looks around the tent, eyeing the large cream-yellow bed covered in colorful silken pillows and the slightly smaller bed Sakura’s been using, equally populated with pillows and soft blankets. Gilgamesh chuckles as Kariya steps back in surprise—he finally noticed the soft red Persian rug, not earth, beneath their feet. You truly expected I would subject myself to grass stains?

“Have you nothing to say, Kariya?”

“Yeah, I do. Even if you call it ‘pleasure’, this Mana Transfer’s still business. And…”

“…And you feel guilty. What for? If you dislike being naked, then you may partially disrobe.”

Kariya shakes his head. “It’s not that. And it’s not that you’re a guy, either, I’ve been around. Though it is a little surreal; I mean who can say they’ve seen a legendary King naked? It’s just—there’s a woman I love.”

“I suspected that. Very well, enlighten me—what mongrel woman could possibly compare to the King of Heroes?”

Kariya makes an impressive grimace and digs through his pockets. Finding his wallet, he pulls out a photo and hands it to Gilgamesh before forcefully looking away.

The pale-skinned woman standing in the photo can only be Sakura’s mother. Sakura has her smile, the same curves of her face. Her dark hair is long and wavy, the kind that deserves to be decorated with crowns of flowers or entwined with silk ribbons. Her eyes are forest green, deep and soothing. Her bosom is pleasant to the eye, and her hips beneath her soft green dress are equally well-formed. Beautiful, in a natural sort of way.

But somehow it’s her ears that draw Gilgamesh in; the soft curve of the shells, the lack of adornment that brings to mind nudity, the way she appears to be listening genuinely to what the photographer (Kariya) is saying: Those are ears to whisper words of love and desire into, to watch them burn pink with embarrassment or lust. Or perhaps both at once…

“Your taste is good,” Gilgamesh says, handing the photo back. “What a pity she’s a married woman.”

Kariya smiles wryly. “And here I thought you were about to say ‘have an affair with her, mongrel’.”

“Of course not. This is a woman who embodies loyalty—I can tell just from this image. No, I would suggest you find another woman to desire. Surely your gaze has been turned by someone over the years…”

“I wish. I guess my heart’s more durable than that.”

“Mm. But who knows?” Gilgamesh slips off his clothes, sighing softly as soft fabric slides across his skin, leaving cool air in its wake. “Perhaps your heart will yearn for a man instead, or nothing at all. Your life will continue, whether you wish it or not—and your heart will follow.”

Kariya makes a noncommittal grunt and fumbles with his clothes. His eyes are unfocused as he works, and judging by the set of his jaw Gilgamesh’s advice hasn’t been as soothing as expected.

“Why did I show you that picture, anyway? You can’t possibly understand, I mean, you’re a King, and why do you care about my guilt—”

“—Kariya—”

“—I’m nothing more than a tool, right? You should treat me like one. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? My consent shouldn’t matter to a man like you; it’s probably just a formality, you—”

“—Mongrel—”

Kariya ignores him, the insult only spurring him on. He continues struggling with his clothes and snarls about the stupidity of this whole situation, about their obvious gulf in status, and how they should just get this transfer over with.

There will be none of that nonsense here. This is meant to be enjoyable, after all.

“…Lie on the bed, Kariya.” Gilgamesh keeps his voice gentle and warm, the tone of a lover. The plush mattress dips under his weight as he sits.

Kariya looks at him, free of his jacket but struggling with his trousers’ zipper. “Wh—”

“Your determination to cling to the idea of me using you would be admirable if it weren’t so counterproductive.” Gilgamesh smirks and rolls his shoulders, satisfied at the pop they make.  

Kariya cautiously climbs onto the bed and looks at him in utter bafflement as Gilgamesh cups his too-thin cheek. “You—you’re kidding, there’s no way—”

“Sshh, relax,” Gilgamesh says, helping him get undressed the rest of the way. Mana Transfer does have its positives, even if I have to stoop to seducing a fool.

By some miracle, Kariya calms down. “It’s creepy, hearing that kind of gentleness out of you.”

“Would you rather I barked orders?” It’s a genuine question.

“Ugh, no. Just…” Kariya flaps his hand awkwardly. “Just don’t hurt me, that’s all.”

Gilgamesh raises his eyebrows. “How hopelessly vague of you. Very well, I can abide that rule…”

He presses his lips to the hollow of Kariya’s throat and purrs at the low moan that follows.

Outside, the sounds of crinkled pages turning and a child singing a lullaby compete with the birdsong.

“Let me assure you,” he whispers, “you will find this enjoyable.”

Kariya snorts derisively. “Prove it, King of Heroes.”

He does.

---

“…And here I thought ‘taxes’ were a euphemism. Or maybe this is extortion?”

“Well, you did force Sakura and I to gallivant around Fuyuki searching for your panicky self.”

“I didn’t panic! I got lost!”

“Very well, then your sense of direction is highly dubious. Hand them over.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Kariya hands him two 5-yen coins. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He’s resting on his belly, clothed again but rumpled. Not unlike that bird’s nest he calls hair. Thanks to a quick washing and a long nap, the only way Sakura can tell they recently lay together is if she becomes telepathic.

Gilgamesh casually tosses Kariya a few gold pieces. “Consider these payment for the business with the hotel. Speaking of which, I plan to move soon. The birds are becoming increasingly abrasive, and the spiders fare no better.”

Kariya snickers. “Got one in your shoe, huh?”

“Two. And they were mating—something I could do without witnessing.”

“Heh, that makes sense. You probably didn’t have to deal with that kind of thing in Uruk, huh?”

“No, I—oh.” Gilgamesh isn’t sure whether to be surprised or not. “Tell me, Kariya, how long have you known my identity?”

“Since you told Sakura about your mother, and the riddle game with Lancer and Miss Sophia-Ri. There’s a version of your story where you defeat Humbaba of the Cedar Forest with trickery instead of violence, thanks to a friend.” Kariya sits up, looking curious. “Which reminds me, that man in the memory-dream…was that E—”

“—That name is not fit for your lips, mongrel. And it is no concern of yours.”

Kariya looks at him in shock for a long moment, until his body begins to shake. Gilgamesh thinks at first that it’s from fear, but the soft, bitter laughter that follows proves him wrong.

“And you berated me for carrying a torch! Haven’t you heard of ‘practice what you preach’?”

“You are walking a dangerous path, Kariya. Let me assure you, I am well aware of my foolishness. Still, the name of that companion is best left to legend.”

“Why? Enkidu—”

Oh, to be so blissfully foolish…

Gilgamesh slowly pulls Kariya flush to his bare chest, his free arm looped possessively around his waist. He barely has to exert any pressure—even a fool can recognize imminent danger. He curls his hand around Kariya’s—no, the mongrel’s throat, lazily tracing patterns in the skin.

“I can obtain mana from you whether you’re conscious or not,” he whispers in the mongrel’s ear. “Indeed, you have caused me enough trouble that using you as a mana battery may be in my best interest.”

The mongrel’s fingers claw uselessly at his arm. “You wouldn’t.” His Adam’s apple bobs under Gilgamesh’s fingers.

Gilgamesh chuckles darkly and lets the mongrel’s mind fill in the blanks. It works; sweat trickles the mongrel’s face, and his breathing accelerates. The salt makes his fingers tingle, and it delights him.

“Why not? You seem determined to mold yourself into a tool—ah, my mistake, to have me mold you into a tool. How cowardly.” He makes a noise of mock-surprise. “In fact…did you not say ‘my happiness is your happiness’, not so long ago? You still cling to that foolish notion, even now?”

“Of course not! You’re the one who showed me it was foolish. I don’t think that way anymore!”

“Truly? Even if you knew without a doubt that Sakura and her mother would be happier that way?” It’s a trick question, utterly unfair, but he hasn’t had the chance to toy with someone in awhile. He indulges.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment.

“…No, King of Heroes. Not even for them.” It’s almost convincing.

“Excellent. If you wish to live long enough to see Sakura win the Grail, you’d be wise to keep your questions about my companion to yourself. Do you understand?”

“I understood five minutes ago.”

“Good.” Gilgamesh detangles himself from Kariya. “I’m glad we are in agreement.”

“Bastard.”

“Man-child.”

“Oh, like you can talk—”

Their volley of insults is interrupted by the familiar sound of small footsteps running toward the tent. “Uncle Kariya, Archer! I think it’s almost time to go to Rider’s banquet!”

Kariya jumps off the bed as though it’s aflame. Gilgamesh quickly puts his shirt on.

“Excellent, you may enter. Ah, but remember—”

“I know, I know.” Sakura’s shadow switches to the inside shoes on the tent’s mat. “I won’t get the zipper stuck again, promise!”

“I shall hold you to that.”

The tent opens with a scratchy, elongated zip, and Sakura eases inside, looking very pleased. Her knees are decorated in grass stains, a white flower is tucked behind her ear, and the books are still cradled in her arms.

“I got sleepy, so I took a nap,” she says casually—but the way her brows pinch suggests she didn’t have pleasant dreams. “But nobody stole any books, I counted.”

Kariya smiles and picks bits of grass out of her hair, as though he wasn’t in mortal peril a moment ago. “Somebody stealing you would be a bigger deal. But good job keeping Archer’s valuables safe!”

She looks very pleased with herself as she hands the books back. “I liked the one with watercolor pictures the best. But the story about the heart without a body was good too—oh, and the creepy voodoo doll! You have good taste, Archer!”

“Of course, and I’m pleased you enjoyed them.”

Kariya frowns at Sakura’s clothes. “Hey, do we have time to get ready? When is this banquet, anyway?”

Gilgamesh and Sakura look at each other and shrug. This does not bode well for the evening.

Kariya checks his watch. “—Okay, if it’s five now, and the moon is our only point of reference…we’d better hurry up.”

Once everyone is washed—Kariya remains unconvinced that Gilgamesh bathed as quickly as possible—the sky has grown sufficiently dark that the vibrant moon can glide slowly into its rightful place. Sakura seems unable to hold still, quivering with excess energy, while Kariya seems determined to hold any excitement deep inside. So long as neither of you vomits on my person, this banquet should be mildly entertaining…

They’re just about to leave when a wave of mana explodes from the pier.

There’s a foul sickliness to it, akin to oozing pus or rotting fish. Unfortunately, Gilgamesh is all-too familiar with the “Heroic” Spirit that mana belongs to. The terrified cries of children reverberate in his mind. Caster and his Master—what are those curs up to now?

Sakura clutches at his cape, her eyes bright with determination and worry. “Archer, let’s go see what that is!”

Gilgamesh scowls. “That would be counterproductive. It is a Servant-King’s job to ensure his Master’s safety, is it not?”

Sakura doesn’t budge. “But what’s the point of being a Heroic Spirit if you don’t help people?”

“That is a philosophical discussion for another day. However…it pains me to say that Rider may share your views. Very well, we shall go.”

Kariya holds Sakura’s hand tightly as they teleport to the pier. Gilgamesh hopes that whatever awaits them isn’t too serious. The only similar mana-wave that I can recall is Humbaba, but there has not been a creature so fearsome upon this earth in a long time…perhaps it is a swarm of fish-men, or a small army of those fear-eaters Caster loves to employ…

One thing is certain: it can’t be an impossible foe.

---

They arrive on the scene beside Rider, Saber, Lancer and their Masters. The grass beneath Gilgamesh’s boots is wet with dew, and he’s surprised that they aren’t at the pier—until he sees that a small crowd of mongrels is gathering there, like lambs to the slaughter.

The Masters and Heroic Spirits are more surprised at his arrival than Gilgamesh likes. Saber keeps herself between him and her Master, no doubt remembering what happened to Kayneth.

Sola-Ui is the first to speak, a slight smile on her face. “And now we’re nine. Our odds may be better than I thought.”

While Lancer and Sola-Ui fill Kariya and Sakura in on what’s going on (their battle with Saber was apparently interrupted), Gilgamesh hones in his vision and stares up at tonight’s foe.

