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The priest hummed under his breath as he packed a large backpack. He probably wasn’t even aware of it. Kotomine had few joys in life, but routinely packing the backpack and then disappearing for most of a day was evidently one of them.
Gilgamesh frowned. While he wouldn’t bother with what new scheme Kotomine was brewing, and he wouldn’t be able to hide anything of interest from him regardless, it was a sweltering summer’s day and he was bored.
Leaning against the doorway, he drawled, “Where are you going?”
Kotomine swung the backpack on a shoulder and stood, muscles flexing briefly. “Mountain climbing. It’s the perfect weather for it.”
“Is it?” Even in the confines of the church, beads of sweat were plastering his bangs to his forehead. Damn Kotomine for being stingy with the A/C. “Then I should come along and see for myself.”
Kotomine didn’t seem surprised. Kneeling down on a knee, which was a position Gilgamesh enjoyed seeing him in, he merely picked up the second backpack he had prepared and held it out.
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes. “You carry it.”
“You could simply place it in your treasury, King of Heroes.”
“This ratty old thing?” Gilgamesh examined it again and eventually emerged a gate which swallowed it.
“Well, let's go.” Kotomine lifted the gate to the garage. Contrary to his expectations, he didn’t move to the car but rather swung a leg over the bike. His bike.
“Step away from Gilgilmachine 2000.”
“Your driver’s license remains suspended after three counts of speeding. The bike will be better for mountain roads.”
Gilgamesh had no doubt that even his speeding was a safer drive than Kotomine with a car. Law enforcement in these times was unfathomable and deserving of certain death. In the end, while he still wanted to drive, he was curious about Kotomine’s skills with a motorcycle and acquiesced, snapping a helmet over his head.
The conclusion: license or no license, Gilgamesh was driving them back.
They disembarked at the end of a road near the base of a quiet mountain range. The cloying temperature followed them relentlessly through the unmarked trail. Up ahead, the canopy of trees could barely offer respite from the sun. Regret slid down Gilgamesh’s face and soaked through his back as he stole Kotomine’s water bottle, took a big gulp, and nearly spat it out. It was salty, Kotomine explained with a saint’s patience, because adding a pinch of salt would help with rehydration.
Gilgamesh rolled his eyes. Kotomine hadn’t even bothered to hide his smile.
Finally, they emerged into an open space where trees no longer grew and the rock face jutted out.
Kotomine had taken out his keys and began to experimentally stab the rock and lift himself up. Gilgamesh did the same with a thin, glinting sword flung from a gate. The handle should suffice as a footstool. He threw out another and leapt up.
The sun harshly beat down their backs. Despite the fairness of his skin, Gilgamesh did not burn easily. He only paused to take another sip from his water bottle and followed Kotomine up the steep cliff. Did Kotomine usually scale up mountains at this breakneck pace, or was it just special for him? Whichever one it was, Gilgamesh would readily meet any challenge. Uruk was home to plentiful valleys and mountain ranges, and the high winds that brushed past his face felt more familiar than anything in the miserly Fuyuki.
On the way, a small group of climbers scuttled off after watching them climb for a few moments. Surely to speak of the king’s prowess to many others.
They were not far from the peak when the part of the stone where a sword had been inserted suddenly crumbled. Gilgamesh had been in the act of transitioning to the next sword-step and found his feet contacting solid steel and then only air.
The sword fell with the rocks, the bottom too distant to discern the resulting sound. Like it didn’t happen at all. Just Gilgamesh and jagged, loosened stone. The world shifted for a fraction of a second.
Of course, Gilgamesh was unlikely to forget that he had a whole spaceship in his gate. It could be counted as one of his favourite treasures, after all. However, an arm caught him before he could summon it, before he could even begin to freefall.
Pressed against Kotomine’s unbeating chest, the impulsive movement had his vision spinning. It was not altogether unpleasant. As if time had stopped, he searched for Kotomine’s hand bunched at his coat, adorning a fascinated smile.
The same steady hand tightened around his waist and swung him into the air, way past the peak.
Gilgamesh did not yelp. Instead, he was looking forward to skinning Kotomine alive later. A curved sword with a hook manifested in his hand. In a swift move, he plunged it into the rock just as he skimmed over the peak, stopping his fall with a king’s grace.
He lifted himself onto the ledge, discarding the sword when his feet met the ground and looking back down at where he had been hanging moments ago. Oh.
He was on top of the world.
Behind him, he could feel Kotomine approaching.
Faced with the appeasing sunset, he forgot to be mad and patted the ground beside him. “Kotomine, come sit.”
Kotomine stepped evenly onto the summit. He was silent as he examined the scenic view, one he’d seen much more often than Gilgamesh since this was one of his pastimes. He did not usually sit here, however, nor did he have a habit of sitting on the ground anywhere else, and his legs folded in front of him with some awkwardness.
Gilgamesh leant back on him. The mountain breeze swept their hair. “When your wish comes true, let’s come back here to watch the sights. Don’t you suppose you’d enjoy that?”
The land around them was presently burning in the dying embers of the setting sun. Kotomine watched quietly. This far away, he could not make out a single person’s suffering in agony. Regardless, satisfaction thrummed through him and coloured his response. “I think I would, in truth.”
They sat there finishing the snacks in Gilgamesh’s backpack until the sun completely vanished from the horizon. The cities within their sight continued to emit an insistent glow, undaunted in the encompassing night.
He pondered, in the lingering heat of the moment, when Gilgamesh would grow bored.
“Carry me down,” came Gilgamesh’s unhurried command.
Kotomine lowered on a practiced knee.