And up. And up.

The purplish-black, towering and tentacle’d abomination skulks distantly in the ocean, clearly intent on coming closer. It appears to have the traits of both sexes, if his eyes aren’t deceiving him. How does it mate? On second thought, I do not wish to know. There are more eyes on its person than is strictly necessary, unblinking, searching for prey. In the center is Caster, enveloped in his monster’s eldritch embrace and laughing in maniacal delight.

“…Ah. Well, this is quite vexing.”

“What do you see, Archer?” Sakura asks, leaning forward and squinting.

Gilgamesh shields her vision with a gauntleted hand. “This creature is decidedly not fit for my Master’s eyes.”

“But I can’t see it anyway!”

“Be grateful you cannot. Can you not smell it from here?”

Sakura and Kariya take a big whiff, and groans of disgust follow suit.

“At any rate,” Rider says cheerfully, “I’m surprised you came by this way, Archer—and with your Master in tow! Excellent, we’ll need all the help we can get for this battle.”

Saber’s Master, a Caucasian woman with snow-white hair and blood-red eyes, looks at Sakura with concern. “…Is this girl really a Master?”

“Um…yes,” Sakura says, holding up her Command Seals shyly. “I’m Sakura Tohsaka, what’s your name?”

Saber’s Master curtsies slightly. “My name is Irisviel von Einzbern. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Irisviel…” Sakura carefully pronounces the name, a bright smile on her face. “Your name is pretty, like you!”

“Are you charming the enemy, Sakura?” Sola-Ui teases, her hands on her hips.

Sakura blushes and reins herself back to the problem at hand. “Um, so, what’re we going to do about Caster?”

Waver sighs. “We’re not sure yet. There are people gathering on the pier, and if Caster gets at them, he’d have enough mana to come ashore. And then…”

Sakura fidgets. “Maybe we could lure the monster deeper into the ocean and attack it that way?”

Waver smiles. “You know…that could work. I mean, it’s already pretty far out there, it wouldn’t take much…”

Sola-Ui stares thoughtfully across the water, the sea breeze blowing her red hair back. “Lancer could use one of his Noble Phantasms against the creature to wound it, or destroy it if it were made of Magic. But that would require getting close to it, and that could be risky…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Saber says, stepping forward with the misplaced dignity of a martyr. “I have an Anti-Personnel Noble Phantasm that can…stop him. But I shall need reinforcements in order to get close enough.”

Rider grins and pats the side of his chariot. “I can help with that. What about you, Archer?”

Gilgamesh looks down at Sakura. I don’t trust these other Masters—they may appear kind, but they could kill her without hesitation… “I do have a treasure that could assist, at least when it comes to transport. But I’m unsure if I should bring my Master along.”

Sakura looks ready to speak, but no sound comes out. She’s noticed something behind him. Her eyes widen and her face goes pale as she points a shaking finger to the left.

Gilgamesh turns his head just in time to see Berserker screech by on a black plane, headed straight for Caster. “Excellent, the mad dog will provide a distraction. Perhaps he may defeat the abomination for us?”

Kariya’s voice is hoarse. “No, not that. It’s…it’s Sakura’s father. I think.”

Gilgamesh turns his head away from Berserker and back to the grassy hill. Finally, a proper view of this mongrel…

In the memory-dreams, Tokiomi Tohsaka is a brown-haired man of poise and quiet power, usually wearing a red suit and taller than anyone else in the room (with his wife as the closest exception). He is the ideal Mage in the flesh, but above all he is Father, who always does the right thing and can dispel any nightmares. In a child’s mind, he is untouchable.

The Tokiomi Tohsaka who stands before them now could not be farther from those memories. His hair is graying, matted and greasy. His sapphire-blue eyes are wild and marked with dark circles. His red suit has not been washed for days, possibly weeks, and smells faintly of vomit and blood. The ruby-tipped cane in his hand is supporting him more than ever, and his left leg shakes with exertion.

“…Father…?” Sakura’s voice trembles. “Father, did Berserker do this…?”

Tokiomi seems to notice her for the first time. “Sakura? What are you doing here, you should be—” After what feels like forever, his eyes focus on her Command Seals. “—No. I suspected, since you were at the Hyatt when it exploded, but…”

“Yes,” Sakura says—the forced cheer in her voice makes Gilgamesh’s teeth grind. “The Grail chose me too, Father!”

“…So I see.” Tokiomi shakily runs a hand through his hair. “This Holy Grail War is…not what I expected.”

It takes a moment for Gilgamesh to realize that he’s chuckling—it sounds more like glass shards scraping against stone. The light of the moon illuminates the tears that are trickling down his face before he brushes them harshly away. Ah, so that is where Sakura learned to hide her sadness…

Sakura doesn’t look much better—her eyes look red and watery. “Hey, Father, don’t cry…your Servant is really strong, like you…”

“Oh, yes,” Tokiomi says, his voice filled with bitter amusement. “Berserker is strong. Day and night, our—my—mind is filled with his rage and regret, and I can do nothing.”

“Maybe I can help,” Irisviel says, her voice soothing. “I’m a Healer, you see.”

Sakura looks relieved. "Can you really help?"

"I can try." Irisviel inclines her head toward Tokiomi. "May I?"

Tokiomi looks surprised for a moment, before nodding gratefully. He doesn’t move a muscle as Irisviel walks over to him and begins her inspection. No doubt he expected an attack—Mages are prone to backstabbing. And yet, this Irisviel woman seems…different from others.

Gilgamesh feels something tug at his cape and looks down at Sakura. “Yes, Sakura, what is it?”

“Archer…the only way to stop Father’s pain is to get rid of Berserker, right?” She looks at him with focused eyes, despite her tears.

“I assume so. Do you want me to destroy that mad dog?”

Sakura nods. Her fingers trace her Command Seals, which are already beginning to glow.

Gilgamesh sighs. “It pains me to say this, but I will need some assistance. I shall allow you to use one Command Seal.”

“…Okay.” She holds up her hand, and her face is illuminated in bright red light. “By the power of my Command Seal, Archer, I order you to destroy Berserker—do whatever you can to win!”

The command presses down harshly on his bones, but the ugly sensation is tempered by the burst of power given to him. “Very well. Behold your Servant-King’s might, Sakura!”

Gilgamesh summons the Vimana from the Gate of Babylon, thoroughly enjoying the awed expression on Sakura and Kariya’s faces. His golden ship puts the moon to shame, the wings the color of jade shining with power, the veins of lapis lazuli running through the pointed and curved body, and the red linen-draped throne at the center awaiting its master.

“Under normal circumstances, the rest of you mongrels shouldn’t have the honor to bear witness to this treasure…this night shall be the exception.”

Rider strokes his beard thoughtfully, a conniving smile on his face. “We shall see about that, King of Heroes!”

“Perhaps we shall, King of Conquerors. But do not raise your expectations…” He climbs aboard the Vimana and seats himself on the throne, the floor humming familiarly under his feet. He doesn’t bother wondering if he can catch up to Berserker—that is beyond certain.

“Archer,” Sakura says, an enthusiastic grin on her face, “can we fly around in this when you get back?”

“If you avoid doing anything reckless,” Archer replies, before taking off with a whoosh.

From his aerial vantage point, he sees Saber running across the water carrying a golden blade. Aha, there it is! How…mildly disappointing. The blade is a simple longsword, just Saber’s size. The light it casts illuminates the waves before her, allowing her to avoid any rocks hidden by the night. Her strides are purposeful and elegant; she avoids an incoming tentacle with ease. She cleaves through its wiggling flesh like a knife through melted cheese.

Berserker notices Saber too. With a bestial howl, he drops toward Saber, his plane creaking ominously as he goes. And here I thought you wished to fight one opponent at a time, mad dog…fine then.

Gilgamesh launches an axe, scythe, and scimitar from the Gate. They whirl through the air in a blur and slice through the plane in seconds. Saber launches herself out of the way as the plane explodes into shrapnel. I suspect she will scold me for that later—that will be amusing.

He’s so caught up in the image of Saber red-faced and fuming, that it takes him a moment to notice Berserker’s absence. Ugh, now where is he—oh.

Berserker dangles from Vimana’s tail, black and red veins oozing from his gauntlets onto the golden plating. The veins grow as he scrabbles for purchase.

Gilgamesh shudders with rage. “You dare defile my Vimana with your very presence, cur? Your impudence has sealed your doom!”

He doesn’t bother counting how many treasures he fires at Berserker. All the matters is that their blades are sharp, their speed beyond sight, and the impact bone-shattering.

Iron scrapes. Armor shatters. Berserker roars still. Through the new gaps in the mad dog’s armor, deathly-pale skin is marred with vibrant blood.

Gilgamesh pauses in his barrage to gloat. “You see, cur? Your armor is no match against me. Spare yourself further humiliation and die quickly!”

Berserker disagrees. It finally finds purchase and lunges upward like a coiled spring. It lands on Vimana’s deck with a clang; the floor shudders beneath its weight.

They are in close quarters now, and Gilgamesh’s mind races to counter. Berserker’s fists swing at his face, only just missing. Its knee slams into his waist, his armor shuddering at the impact. Damn, even with the Command Seal my strength isn’t great enough…I must be cautious.

Vimana flies out of control as they clash, narrowly missing Caster’s monster as it goes. Gilgamesh tries to summon the Gate, but Berserker is nimbler than it looks; it never gives him respite. On and on it barrages him with punches, kicks, even headbutts. All he can do is defend.

The lower half of Berserker’s helmet falls away, revealing a mouth twisted in rage bearing rows of jagged teeth. Spittle flies from its lips and spatters Gilgamesh’s cheek. He has time to brush it away before Berserker resumes his attack. Clearly keeping Sakura out of this fight was a good plan. Now, if I can wait for this mad dog to tire…

“Clearly I underestimated you,” Gilgamesh says, blocking a punch with his arm. “Yet you are the poorest excuse for a knight I have encountered! Your King must—”

Berserker tackles him. 

Gilgamesh feels his back slam against his throne. Berserker’s hand glows red and black, he’s trying to take Vimana again—

Gilgamesh grabs Berserker’s hand and forces it away. The gauntlet stops glowing, and now he’s contending with a maw of glistening teeth snapping at him. Canines graze his eyebrow. Blood trickles down his face. Disgusting. He wraps his hand around Berserker’s throat and squeezes.

Berserker snatches his arm away and twists. He can feel bone and muscle creaking ominously. Instinctively he lashes out with his knee. The pointed edge of his greave clangs against Berserker’s armored chest. Clang. Clang. The world narrows to the sound of metal against metal, and finally metal on skin.

Berserker lurches back, clutching its right ribs. It retches and defiles the Vimana with blood and bile.

“Have you at last given up?” Gilgamesh asks, noting that Sakura’s working hard to heal his damage. The pain in his arm quickly recedes. “If so, I shall make your death quick.”

Berserker’s reply is to unsheathe the sword at his side and charge.

“Such impudence,” he says, and summons Durandal, the Peerless Sword.

The resounding screech of their swords clashing echoes through the night. Gilgamesh has never been a good swordsman, but in this case he thinks he can win. He hacks and parries, back and forth, his feet gliding across the deck like a dance. Berserker presses forward, no longer growling but eerily quiet. His sword is surprisingly beautiful. What a waste.

It doesn’t take long for Berserker to get used to Durandal. Though the blade’s sharpness is eternal, Berserker’s sword seems an even match. Every clash creates sparks as bright as stars. Gilgamesh can feel the impact vibrate through Durandal’s black hilt; Only a Holy sword could achieve such a reaction. If this continues, I may find myself on the defensive again…

“You were entertaining for a time, mad dog,” Gilgamesh says, summoning Gram, the sword of the sun. “But now your fight is finished.”

Gram’s pure-white blade gleams with holy light as Gilgamesh slashes downward. It arcs through what black armor remains and sets it ablaze.  

Berserker turns to ashes without another word, with something resembling a smile on his lips. A fool to the end, yet impressive for his Class…

Gilgamesh allows himself to slump down onto his throne and catch his breath. Thankfully, it takes only a moment or two for his mind to clear. After cleaning off Gram and Durandal and returning them to the Gate, he brings Vimana’s course back to normal and goes in search of Saber.

While he was detained, Rider has joined Saber against Caster’s abomination. Unfortunately, Rider’s chariot seems to be a mere itch for Caster to scratch—multiple tentacles narrowly miss it, instead throwing it into a tailspin combined with a wave assault. Yet Rider seems undeterred, his booming laughter audible amid the commotion.

Vimana dips down to meet the chariot, carefully avoiding any tentacles.

Rider waves lazily. “I see you defeated Berserker! Well done. I was considering providing help, but these things distracted me.”

“That is fine. I needed no assistance, thanks to my Master’s Command Seal.”

“Mm, I figured. So, will you get off your golden ass and help us defeat this beast?”

“Of course. You owe me a banquet.” Gilgamesh flies off, with Rider’s laughter echoing behind him.

Saber is right where Gilgamesh left her, hacking and dodging tentacles with no end in sight. Her back is bowed, her hands tremble with exertion, blood and slime coat her face and armor, and she will soon fall. This is an endless, hopeless scuffle. Indeed, the very definition of tedious. It needs to end, immediately.

Gilgamesh brings Vimana down to Saber and holds out a hand. “Come. I believe I have the means to our victory.”

Saber looks at him suspiciously for a long moment before climbing aboard.

“Whatever your strategy is, best explain it quickly,” she says, clearly doing her best to stand tall and look unharmed.

“It’s quite simple, actually. A creature this unstoppable can only be Divine, or something akin to it. Fortunately, I have just the treasure for this occasion.”

Saber puffs up in offense. “Why did you not mention it before? That could have saved Rider and I time and mana!”

“Because it might have failed. And that mad dog was in the way. The point, Saber, is that I can entrap it long enough for you to use your Noble Phantasm. Does that seem reasonable?”

Saber looks at him, then down at her blade. She raises her head proudly and nods. “I should like to see your skill against a worthy foe.”

“Very well—though this beast is barely fit to breathe in my presence.” Gilgamesh stretches out his arms and cries out “Chains of Heaven, ensnare this vile beast!”

He doesn’t need to call out his treasure’s name, but it seems appropriate.

He lets only pride show on his face as golden chains fly out from the Gate of Babylon, and begin wrapping tightly around Caster’s creature. It roars and struggles, but the chains are long and strong. Saber gazes down with a look of quiet wonder, the sea breeze caressing her hair.

“Were you expecting something else?” Gilgamesh teases, letting his gaze fall to the elegant slope of her neck. “It is my greatest secret; to be able to view it is an honor unparalleled.”

“Oh?” Saber turns her head to look at him, a confident smile on her face. “It seems far too simple for someone like you.”

He chuckles and extends a hand. “Very well, then, let me judge your Noble Phantasm—and your worth as a Heroic Spirit.”

Saber doesn’t answer, instead facing forward and raising her blade high above her head. After a moment, as though summoned, little orbs of light begin to emerge from the shore. I would call this “copying” if they looked a little brighter… Any similarity between these orbs and Gilgamesh’s flecks vanishes quickly; the fragments of light become part of a bigger, glowing whole surrounding Saber’s blade. Somehow the sight of that blade’s light, combined with its bearer’s unyielding posture, makes him think of…

…A simple room illuminated by the first light of day. Long green hair spread out over a linen pillow. A tanned body that used to be as strong as his, but is now weak as a babe. A pair of bright green eyes that should be wild and merry, are instead barely able to open. The surprised smile of his most precious treasure…

“Gil…”

Gilgamesh blinks. Saber shifts her feet, her blade brilliant as the dawn. In this instant, she is every child’s image of a hero, every warrior’s final stand, every dream that feels real for one shining moment.

“Ex—calibur,” cries the King of Knights, and slashes downward.

The blade—the light—crackles upon Caster. The abomination he summoned struggles one last time before it is enveloped, crushed, devoured by brilliance. In an instant, the threat is no more.

Excalibur slowly powers down, and Saber sheathes it gracefully. She turns to look at him, her breathing slow and steady.

“I trust that was satisfactory,” she says, preparing to jump off Vimana.

“As a reward for that wondrous sight—”

“—I need no reward. Excuse me.”

Gilgamesh claps his hand on her shoulder. “Your Master would be distraught to see you this way. If you remove some of the grime…”

Saber sniffs and shrugs his hand aside. “You are the one worried about your appearance, Archer.” She sniffs again, and her brows crinkle in distaste. “…On second thought, I’ll take your offer. To smell this as I travel would be…obnoxious.”

He summons a white towel and bowl of rosewater for her and watches as she diligently cleans herself off. The grime and gore is washed away, leaving pink skin flushed with battle. It’s rather fascinating—Saber barely seems aware of her body, now that she’s no longer fighting; she reminds him of…But that is impossible. No one living or dead could compare to him.

Gilgamesh starts as Saber yanks him down to eye-level. He barely has time to be offended before the unused corner of the wet towel dabs at his face.

“Sakura will be very distraught if she sees you,” she says bluntly, keeping a professional distance.

“Do I look that unsightly?” he asks, suddenly aware that his heart is no longer racing with adrenaline.

“I cannot tell the difference.” She sounds serious.

“Clearly I shall have to appear as comely as possible at the banquet, then.”

Saber shrugs one shoulder and continues her ministrations. After a few moments she steps back, looking satisfied. The moon casts her in an ethereal light, and Gilgamesh soaks in the image before him. What would it take to make your eyes burn bright with joy or sadness? What wish lies within your heart?

“Thank you for your help, Archer. Farewell.” Saber steps off the Vimana and hits the water running, headed ashore.

Gilgamesh sighs and prepares to follow.

---

When Gilgamesh arrives back at the shore where the Masters are gathered, he knows something is wrong.

Irisviel is kneeling on the ground, along with Kariya. Waver, Rider, Sola-Ui, Lancer and Saber are all standing a short distance away, circling them like a wall of flesh. A white glow is in the center, pulsing rhythmically, and in that glow two bodies are illuminated, one smaller than the other.

“Stand aside,” Gilgamesh growls, and the circle parts for him.

He goes to stand beside Kariya, who looks at him with weary relief. Kariya’s loosely holding Sakura’s hand as it shivers in his grasp.

“…Hey, Archer. You know how you told Sakura not to do anything reckless? Well…”

Gilgamesh stares down at Sakura, at her ashen complexion layered with a sheen of sweat and her labored breathing. She appears unconscious. Irisviel’s hand runs along Sakura’s belly, trying to keep up with something oozing beneath her clothes and skin.

Kariya clears his throat. “She—the Vimana took a lot out of her. Or maybe it was the healing. She knew you were in trouble, and as soon as she used her magic circuits, she doubled over and started puking.”

“The Command Seal was not enough,” Gilgamesh says softly, unsure of what emotion he’s feeling. “Is she…?”

Irisviel looks at him with gentle sadness. “It wasn’t your fault, Archer. It’s something else inside her that’s causing the trouble.”

That is an obvious lie. But… His neck prickles. “It’s the worms. But we found and destroyed them all, how could—”

Kariya looks like he’s going to be sick. “There must’ve been one so small, we couldn’t see it. All it needed to do was latch onto her magic circuits and wait…”

Irisviel returns her gaze to the task at hand, her expression determined. “Don’t worry, I’ve almost—ha, there!”

With that, her fingers enter Sakura’s body and exit, holding a small, wriggling worm caked with fluids Gilgamesh could do without seeing. When it tries to burrow into her hand, Irisviel pinches her fingers together until it stills.

“Thankfully, the rest of Sakura’s magic circuits look normal,” she says calmly. “So she should be okay now.”

“…You have my gratitude. Or rather, Sakura’s.” Gilgamesh glances over at Tokiomi, who is lying next to Sakura looking relieved and tired. “I destroyed your mad cur of a Servant—you should remember I fought for my Master’s sake, not yours.”

Tokiomi laughs weakly. “That is for the best. I look forward to Sakura’s scolding.”

“Why don’t I start?” Kariya growls, with an impressive glare. “What the hell possessed you to think giving Sakura to the Matous would be a good plan?”

“Your brother Byakuya was the one who asked,” Tokiomi replies, his voice hoarse. “And since you came from the Matou family—though you don’t want to admit it—I assumed you would be there to help her.” His smile is painfully sincere. “Clearly I was right.”

Kariya looks ready to scream. He keeps his composure. “And here I thought the mana-eating worm just now was a clue. The Matou family is cursed, Tokiomi. Always has, always will be. They didn’t want to teach Sakura Magecraft. They…they wanted…”

“…Zouken wanted my body,” Sakura says, sounding groggy. “But if I don’t get the Grail, the worms’ll eat me anyway. But if I get the Grail…” Her smile is brilliant. “…If I get the Grail, I’m free.”

Tokiomi looks at her as though he’s never seen her before. “Then, Zouken is using you as a scapegoat? If you gain the Grail, he’ll take it for his own! And if you die…”

He struggles to sit up, but Irisviel gently pushes her down again. “You shouldn’t push yourself,” she admonishes, though she looks equally concerned.

Tokiomi shakes his head, looking utterly lost. “But why? Why didn’t you tell me, Sakura? I gave you one of my communication gems…it was with the ring…”

Gilgamesh looks at Kariya for some confirmation of what’s going on. All he gets is an equally out-of-the-loop shrug. So that ring is of some use. Perhaps that will come in handy.

Irisviel stands and steps back, clearly aware that a father-daughter talk is incoming. Gilgamesh notes that Saber and Lancer have wandered afield to begin their battle anew, and Sola-Ui has joined them—though she seems to be keeping an eye on Sakura too. Rider and his Master look decidedly adrift.

Sakura rolls over onto her side, wincing in pain. “All I had in my bag was the ring and the bloodstones. I’ve got them right here.” She scowls. “Maybe Zouken did go through my bag, and stole the other gem!”

“Let’s hope that isn’t the case.” Tokiomi’s eyes gleam with renewed hope. “Oh, the bloodstones! No doubt those were Rin’s doing. Here, I want to show you something. Hand one to me.”

Reluctantly, Sakura digs through her pockets and hands him a bloodstone, round and gleaming. Tokiomi takes it from her carefully—whether he’s treating her or the stone like fragile lace is unclear, but intriguing. Gilgamesh watches as Tokiomi runs his finger across the stone, muttering to himself. His eyes narrow, as though he’s trying to interpret a foreign language.

Kariya snickers. “Can’t remember your own spell, Tokiomi? Your luck really is the worst.”

“Mm-hmm,” Tokiomi replies vaguely. “At least I have spells to remember, Kariya.”

Gilgamesh suspects these two mongrels have spent their fleeting lives in constant competition, and hasn’t the patience to witness it further. “You two can strut about like cockerels later. I, for one, wish to know what use this rock will have for us.”

Sakura nods, looking as annoyed and tired as he feels.

“—Excellent, I have it.” Tokiomi hands the stone back to Sakura. “This is an offensive spell—it’s very rare for a bloodstone. When you say ‘Blitz frei’ and throw the stone, it will shatter in a burst of light and sound, like a thunderclap. It will disorient your opponent and allow you to escape.” He chuckles. “This was Rin’s. Now, the other?”

The exchange goes a little more smoothly this time. Sakura almost seems to trust her father, though Gilgamesh notes that she’s still physically closer to him and Kariya. There’s a small but obvious gap between where daughter and father lie.

Tokiomi understands the spell immediately—clearly it’s his. “This one is for injuries, bleeding specifically. When you press this against the wound and say ‘Lassen Sie diese Blut halt’, it will stop the bleeding. It won’t heal the wound completely, however—that is best left to someone with Healing Magecraft, or a doctor. Can you say the incantation for me?”

Sakura stutters over the words at first, but after two more tries she says it near-flawlessly. Tokiomi looks pleased when he hands the bloodstone back.

Sakura pockets the gems and looks at her father with grim eyes. Clearly she’s remembered his biggest mistake.

Tokiomi winces. “Sakura, I’m—”

“You gave me away. You didn’t even ask why they wanted me.”

“I wanted you to be happy—how could you be, when you and Rin both had such talent, and only one of you could prosper?” It’s clear he’s trying to keep calm and distant, but that’s impossible now.

“I don’t care about talent,” Sakura snaps. “I just wanted to stay with you! I could—I could go to regular school, and be like Uncle Kariya. That’d be fine! I learned Magecraft because I liked being with you. I liked it when you told me stories, and made me pretty toys, and helped me make fairy-forts. You and Mother, you were the strongest people ever, and if I could be safe with you…” She shakes her head. “And then you threw me away, like trash. I…I thought I was your princess too, but I guess I’m a spare…”

Tokiomi looks utterly distraught. “Oh, no, Sakura, that’s not true. If I had known, if I had suspected, I would have rescued you. I didn’t want you to be”—he shudders—“eaten. I wanted you to be able to carry on the Tohsaka legacy, to be happy and strong like Rin will be.”

“And then what, Father? You’d send me somewhere else?”

“…Do you want me to lie? I told you long ago, there is no easy path to happiness for a Mage family. Happiness is hard-won, and something to be cherished—it could leave any second. And besides…I didn’t want you to witness the Holy Grail War. Because…”

Tokiomi pauses, as though considering his words carefully. Sakura’s eyes are wide and unblinking, and her tiny body is curled like a spring.

“…Because, in order for me to truly fulfill the Tohsaka family will…I need to enter the Grail—enter Akasha—and I may not return. I needed some sense that you, Rin and your mother had a future before I left.”

Angry tears fill Sakura’s eyes and trickle down her cheeks. “Fine,” she spits. “Let the Grail eat you, see if I care.”

With an unsteady hand she chucks the healing bloodstone at Tokiomi’s face. He winces, but doesn’t protest.  

“We need to leave now, Sakura,” Gilgamesh says softly, not wanting to admit how tired he feels.

Sakura nods and carefully gets to her feet, pointedly not looking at Tokiomi. She takes Kariya’s hand and squeezes, her face drawn and weary. Underneath that tired look Gilgamesh can see anger cooling behind her eyes.

“The moon is too bright,” Sakura says, with a slight tremble in her voice when they arrive at their base.

“Yeah. We should go to bed.” Kariya walks with her to the tent, still holding her hand.

Gilgamesh keeps his gaze firmly on the night sky and says nothing.

Chapter Text

Sakura covers her mouth with her hand to muffle her scared cry. Outside the tent, she can hear the wind whistling eerily through the trees. She tries and fails to calm her pounding heart.

Noises clatter and screech in her head, though the nightmare is over. The sound of Berserker’s roars mixing with Tokiomi’s cries of pain…the sound of Archer’s unending howl of misery as the person who could only be his precious companion turned to mud in his arms…the sound of golden chains twisting themselves around a woman who looked just like Archer…her throat and eyes burn and only make things worse. But I won’t cry. That won’t help anybody.

A pathetic whimper bursts from her throat despite herself, and Kariya snaps awake.

“Sakura, you okay?” He reaches down from the big bed to touch her hand.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, knowing she sounds miserable. “Just—just go to sleep…”

“No way. Come on up.” He scoots over to give her room. “Tell me what happened—maybe I can help.”

Reluctantly, she climbs up and curls up beside him, comforted by how calm and still he is. The half-asleep smile on his face makes her heart a little lighter.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You’ll have bad dreams too.”

“That’s fine. Knowing it was a nightmare is good enough.” Kariya chuckles. “And don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay.” She fidgets and carefully avoids accidentally kneeing him in the belly.

She tries not to wake Archer up with all this moving around, but unfortunately he groans and lifts his head sleepily over Kariya’s shoulder. He blinks slowly at her, the way a lion would.

“Um…” She waves at him. “H-Hello…? Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be foolish.” He yawns. “Know this: dreams have no power over you once you wake.”

Sakura nods and repeats his words in her mind. She hopes they’ll take root and replace the scary sounds. “Thanks, Archer.”

Archer nods and goes back to sleep. She can feel the bed move with his slow breathing. At least he doesn’t snore…

Kariya strokes her hair in a slow, steady rhythm. “Do you want me to sing a lullaby to you?”

She smiles at the thought. “Yes, please.”

He smiles back and begins to hum. It’s a soft, lilting melody without words, but it brings to mind geese flying against the moon, the parents guiding the goslings home. His cool fingers gentle against her hair and the soothing sound of his humming and heartbeat make her eyes droop, then sink.

This time, she dreams of wandering aimlessly through her parents’ house with Rin and Aoi, searching for something, never finding it, and being content.  

---

Sakura sits in front of the blazing campfire and watches the wood blacken and hiss as the smoke curls lazily upward to meet the rising sun. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone home so soon after all. Miss Einzbern could have a cure for sad dreams…  

“Hey, Sakura? Have you finished your milk?” Kariya asks, as he finishes off his cup.

“Huh? Um, yes,” she says, and places her empty earthen cup on the grassy ground. It’s whisked away into Archer’s treasury a moment later. Maybe one day I’ll get used to that…

The park is brilliant and welcoming in the light of the dawn. The dew on the grass catches the light and holds it like a bauble, before dripping off the blade with a plip. When she was lived with her parents, morning smelled like fresh linen and boiling tea; here it smells like burning wood and fresh-cut grass.

“I feel a little bad that we left without asking Rider about the banquet,” Kariya says before stretching his black turtleneck-clad arms above his head. “But then again, I don’t think any of us were in the mood to party.”

“Indeed,” Archer says as he lazily strolls out of the tent, wearing a white tunic that reaches his knees. He rubs his eyes with the speed of a turtle. “Then again, perhaps that could have saved us from our useless attempts at pleasant dreams.”

“We still slept, though, right?” Sakura tries to sound upbeat and cheerful, but her words ring false in her ears.

Kariya chuckles. “I suppose that counts for something.”

Archer looks at Sakura thoughtfully for a long moment before asking “Do you wish to talk about your nightmare now?”

“Um…not now. I don’t really remember much.”

He doesn’t seem to believe her.

Fine, I’ll distract you. “What did you dream about, Archer?”

“…I dreamt of the Forest of Cedars my companion and I once ventured through.” He shudders. “Black mud was oozing down the forest paths, twisting everything it touched.”

She sighs. “I want that dream.”

Archer mimes tossing something to her. “Very well, it is yours. No doubt you could tease a story from its strange weave.”

Kariya grins at him. “You really are half-asleep. You sure you don’t want some coffee?”

“Ugh, no. Whoever invented that foul concoction had plans for the eradication of taste. Or, alternatively, life as we know it.”

Sakura giggles and wonders if Kariya plans to trick Archer into trying a sweeter kind of coffee. Then again, Uncle Kariya had to try every blend ever before he found one Mother and Father liked…

The moment she realizes she thought of Tokiomi again, she quickly tries to distract herself. If Archer and Kariya see her discomfort, she doesn’t notice.

“Archer, you saw Saber’s Noble Phantasm, right? What’d it look like—was it pretty like her?”

Archer’s eyes glaze over before he answers, a strange softness in his voice: “She was awash in golden light, and her sword shone like a beacon in a dark sea. She destroyed Caster’s monster in one strike. ‘Beautiful’ would be an appropriate word for it, yes, as well as ‘powerful’. It reminded me of bygone times—but many minor details seem to, these days.”

“Getting sentimental in your old age?”

“Kariya, when the day comes that I do become a quivering heap of nostalgia and unrequited romance on par with you, it will be your solemn duty to defend your title.”

“A simple ‘no’ would’ve been fine, you know.”

While they snipe at each other, Sakura tries to picture what Saber’s brilliant sword must have looked like. As images of dramatic gestures and brave speeches defying Caster’s grossness dance in her head, she finds herself increasingly disappointed that she missed it. Maybe I can ask Saber to show it to me at the banquet…if Rider hasn’t cancelled it.

She continues thinking about last night’s battle as she takes a bath in vanilla-scented water (“It will calm your mind,” Archer suggests) in a golden tub the size of a Jacuzzi. The water is full of nutrients, apparently, and will make her feel better. She stares up at the tent’s sun-bathed ceiling, and tries not to think of the panic that gripped her when the taste of copper and bile rose up her throat, or the way the world became a hazy white as she fell to her knees.

I tried to help Archer, and I couldn’t…what kind of ‘Master’ would do that? She’s not sure what bothers her more, that Archer nearly vanished or she almost died.

She scrubs her face with more force than necessary, her skin tingling with a strange mix of comfort and discomfort as the soft water touches her skin. I shouldn’t think that way! He’s safe, Uncle Kariya’s safe, and I’m safe. That’s what matters now. And… She rests her hand over her heart, then down to her belly. …I don’t hurt inside anymore. I can do more Magecraft now, so Archer and Uncle Kariya won’t have to get hurt protecting me.

The water does its work: she actually dozes off and only wakes up after nearly drowning.

After getting all the water out of her nose and mouth, Sakura climbs out of the tub and puts on the white blouse and pink shorts Archer made for her. Oh, the shorts look like cherry blossoms! She spins around in delight and watches the petal-shapes bounce around her knees.

She tries not to wonder if these beautiful gifts will vanish along with Archer when the Grail War is done. After all, he promised he’d do his best to stay by her side.

As she prepares to leave the tent and tell Kariya it’s his turn, she hears a familiar rumbling voice outside. There’s only one person that voice could belong to. The sound of oxen lowing seals the deal.

After making sure she looks presentable, she slowly unzips the tent flap with a hiss that goes on forever. Her heart pounds with excitement as she goes out to meet Rider.

“So that’s where you were hiding!” Rider booms from behind her Bounded Field, looking like he had a great night’s sleep. There are no bags under his eyes, and Sakura feels more than a little jealous. “I was just talking to Archer here about having the banquet this morning instead!”

She scratches her head. “Um, but didn’t you want to see the moon?”

“I can see the moon any evening. What I don’t see very often are you and your Uncle—especially since you only recently recovered!”

“…So you were worried about me?”

Rider shrugs and grins. “It’s not every day you see a daughter defend her happiness against her own father, you know. That must have taken a lot out of you.”

Sakura wants to say Of course not and smile, but it’s obvious that won’t work on a man like Rider. She nods instead.

“Luckily, girl, there is a solution to your problem.” Rider stretches out his arms and bellows jovially “All problems seem small when you feast with friends!”

A flock of birds scatter in fright at the sound. Rider doesn’t seem to notice. He’s looking at her expectantly, in a way that reminds her of Rin. It puts her at ease, despite his…loudness.

Archer rolls his eyes. “Do not be so presumptuous, King of Conquerors. Did you forget that we have been fighting for our lives and wishes?”

“Hmm? No, not at all! But that does not mean we can’t be friends—many alliances have been forged between enemies, especially if there’s a bigger threat looming.”

Sakura thinks she knows what Rider means, but she wants to make sure. “Um, do you mean Zouken?”

“Perhaps. He may be too cowardly to come out and claim the Grail himself. But if he does come, well, it’s clear to me he cannot have it! A man who uses children as his pawns is no player at all.”

Archer smiles wryly. “I see. Then, if he used an adult as his pawn in this War, it would be acceptable?”

Rider shrugs. “That would depend on the adult.”

“Clearly,” Archer says, resting one hand on his hip, “this conversation will have to continue at the banquet. Are you intending to hold it soon?”

“Why, yes! At this rate, we’ll never have the chance if I host it at night.”

“Very well. Kariya and I will need to prepare—Sakura appears ready.”

“That’s fine. I shall see you at the Einzbern castle—it’s in that huge forest near the edge of Fuyuki, do you remember?”

“The place Caster profaned with his presence? That is acceptable.” Archer smiles at Sakura. “Now you will be able to explore a castle. Does that intrigue you?”

Sakura’s so excited she can’t speak. She nods instead. Her heart feels a little lighter already.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.” Rider heads back to his chariot, waving as he goes. “You have an hour to prepare, don’t be late!”

Sakura rushes off to find Kariya, her mind reeling with possibilities.

---

After Archer and Kariya are cleaned and clothed (Archer had to be convinced to wear his golden armor instead of the blue-and-silver suit with noodle-like epaulets he’d planned to wear), Sakura finds herself wondering if her parents felt this nervous whenever they went to parties. What if we’re late? What if we go to the wrong place? What if I get lost trying to find the bathroom? Her worries mesh with her excitement, making her a wound-up ball of jitters even as they teleport to Einzbern Castle.

Once they arrive in the courtyard, she’s immediately distracted. She turns around to view the sunlit brownstone walls that surround them, and a beautiful circular garden of white flowers that look like stars. This place looks like The Beast’s garden! She half-expects to see enchanted objects to come and escort them to their seats. What she sees instead is Miss Irisviel, Waver, Saber and Rider all sitting in the center of the courtyard, with a hefty breakfast spread between them.

“You made it, excellent!” says Rider, as he enthusiastically waves them over. “Sit, sit. We were just talking about you.”

“Gossip is unsightly,” Archer says dryly, as he sits down across from Rider and Saber. “You had best tell us how we figured into your conversation.”

Saber turns her unreadable look over to Sakura and Kariya. She smiles politely and inclines her head. “I’m pleased to see you’re in good health, Lady Sakura.”

“U-um, thanks!” Her heart skips.

Miss Irisviel laughs softly and gestures to the breakfast spread. “Come over and eat; we have fresh fruit, warm pastries, all sorts of eggs…”

The delicious aroma draws Sakura like a flame. While Kariya loads food onto their plates (she’s never seen some of these omelettes before), Rider casually explains the talk they missed.

“Well, since our agreement was that our truce would continue until our Masters were capable of challenging each other, we were just talking about how ‘challenge’ should be defined. Since the boy here isn’t really suited for combat, and the girl probably wouldn’t be in fit state to fight, we needed to find another option.”

Saber adds with a sad smile “Last night, before I defeated Lancer, he told me that his Master and Sakura had a battle of riddles instead of strength. It seemed like an appropriate compromise.”

Kariya makes a similar expression. “So he got that duel he wanted after all, huh?”

“Yes. He was truly a worthy opponent, honorable to the end. His Master has left for England, since she had no wish to grant—and apparently she heard news of her missing brother.”

The look on Saber’s face suggests that she and Irisviel had ensured Miss Sola-Ui didn’t have any problems leaving Fuyuki, which makes Sakura sigh with relief. Hopefully that scary man didn’t sneak up on her…

“Kariya, why are you going back there?” Archer pats a space on his left, the soft smack echoing. “Sit here, by me. You as well, Sakura.”

Sakura gets the feeling this isn’t just courtesy, and wonders what he’s playing at. She decides she’ll ask him later.

Someone clears their throat. She blinks and realizes she was lost in thought, halfway back to where Archer’s seated. Face hot with embarrassment, she apologizes and asks what she missed.

Waver walks over on his gangly legs and crouches down to her level. “I know I gave a bad impression when we met, but…do you want to have a go at challenging me to a riddle battle? I’ll play fair. Whoever gets three riddles correctly wins, does that sound good?”

Sakura thinks it over for a moment before shaking on it. “Okay. I won’t go easy on you!”

He laughs. “Then I won’t either!”

Saber lets out a thoughtful hum and says “This looks to be interesting. Would you two mind having an audience?”

Sakura’s gripped by stage fright for a moment. She shakes it away. Saber, Rider and Archer have probably seen billions of entertainers, why bother worrying? “Um…I guess it’s okay. What do you think, Waver?”

“It’s fine.” He sits down opposite her, and after setting her plate down she sits too. “You first.”

She’s aware that she’s being watched, maybe judged, but she keeps herself calm. This is my strength. If I play to my strengths, I can win!

After she thinks of the hardest riddle she can remember, she asks: “What stands on one leg with its heart in its head?”

Waver’s baffled expression is priceless, and judging by the muffled cough she just heard Kariya remembers this one. Rin nearly tore her hair out when Uncle Kariya told her the answer…

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get that reaction from Waver. Instead he says “…A cabbage?”

Sakura nods and tries not to feel disappointed.

Waver looks very pleased with himself. “I point without fingers, I strike without arms, and I talk without a mouth. What am I?”

“A clock!”

“Sh—Darn, you got it.”

“Hmm…how about this one: What can jump higher than a mountain?”

Waver looks like he’s about to answer, then stops. He rubs his chin thoughtfully in a way that reminds her of Rider. After a very long pause, he snaps his fingers. “Hey, wait, mountains can’t jump! ‘Anything’ could qualify, right?”

Sakura laughs delightedly. “That’s right. Anything at all!”

“Okay, then: Whoever makes me can hear me, but nobody else can. What am I?”

She turns the riddle over in her mind, thankful there isn’t a time limit.

With clenched fists, she shyly replies “…An idea?”

Waver whistles. “Close. Want to try again?”

Sakura sighs and shakes her head in defeat. “Can you tell me what it is?”

“The answer was ‘a thought’. Good try, though!”

She sighs again and looks up at the sky. She thinks of another riddle: “I can run, but not walk. Wherever we go, you’re behind me. What am I?”

She’s pleased to see that she’s stumped him again—at least, she thinks so. It’s interesting; she doesn’t feel smug about being ahead of him, just pleased. Probably because this isn’t a life-or-death match…

“Is it…your eyes?”

“Nope. It sounds like it could be, though.”

“Your ears?”

“Nope, sorry.” Can ears run…?

Waver mumbles something under his breath in frustration before throwing up his hands. “I can’t think of anything else, what is it?”

She giggles and points to her nose.

Waver’s howl of disbelief is nearly drowned out by Rider’s laughter and words of encouragement: “You two are neck and neck, boy, don’t give up now!”

“You can do it!” Kariya cheers.

Archer calls “You are in high form, Sakura! Do your best!”

Sakura notes that she and Waver are both flushed with pride. She pretends they’ll always have their Servants to support them—it’s easier than wondering how long their time together will last.

Waver clears his throat and says his final riddle: “I have rivers without fish, roads without travelers, deserts without heat and snowy lands without cold. I have canyons without depth and mountains without height. What am I?”

It’s at this moment Sakura’s mind grows blank. She asks Waver to repeat the riddle, which he gladly does, in a way that lets her hear the words and not feel stupid. It feels like it takes forever for her to understand, and even longer for her to think of an answer. She tries not to think of their audience, but it’s difficult.

Sakura finally thinks of the answer: “A book!”

“…No, sorry. Want to try again?”

She wants to, but ultimately she’s stumped. “Sorry, I give up. What is it?”

“A map.”

Sakura laughs and shakes his hand. “You win. Congratulations!”

Waver beams. “You were a great opponent.”

Kariya leads the applause, looking very proud despite her loss. Archer nods in approval, while Saber and Irisviel smile warmly.

Rider is less subdued in his congratulations. Waver gets a stupendous bear hug that lifts him straight off the ground.

“Now that that score is settled,” Archer says, gesturing lazily to Sakura to come sit by him, “I’m very curious about my fellow Kings’ reasons for desiring a dubious object like the Grail. You must have a worthy reason to attempt to steal from me, after all.”

Sakura walks over with her plate, feeling equally curious. Waver sits beside Rider, his expression unsure.

Rider doesn’t appear fazed. “Personally, I was hoping I could borrow it from you. I promise to return it after I’m finished—is that fair?”

Archer chuckles. “Consider your request denied—especially since you neglected to tell me why you desire the Grail so.”

“Ouch. Alright, alright. My wish is…” Rider pauses and stares down at his cup. He glances around in a way that reminds Sakura of a boy caught trying to steal candy.

“Your wish can’t possibly be that embarrassing,” says Saber, in a voice both stern and curious. “Go on, Rider, say it.”

Rider sighs and looks Archer dead in the eye, despite a slight flush of embarrassment. “I wish…to be reincarnated.”

Waver lets out a flabbergasted squawk. “Wait, what? I thought you wanted to conquer the world?”

Rider flicks his forehead, and Sakura watches in awe as Waver flops onto his back on impact. That’s amazing…and a little scary!

She wants to go see if he’s alright, but clearly Waver’s tougher than he looks, as he sits up and rubs his forehead grumpily.

“Whatever, do what you want,” she hears him mutter, and she’s sharply reminded of Kariya.

Rider continues, as though there was no interruption: “When I conquer the world, it will be my victory, without any Magic! We are Heroic Spirits, given this second chance to live at the cost of our freedom. And this Holy Grail War will soon end, meaning that one way or another, we’ll vanish.” He slams his fist onto his thigh. “I refuse to accept that; a brief visit of this strange, fascinating era isn’t enough! I’ll wish for a body, healthy and strong, and then I shall set about my conquest.”

Sakura eats while she absorbs Rider’s words. She hears Archer mock Rider’s wish as simple, and while she wants to chastise him for being mean, Rider’s laughter and amused retort do the job for her. And besides, her mouth is too full of crispy egg and savory vegetables for her to say anything.

“Um,” Sakura says after swallowing, “Can I…ask you a question, Rider?”

“Of course! Do my words inspire you? Do you wish to join me in my quest?”

“Well—no thank you. Sorry. But…why do you want to conquer the world? I mean, it sounds like you’d be working all the time, and if you ruled everything, you’d have nobody to fight, and since you like fighting…wouldn’t that be boring?”

Rider stares at her blankly. Then he laughs loud and long. “From the mouths of babes, eh? Well, girl, the answer is simple: I wish to have as many friends as I can hold in my heart. No other treasure could compare to that. But, you see, the world is so large, and split into countries, that clearly the only way to have as many friends as I desire is to crush those boundaries! In truth, I enjoy victory without fighting as much as victory through fighting. If the end result is that I have more friends than I had before, I am content. Do you see?”

Sakura thinks she understands, so she nods. “Thank you for explaining, Mr. Rider.”

Archer nods, looking amused. “I suppose that is acceptable. Foolish, but acceptable.”

Saber doesn’t look like she understands at all. “Rider, that wish…it’s selfish, the desire of a tyrant! What if those you fight don’t wish to be your ‘friends’? What then? And to treat people as treasures to obtain…”

Rider shrugs. “If those I face don’t wish to join me, that is fine—but now we’re enemies henceforth. That’s all. And if you don’t view people as admirable treasures, how do you view them?”

Saber’s brows furrow. “I treat people as people. People to protect, if they are my subjects and loved ones, and people to defend against, if they are my enemies. Does that satisfy you?”

Sakura frowns. Doesn’t that still make people things…?

“Hrm…I suppose.” Rider sips from his cup and sets it down with a clink. “Very well, Saber, what’s your wish?”

“I wish to rewrite my legacy, from the day I first removed Caliburn from the Stone.”

Sakura hears Kariya gasp at the same time she does. She nearly drops her fork. She finds herself looking at Saber in a different light. So Saber is…King Arthur?

She remembers Kariya gave her and Rin a book about Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table one year, a beautiful book bound in green leather with the most gorgeous oil paintings; the stories told of heroic quests, brave knights succumbing to their flaws (or rising above them), and the fall of a shining kingdom despite King Arthur’s efforts. When she and Rin thought of heroes, their thoughts eventually turned to the Knights of the Round Table, true, strong and kind.

“But…but, Saber…if you do that…”

Sakura realizes her throat is hot and itchy. She doesn’t cry. “If you don’t get the Sword…what’ll happen to the people you helped, or your knights? They could get hurt all over again!”

Saber’s smile is gentle and warm. “Have no fear. I wish only to have the opportunity to fix my rule, not the people saved or unwittingly harmed the first time.”

“…Why do you think you messed up?”

“As King, my duty was to sacrifice myself—my life—for my people. A King must uphold all virtues: truth, faith, hope, valor, selfless love, moderation, loyalty, and honor. And despite my efforts, I was unable to do so. This time, my people will see a King who will be able to accept and live with the truth, who will ensure her wife and knights’ loyalty, and will be truly selfless in her—his love of Britain and its people. This way, I’ll no longer have any regrets.”

Archer’s laughter fills the air, harsh and mocking. “You call yourself a King of Knights…and you have regrets? Come now, Saber, this must be a lie! What is your real wish?”

Saber’s mouth curls into a snarl. “A lie? What do you take me for, Archer?”

He laughs again. “Is it not obvious? I take you for a fool with an inflated sense of her flaws.”

The slap of Kariya facepalming echoes in the silence that follows Archer’s words. Sakura feels similarly.

She folds her arms over her chest. “Archer, don’t be mean! You’re a King, not a bully.”

Rider chuckles and says “There are some who would say a bully and a King are one and the same, girl.”

Sakura sniffs. “Then they’re dumb. You’re all better than that…at least, I think so.”

Archer sneers. “But my analysis is correct.”

“But me and Saber don’t get what you’re saying!”

He sighs. “I suppose you have a point. Very well. Saber, you say that you must exemplify all your country’s virtues—an admirable goal, I must admit. But who could possibly embody every virtue while still living their life—while still being human, for that matter? Even I, King of All Kings, cannot claim that feat.”

Saber picks up her cup. “Then you slacked in your duty.” She drinks deeply, then rests the cup on her lap.

“By your estimation, perhaps. But who is that duty for? After all, a King’s country is his property, and property cannot feel scorn or admiration. And Kings and their subjects lead separate lives by necessity—how can they know of your so-called ‘flaws’ without you flaunting them to all and sundry? Speaking of which, I note that ‘justice’ is absent from those virtues you mentioned. Why?”

Saber’s fingers run absently along the cup. “To be just is an action, not a virtue. The virtues feed into the duty.”

“True…to a point. Justice is itself a virtue; as King you must punish according to the crime, and therefore you must be able to see the true reasons behind the crime, and the true crime involved. You must have faith in your subject’s goodness and wickedness alike. And above all, you must understand the laws you merit out and the consequences of those laws.”

Sakura tries to understand what Archer’s saying, but it’s all flying over her head. When Rider jumps in, talking about how Kings should be both terrible and admirable in their people’s eyes, Sakura finds herself struggling further. In stories, Kings and Queens are either good and fair or bad and cruel…and even then, their people just live their lives like they don’t exist. So why does all this matter?

As Archer, Rider and Saber continue their heated debate, Sakura’s mind wanders. She thinks of the book about the Holy Grail War Kariya read to her a year ago (it feels like ages since then), and how the Grail could only choose truly Heroic Spirits, fair and strong and good. That seems to be true, but…

…But Caster summoned that huge monster, and was going to eat people. And Berserker made Father sick. How could they be good?

She tries to politely interrupt and ask the Heroic Spirits what they think, but now they’re debating even more complicated parts of Kingship, and she knows she’ll never get a word in. Disgruntled, she finishes her breakfast and carries the plate and silverware over to the dirty stack.

Just as she finishes with that (after trying very hard to not make a clatter), she feels a light touch on her arm.

She whips her head around to see not Kariya, but Irisviel. “They’re very lively this morning, aren’t they?” she asks gently, her white hair swaying in the breeze. “Why don’t you and I take a little walk, since it looks like they’ll be at it for awhile?”

Sakura wants to ask about Waver and Kariya, but she’s surprised to see that they’re both listening intently to the debate, clearly understanding perfectly. I’ll ask Uncle Kariya about it later, then. He won’t use big words and not explain what they mean.

“Okay,” Sakura whispers.

Irisviel smiles and takes her hand.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, past the beautiful blue flowers and into the halls that surround the courtyard—far enough to not have to pretend to listen to the debate, yet close enough to be within earshot if any trouble happens. She knows Kariya and Archer’ll be worried if they can’t see me. She’s very smart…

Sakura starts as she feels Irisviel’s long fingers brush against her Command Seals. It’s not a creepy touch, but it’s not accidental either, judging by the sad look in her beautiful red eyes. She slides her hand free, as if to reassure Sakura. It almost works.

“Sakura…may I ask you something?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Since we now know Saber and Rider’s wishes…what would you wish on the Grail?”

She’s been dreading this question. She stares down at the ground and admires the smooth, grey-and-white speckled stone beneath their feet. Thankfully, Irisviel doesn’t seem to want an answer right away.

“…Well, I guess if I had to choose one wish…it’d be that Archer could stay with me longer. Not forever, but…well…”

Irisviel’s gentle laugh is as beautiful as her smile. “Don’t worry, I understand! But, you know, you don’t really need the Grail for that wish to come true.”

Her heart drums in excitement. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course! Since Archer’s a Heroic Spirit, you can make another contract—but you wouldn’t be able to use the Grail as the stabilizing source. It would have to be you who maintains Archer’s form. That would be difficult, but it wouldn’t be impossible.”

It feels like a whole world of possibilities has opened up. Sakura absorbs this news silently, smiling so widely her cheeks start to hurt. Archer will be so happy when he hears this! Or at least, I think he’ll be happy…Uncle Kariya might complain a little, though, but that’s okay…

“I guess,” she says slowly, “this means I have to think of a new wish, right?”

“You don’t have to right away, if you don’t want to.”

“Good. Um…Irisviel?”

“Yes?”

“Do you find it weird that the Holy Grail summoned Caster? I-I mean, he summoned that monster at the Mion River, and it was going to hurt people! And Berserker…if the Grail’s supposed to only summon Heroes, then why—”

Before Sakura can say any more, she finds herself enveloped in a gentle hug. She feels Irisviel’s hair brushing against her neck and back, and can only think of Aoi.

“Oh, Sakura…I understand, this must be so strange to you. Sometimes Heroic Spirits don’t deal well with the era they’ve been summoned in. It’s so different from their time that they don’t know how to handle it. And as for Berserker…he couldn’t help what Class he was, that was beyond his control. And with the Mad Enhancement, he probably didn’t know he was hurting your father. Does that make him a bad person?”

Sakura sniffles and shakes her head.

“That’s right. And besides, since Berserker is gone and I used my Healing Magecraft, your father is on the mend. There’s no need to worry about him any more.”

“I’m not worried, I’m angry,” she says, her voice muffled by Irisviel’s red silk shirt.

Irisviel’s body trembles as she laughs. “I suppose there’s no helping that. Since I’m an only child—as is my daughter, Illya—I’ve never had to deal with what you’ve gone through. But I can say that I hope you and your family can remain together after this War is over.”

“…Thanks, Miss Irisviel.”

After another comforting squeeze, Irisviel steps back to give Sakura her space. Sakura notices that her hands are curled a little unnaturally, but says nothing. She doesn’t want to upset a woman so gentle, after all.

Irisviel looks down at her thoughtfully. “You know, now that I think about it…it is odd that someone like Caster was summoned. A Heroic Spirit wouldn’t kidnap children, after all…”

Sakura isn’t too surprised. “So the Grail made a mistake, right?”

“Perhaps, but…the Grail is omnipotent, it should know on instinct which Heroic Spirits to summon. And it’s never made a mistake before…”

“Even if it didn’t mess up before, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t. That’s what Mother or Miss Sola-Ui would say.”

Irisviel takes Sakura by the hand again and leads her back to the courtyard. “We need to tell everyone about this. This could be important!”

---

When they return to the courtyard, an interruption is clearly needed.

Saber’s golden blade is pointed at Archer’s throat, while Archer’s silver-and-emerald halberd rests near her side. Rider looks too amused at the imminent battle to stop them. Thankfully, Waver and Kariya are out of harms way, with several flowerbeds between them and the Servants.

“What happened, Uncle Kariya?”

He chuckles nervously. “Well, Rider just called Saber a little girl, and Archer…he laughed at her anger.”

Sakura sighs in disappointment. “I thought he listened to me!”

Archer smirks—clearly he heard her. “On the contrary, I did. But you were elsewhere, and my pride was at stake—”

“You mean my pride,” Saber says, her voice cold and brittle. “You and Rider were the ones insulting me.”

“I didn’t intend to insult you,” interrupts Rider. “My plan was to convince you to abandon the martyr’s life you lead.”

“If I’m to be called a martyr for protecting others, I will gladly take that title. Perhaps I will wish for something else—but my people’s happiness is still my highest priority.”

Rider lets out a gusty sigh and shrugs. “I guess I’ll let you carry that mantle, then. You seem determined enough.”

Archer’s Gate collects his halberd, and he strolls over to Kariya and Sakura. “Indeed, why argue over such trivialities? Saber, I believe your path is the correct one—for you, that is. I will enjoy seeing your fight to the end.”

Saber smiles wryly. “Then you will give me the Grail?”

“Yes…if you become one of my subjects, as Sakura and Kariya have.”

Rider laughs derisively. “From your words earlier, I thought getting that status would be nearly impossible!”

Archer laughs back—it’s an unpleasant sound. “You were correct the first time. Tell me, how did your Master summon you?”

“…Oh, I see. So that’s how it is. Well, the boy stole my relic from that other Master, Kayneth—the one you killed. He risked life, limb and reputation to participate in this Holy Grail War, as a conqueror should!”

Archer inclines his head to Waver (who Sakura notes looks torn between embarrassment and gratitude). “That sounds worthy of a short tale or two. Fair enough.” He looks to Saber. “And what of your Master?”

“Go ahead,” Irisviel urges gently, when Saber looks unsure.

“…Very well. My Master excavated Excalibur from my final resting place at Cornwall. The process took years, but she never gave up. What I find most noteworthy is that she never once defiled my grave, though she could have if desperation overruled her sense. Still, with hard work and patience, she found Excalibur and used it to summon me.” Saber looks at Irisviel fondly. “I could not ask for a better Master.”

Irisviel beams with happiness, her cheeks flushed with delight. “Oh, Saber…!”

Sakura suspects that what Saber said isn’t quite true, but seeing Irisviel so happy makes her reconsider. They’re really a perfect team…

Archer nods. “Hmm, I see. A pleasant beginning for a Master-Servant partnership—which is a rare thing for us.”

“Now it’s your turn, Archer,” Rider says, still looking unconvinced. “But can you top that?”

“Surely you mean ‘can Sakura top that’,” Archer replies coldly. “And I believe she can. Her father gave her to the Matou family to serve as their heir, and be instructed in Magecraft. Instead, she found herself trapped in the bowels of the mansion, nearly drowning in Mana-draining worms. After two days of this torment, the Grail bestowed Command Seals on her, saving her from a cruel un-life. But even before those Command Seals appeared, she fought the worms with all her power.”

“I figured that was the case,” Rider says. His expression is uncharacteristically gloomy. “What then?”

Sakura takes up the thread of the story, not wanting to be left out. She tells of how she made her deal with Zouken, how she trained tirelessly, how her parents had hidden some gems for her to use, and how even when her Magic Circuits burned from the strain, she never let Zouken see her cry.

She runs out of breath, and Archer takes her place.

“When Zouken wanted her to summon me at midnight—the usual time for a summoning, but no time for a weary child to be awake without mishap—Sakura took the initiative and decided to summon me on her own. Unfortunately, my relic—and the Summoning Circle—was in the Worm Pit, where she had refused to venture a year hence. Despite her understandable terror, she and Kariya crept down regardless.”

The dramatic pause isn’t really needed, but the rapt attention the others are paying them pleases Sakura.

“Once she began the Summoning, however, the worms awakened from their slumber and attacked. Despite their ruthless biting and attempts to burrow into her flesh, with Kariya’s help she finished the incantation. When I arrived, she was still standing tall, despite all that had befallen her.

“So,” Archer says grandiosely, sweeping his hand toward Rider and Saber, “do you still believe becoming my subject is ‘that easy’?”

Sakura doesn’t know if she wants to sink into the earth in embarrassment or float into the sky with her newly inflated ego. She settles for staring bashfully at the ground.

“Um, Sakura,” Kariya says, sounding equally embarrassed, “when you two came back, you looked like you had something important to say…”

“Oh, that’s right!” Irisviel claps a hand to her cheek in surprise. “I was distracted. Sakura, could you…?”

Sakura eagerly explains her theory about the Grail, while Irisviel interjects with her own ideas. Thanks to Archer’s words or simple curiosity, she has a rapt audience. Waver in particular looks deeply concerned, and Saber seems torn between agreement and objection. Sakura waits for an interruption that never comes.

When she and Irisviel finish, there’s a long stretch of silence.

Rider’s the first to speak up. “So, in other words, you believe the Grail to be corrupted? Hmm…it’s possible. But what do you plan to do about it?”

Here we go… “If-If the Grail’s corrupted, then nobody should get it, right? It let Caster have a nasty Master, and summon a monster he shouldn’t have been able to—what would something like that do to a wish?”

“Only the summoning may be blackened,” Saber says thoughtfully. “The wish-granting device itself may be untarnished.”

“I don’t know…” Irisviel rubs her arm in a nervous gesture. “It has two parts, the ‘key’ to the Grail, and the Grail itself. The ‘key’ hasn’t been compromised—everything is going according to the ritual.”

Waver’s brows furrow. “Then it’s got to be the main part that’s causing the trouble. We need to destroy the ‘key’ first—to stop the sickness from spreading.”

“Exactly, boy! But then we’ll have to wait until it materializes—there’s a few days left until that happens.”

Kariya fidgets with his turtleneck. “Maybe, Rider. But what if the Grail accelerates the time? Think of what Caster and his Master did while they were…running amuck. Since a blood sacrifice is needed to wake the Grail, Caster might’ve been summoned for that reason.”

Sakura shudders. Everyone else looks equally disturbed.

“…Maybe Assassin knew about this,” Waver says with a look of slow realization. “That might’ve been why he—they—were at Caster’s base, Rider!”

Archer starts. “You mean to say that foolish mongrel survived Berserker’s attack?”

Rider nods. “Just barely. Apparently he could create multiple bodies when he was ‘killed’—a clever trick. Unfortunately for him, we found him in the sewers Caster called home—from the looks of it, he was using Caster’s victims as a mana source. That was unacceptable enough, and he was so weak and starved it felt best to put him out of his misery.”

Sakura can’t help but feel sad, for some reason. “How do you know you killed him?”

“Haha! Good question, girl. He—or should it be ‘they’?—faded to dust, as we Heroic Spirits do in the end.”

“…Oh. You didn’t…hurt them, did you?”

Rider shakes his head. “No, their death was quick, and as honorable as I could manage. They faced my army—one can’t get more heroic than that.” He smiles fondly. “You’re a gentle child, as you should be.”

Sakura takes that as a compliment.

“In any event,” Archer says, “we need a plan of attack in case the Grail does choose to appear earlier than expected.”

The plan is hashed out over tea (coffee for Waver and Kariya), as soft clouds float overhead in an intensely blue sky. Sakura watches the proceedings with a lighter heart. I guess Kings can work together after all…

---

“I wish the Grail would hurry up,” Sakura says a few days later.

Archer chuckles dryly from his sunning spot on one of the wood chairs. “You will regret those words soon enough. We may have a plan, but plans often go awry.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today,” Kariya says, curled up in another chair with a literary magazine. 

After the Banquet of Kings, it was agreed that everyone should lie low and wait for the Grail’s key to appear. A good idea in theory, but Sakura finds herself longing for an ambush, a sneak attack at night, a monster infestation, or all three—anything to break the boredom she’s dealing with. Even Rider showing up to fine-tune the plan again would be welcome. It’s amazing to her that Archer and Kariya can be so…calm.

“I don’t really want the Grail to come, I’m just bored.”

Silence.

Sakura turns lazily in a circle, watching her purple dress and white petticoat catch a passing breeze.

“…I guess I’ll go find something to do.”

“Mmm.” Kariya sets the magazine down with a thwap. “Hey, wait a minute—who had to tell the Church about the Grail again?”

“Saber and her Master.” Archer stretches languidly, his muscles coiling and uncoiling under his white shirt. “Fear not, we have no responsibilities to chase us down.”

Ugh, you’re both so lazy! Sakura pouts and marches off toward a patch of flowers. She entertains herself for awhile trying to make flower chains, but her failure only makes her more annoyed and bored. She sprawls out on the grass and watches the clouds drift by.

She feels the ground jolt a little beneath her, and finds herself staring up at Kariya.

“Hello, Princess of the Bored Kingdom.”

She smiles. “Hello, Lord of Laziness.”

“No, no, that’s Archer, not me.” He sits down beside her with a soft groan. “Are you worried about the plan?”

“No. Um, should I be?”

“…I don’t think so. Worrying is a grownup’s job.”

Something is gnawing at her, and she decides to speak up. “Uncle Kariya? Is it—is it alright to be selfish?”

He looks at her in surprise, then lowers his head in thought. He looks older, sadder. “…Well, I guess it depends. If you’re trying to make yourself happy and purposely hurting people, then it’s bad. But if you’re trying to make yourself happy without hurting others, then it’s good.”

“…Oh.” She curls up onto her side. “Then what if you made somebody make a promise they didn’t know they could keep?”

“Like what?”

She bites her lip. “Making them promise they could stay longer.”

Kariya lets out a gust of air and pulls her into her arms. “Sakura, you listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more time with those you care about. It may happen, it may not, but either way, you’re not a bad person for wanting that. Do you understand?”

She nods, but she her chest still feels tight with worry. “…Okay.”

---

When night falls, Sakura finds her reading interrupted.

“Looks like the Grail is early after all,” Kariya says, as she steps outside the tent. “Do you see the flares over by the theatre?”

She follows his pointing finger and sees the yellow and red flares popping in a flurry in the distance. “That means somebody found it, right?”

“Yep. Now all Archer has to do is meet up with Saber and Rider over there, and destroy the key.”

Sakura sighs deeply. “I still want to go. I can help!”

Kariya curls his arm comfortingly around her shoulder. “I’m sure Waver feels the same way, though he says he’s not a strong Mage—but if you think about it, only Heroic Spirits would really have the firepower to deal with something like the Grail. And what if that scary guy you saw at the Hyatt was there, and tried to kill you?”

“We could take him!”

“You know, maybe we could. I don’t want to find out, though.”

Archer looks splendid in his armor, as the campfire crackles and illuminates him. “I see you had a pleasant rest, excellent. Now, before I depart, I have something for you…”

Out of the Gate of Babylon comes a pair of stud earrings, gold with ruby lining the edges and a magnet on the back. He tosses one to Sakura, and attaches the other to his left ear. The dangling, square earring hangs lonely and mismatched on his right.

“Why did you take that gold one out?” Sakura asks. “You clash now!”

“A King’s attire never clashes. These earrings are communication devices. If you wear one, and I the other, we can keep in contact even over long distances.”

“Thanks, Archer!” …They still clash, though.

Kariya helps her clip the earring on—it feels a little heavy, and she resists the urge to rub her earlobe.

“How does it feel?” Kariya asks, as he moves beside Archer to get a better look.

“…Itchy? But it’ll go away soon.” She smiles and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Actually, I feel very grown-up!”

Archer chuckles. “As you should—it will be your job to inform me of any trouble at our base. I’m counting on you.”

She watches as Archer gives Kariya’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze (Kariya blushes) and whispers something in his ear. It reminds her a little of her parents, and she tries not to miss them. Mother and Rin are safe, and Father must be too. I’ll go see them later.

Archer interrupts her reverie by saying “We should test the earrings, to ensure they work properly. Go behind the tent, then speak.”

Sakura does so, the grass brushing wetly against her feet. She sees Archer and Kariya’s shadows across the tent’s illuminated fabric. The sound of Archer's voice emitting from the earring is odd, but she gets used to it quickly. She runs back to Archer's side to see him off.

Archer kneels down to her height. “Do not hesitate to use your Command Seals. Doubtless neither of us will need them, but as a precaution…”

“Okay.” She instinctively traces the two remaining.

Archer looks down at her silently, a calm expression on his face. His fingers clench and unclench, as if he wants to reach out to her. But of course, he doesn’t.

“I will return soon.” His grin boosts her confidence, if only slightly. “You needn’t stay awake on my account.”

"Okay. Be safe, Archer."

"And you as well." He departs in a flurry of gold.

It’s going to be a long night, even if she sleeps. She can feel it.

---

Sakura and Kariya sit by the fire, fading in and out of a restless sleep. Occasionally Archer “calls” her, giving her brief snippets of the action (“Rider and Waver are here, Saber is late”, “Saber is here now, the search is on”). In turn, she tells him everything is boring and she wishes she was there, which makes him laugh wryly.

She can hear bits and pieces of other things from Archer—the sound of armor clanking, Rider and Saber talking, or Waver trying to keep up with the Heroic Spirits. It’s boring, but she’s content enough.

Then the worms arrive.

They’re subtle—they barely make a rustling sound as they stop in front of her Bounded Field. In the flickering light of the fire, and the cloud-shrouded moon, she can barely see them at first. Then the clouds recede, and she can see them, the white light gleaming off their slimy bodies, the squishing sounds the worms make as they squirm atop each other and crawl around the Bounded Field’s edges.

“Uncle Kariya,” she whispers hoarsely, shaking him awake with trembling hands. “Uncle Kariya, they’re here!”

Kariya snaps awake and immediately assesses the situation. He grabs a burning branch off the fire and hands a smaller stick to Sakura.

“Sakura,” Archer says, making her jump, “we found the Grail. Forgive me if I woke you—”

“—The worms are here,” Sakura says, trying to keep her voice steady. “They can’t get past the Bounded Field, but they’re trying.”

Archer growls. “We will end this quickly, then. Keep calm and stay there.”

“…Okay.” Her giggle is forced and harsh on her throat. “Why would I leave?”

Archer’s chuckle sounds equally forced, but at least he isn’t abandoning the plan.

Sakura’s heart sinks like a stone when Zouken appears from the shadows to stand beside his wriggling Familiars, his cane stumping wetly on the ground. I should’ve known…I broke our promise, and now…

“This wasn’t part of the deal, girl,” he rasps, his black eyes narrowed in anger. “Giving me the Grail ensured your freedom, not destroying it. Then again, since you summoned your Servant without my permission, I should’ve known you were a two-timing thief.”

“The only two-timer here is you, Zouken,” Kariya says, his voice harsh with hate. “Come any closer, and—”

Zouken laughs, the sound grating to the ears. “Even in this state I can break you in an instant. I thought you’d learn some skills in this War—clearly you’re a failure to the end.”

“That’s not true!” Sakura stomps forward, shaking with anger. “Uncle Kariya’s been protecting me all this time, and he took on a Master. You just hid in your house like a coward!”

“And what of you, girl? You’re letting your Servant do your dirty work!” Zouken’s voice drops to an eerie drone. “Even if you destroy the key, the Grail itself will still be out there. It will bide its time, carry the energy it already amassed, and begin the Grail War anew in another sixty years. You’re wasting your Servant’s mana.”

Behind Zouken, Sakura sees someone—two someone’s—creeping behind him. It could be a trick of the light, but she has no time to doubt. We need to distract him…

“What makes you think we didn’t know that?” Kariya looks eerily similar to Zouken when he smirks. “There are three places for the Grail to appear—one is at the Ryuudou Temple, and that’s where the ‘main Grail’ has to be. What better hiding place for a Holy Relic than hallowed ground?”

“That’s right…surprisingly. But destroying the Greater Grail is tougher than you think. If you don’t want to waste your time more than you already are, destroying the key to the Grail would be best.”

Faintly, Sakura hears Archer relaying this information to the others. She hopes Zouken won’t hear.

Kariya scowls. “How do we know you’re not lying?”

“You can’t. If you think the Grail is corrupted, give it to me, and—”

“No,” Sakura and Kariya chorus.

The worms crawl with renewed fervor, looking for a way in.

 “No?” Zouken’s fleshy lips curl into a fearsome scowl. “Very well. I need a new body anyway.”

He raises a hand. The worms surge forward, mandibles clicking and gnawing.

The Bounded Field tears like wet paper.

Sakura and Kariya scream and wave their burning branches back and forth. Some of the worms catch fire, stinking of sulfur. The rest evade the flames easily; they circle and press them back toward the tent. Sakura and Kariya continue swinging, the flames crackling on contact with slimy flesh.

Sakura gets an idea. She slams her stick against the tent. Flames lick the fabric and crackle. But…it’s not burning. Of course not. Why would Archer put a fireplace near a tent if it couldn’t burn?

Her hands already feel like lead, and she drops the stick with trembling fingers. Kariya shields her with his body. Fumbling in her pockets, she finds the bloodstone.

She tosses it at the biggest clew, shouting “Blitz frei!” at the top of her lungs.

Green light erupts.

Crisped worm fragments spatter everywhere. The remainder scatters in terror at the light and sound—until Zouken urges them forward again. The fire is dying. There are more worms than Sakura thought.

Cold panic rushes through her chest. She runs to the fire, hoping to rekindle it—

—And Zouken grabs her. He forces her to the ground. She’s on her belly, with his knee digging into her back and his fingernails scraping against her face.

“Order your Servant to bring the Grail here.” His sickly-sweet breath is hot on her neck. “Do it now. Or your Uncle will be eaten alive.”

Archer’s voice rises. “Sakura! Sakura, you mustn’t—”

Zouken unhooks the earring and crushes it. Hot blood trickles down her neck.

She screams and struggles, but her hands only claw at dirt. She tries to make the black tendrils again, but she’s too scared to focus. Pain throbs from her back. I shouldn’t have disobeyed him…Uncle Kariya’s getting hurt because of me. And Archer…Archer’s working so hard for nothing. He’s going to vanish, because I messed up. The thought hurts. I didn’t get to hear what made this era interesting. Maybe I don’t deserve to, because…

…I’m no Master.

Zouken’s gnarled fingers stroke her hair. “Do as your told,” he says softly, as though she’s a pet, “and this pain will end. You can stay with Kariya and be part of the Matou clan’s glorious future. You’ll have a family again…”

Burning tears slide down her cheeks. She lets out soft, groaning cries, her world swimming in night-black and star-blue. His lies sound true to her weary ears.

She’s about to give up…until her eyes rest on her ring. The bloodstones and aquamarine gleam softly in the starlight, as though asking Is this what a Tohsaka would do? Is this what Archer’s Master and subject would do? Is this what Sakura, the hero of this story, would do?

No, she answers, and her heart soars with courage.

She focuses her thoughts on her Command Seals, imagining a twining bond of light going from them to Archer. Archer, please destroy the Grail. And please come back to me!

The Command Seals vanish like smoke. Zouken lets out a wheezing chuckle. For a moment, she lets him relish his victory.

She thinks of black tendrils pushing Zouken’s head down toward the ring. She hears him grunt in surprise.

With all her heart, she cries aloud:

“Gib…mir…Licht!”

She squeezes her eyes shut and savors Zouken’s howl of pain and rage. He lurches off her. She can faintly see the ring’s blue light behind her eyelids as she crawls away from him. She opens her eyes in time to see Kariya’s stick crack against Zouken’s head. She runs toward a nearby tree, the sound echoing in the park.

Unfortunately, the worms are still here. They squirm forward, an endless mass eager for meat. She hears Kariya let out a gasp of horror, and doesn’t turn to look.

Get up a tree. She scrambles up the nearest pine, wincing as her hands and knees scrape against the bark. Sap clings to her palms. She gets to the first branch, and rests against it. Taking a hoarse breath she yells:

“You’ll never get the Grail, mongrel!”

“No!” Zouken’s voice is harsh with desperate anger.

From down below, she sees that he’s making a new body out of worms. Kariya’s busy crushing any within reach.

Sakura raises the ring, prepares to cast again—but someone beats her to it.

“Intensive Einäscherung.”

…Father?

A burst of flame envelops Zouken’s half-made body. He can’t speak, but Sakura can see him rolling desperately on the ground, clawing at his skin. It looks and smells horrible, but she can’t look away.

From the wreckage she sees something puny and pale wriggling free of the burning body. “He—it’s still alive, Father!”

“Kirei…could you…?” Tokiomi asks faintly. She can hear him and the Kirei person slowly coming closer.

“Of course,” says a deep, smooth voice similar to her father’s. “A lost soul such as this one should be put to rest.”

“Good. I will leave it to you.”

The priest Kirei begins chanting: “I will kill. I will let live. I will harm and heal…”

Sakura feels her heart begin to slow. She breathes in and out, relishing the knowledge that she’s alive.

Something invisible lands beside her on her branch, and she knows its Archer. “You misused a Command Seal,” he admonishes, his voice sounding oddly far away.

“Sorry.” She stares down at the back of her hands. “Do you…want to make another Contract?”

“We may not need to, necessarily, but…yes. I wish to be corporeal by your side again.”

Sakura lets out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t it be more…um…dramatic?”

“We have been marinating in drama this evening. And I wish to see the joy you will obtain with my own eyes, without worrying needlessly about vanishing. You should be honored that you’ll be further graced by my presence.”

The knowledge that he wants to be with her after all is more heartening than it should be. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and begins the ritual.

She doesn’t stutter or miss a word. When Archer reappears in a burst of golden flecks, she sighs in relief that he’s not too badly wounded; he may be covered in bruises and scratches here and there, but he’s in one piece, and that’s what matters.

Archer smirks at the scene below. “At last, it appears the world is free of Zouken Matou. We should hold a holiday.”

The tree limb shakes with her borderline-hysterical laughter. It stops once she runs out of air.

She doesn’t expect Archer to rest his hand on her head proudly. The touch is hesitant at first, but soon she feels his fingers relax against her hair. The warmth from him spreads downward, and she hopes her face isn’t too red.

“Well done,” he says, his voice gentler than usual.

She can’t stop smiling.

---

When Kirei takes them to the Fuyuki Church, Sakura can barely stand. Kariya brings her to a dark room filled with little cots and tucks her in one by the open window. She hears Kirei place someone else in the cot next to hers. Kariya goes with Archer to talk to Kirei just outside, the old wood door creaking softly behind him.

“Sakura…are you alright?” Tokiomi asks, his voice faint.

“Uh-huh. What about you?”

“I’ll manage.” There’s a rustling sound. “You do have great potential. I’m…very impressed.”

Sakura can’t turn to look at him. “Thank you.”

She hears Kirei say something about hunting down a Mage Killer, and she wonders if it’s the monster from the hotel. Kirei’s steps retreat down the hall, the thudding sound more machine than man.

“I’ll trust the Tohsaka legacy to you and Rin.” Tokiomi chuckles wearily. “Just don’t ruin the house while you practice…”

She turns to face him then, sharply aware of his bone-pale skin, haggard body and graying hair. Reluctantly, she reaches out and touches his outstretched hand. It’s too cold.

“Good night, Father.” 

---

“So,” Waver says the next afternoon, as they sit at the garden outside Fuyuki Church. “How long do you plan on being Contracted with Archer?”

Sakura fidgets on the wooden bench. “We’re going one year at a time. I don’t want to cage him, or the other way around.”

Waver smiles. “That makes sense. I’m happy for you.”

“…I’m sorry about Rider.”

He sighs, long and loud. “Yeah. I mean, he knew what he was getting into, destroying the Grail. He was laughing when—it happened. Still, it…it hurt to see him go. Did Archer tell you about what happened with Saber?”

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t want to talk about it. Did she…?”

“I think Miss Einzbern’s backup took her Command Seals.” He shudders. “Thankfully, Excalibur was already powered, so even if he wanted the Grail, that was impossible. Saber vanished after she struck the Grail’s key.”

“Oh.” Sakura’s heart sinks. “Well…I hope she…” The words don’t come out right, so she stops talking.

“Yeah. Me too.”

They watch a plump mother bird carry a worm to her chicks. It seems strange that things could be so…peaceful. Yellow and white flowers sway in a gentle breeze; the sun dapples the trees, decorating the grass in golden light. This is truly a place for contemplation and peace.

“How’s your father doing, anyway?”

She doesn’t want to answer this, but she knows she’ll have to eventually. “Father Risei says there’s not much time. Berserker took a lot out of him. But…I’ve talked with him some more. He said he’s proud of me.”

“Good. Uh, well, not good that he’s—you know—”

Sakura smiles sadly. “I know. I don’t want to see him die, but…we’ve settled things, and he helped me. I guess…I guess I’ll have to be okay with that.”

Silence stretches between them.

“I’m going to do some traveling, I think,” Waver says, stretching his gangly limbs. “I want to see the world before I go back to the Clock Tower.”

“So you can help Rider conquer the world when you summon him again?” she asks eagerly, smiling from ear to ear.

Waver laughs loudly and doesn’t answer.

“I might go too,” she says, once Waver’s calmed down. “To the Clock Tower, I mean. Maybe I’ll ask Miss Sophia-Ri to make me her apprentice. Or maybe I’ll stay here, and learn with Rin from Father’s library. There’s lots of things I can do!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing you again, regardless.”

They shake hands one last time. Waver’s grip is firmer now.

She’s about to say I’ll miss you too when she hears Kariya calling for her. “Ah, sorry, I have to go! Goodbye!”

“No problem, see you later,” Waver calls, as she runs off toward the direction of Kariya’s voice.

He and Archer are waiting for her at the front door of the church, next to a marble statue of Mary. They look like two boys with a surprise they can’t wait to unveil. Sakura smiles and looks around, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Well? What’s going on?” she asks, shifting eagerly from foot to foot.

There’s a soft crunch of gravel behind her, and she whips around to see the source.

“Sakura,” Aoi says with unrestrained affection, her arms wide. She’s wearing her favorite light green dress, and Sakura thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Sakura!” Rin yells and rushes forward for a hug. They topple onto the grass together, both shaking with laughter.

Sakura winces at the green stains that are already covering Rin’s pristine white shirt and red skirt, but quickly forgets about them when her sister stares at her Command Seals.

“Wow,” Rin breathes, tracing the red petals reverently. “They’re so pretty, Sakura!”

She means to say something humble, but instead she says “Thank you very much…”

Rin helps her back up and starts picking grass out of her hair; she asks question after question about who “the glittery guy” is, and how the Holy Grail was, and about Tokiomi, and on and on. Sakura fields them as best she can, her words tripping over each other.

“Now, Rin,” Aoi chides, “let your sister breathe for a moment.”

Her mother’s gentle arms scoop her up, and Sakura rests her head on her mother’s shoulder contentedly. She feels rather than sees Rin hugging Aoi’s middle. The familiar scent of hyacinths fills the air.

Tears prick at her eyes, and she lets them fall. She’s unsure if she’s crying, laughing, or both. It doesn’t matter. Mother feels so…warm.

Archer grins and casually leads Kariya away. “Let them have their moment, mongrel.”

“Thank you for the ring, Mother,” she says softly. “It saved me.”

“I’m glad.” Aoi holds her a little tighter. “Welcome home, Sakura.”

Sakura closes her eyes and smiles. “…Yes. I’m home.”