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Before they left for the Clock Tower in London, Rin gave three gifts.
The first was for Shirou. “The flight’s in two weeks,” Rin said, on a balmy weekend in early September as they sat in Shirou’s courtyard. “We’ll need time to settle in, of course, even if the Clock Tower starts late in the year. But here!”
Saber watched Rin grab Shirou’s hand and turn it over before she dropped a small gem into his palm. “Eh?” said Shirou. He considered the jewel—brilliant cut, with a fabulous blue blaze all on display, and twisted his fingers to let it dangle from its chain. “Tohsaka—but your money, you don’t need to—“
“As your master, it’s only proper to provide my student with a bit of insurance,” Rin said, crossing her arms and tilting up her chin to look over Shirou’s head into the distance. It was a pose which Saber imagined she must have perfected after so much time acting as the distant but gracious idol of Homurahara and all the classes that had come before. One could not so easily deny habit. Even now, Saber still clasped her hands together on instinct, as if to grasp the upright hilt of the king’s sword. Even now, she dreamed of Caliburn.
Rin continued, “It’ll activate if you come to any harm, Emiya-kun. Your healing prevents you from dying immediately, but Saber isn’t connected to you now so you’ll need more than just that.”
“Take it, Shirou,” said Saber. “I won’t hear a refusal from you.” Rin’s determined to overlook any refusal you make.
“I wasn’t going to say no,” said Shirou, wisely, though the redness in his face could be seen even through the tan he’d developed that summer. Neither Rin nor Saber had commented on the change; Saber hoped that it would be gone by the winter. “Thanks, Tohsaka. I definitely won’t lose it.” Of course he wouldn’t, thought Saber. Even Archer, after all those years…
Shirou continued, “And if you need any help over there—“
“I expect,” snapped Rin, her idol pose falling away like a swiftly shed cloak, “that I won’t have to come back and grow a heart again for you if you get into trouble. You’d better think of yourself! Or think of Sakura! I don’t care if Matou Shinji’s out of the hospital now; he’s still a miserable little bug and needs to be driven off.”
“Shinji’s never come by to tell Sakura she needs to move back,” said Shirou firmly.
“Yet. While I’m not here, you’d better keep it that way,” said Rin. “When does archery practice finish again?”
*
“Waver Velvet,” Rin said. She flopped on top of her suitcase in a misguided effort to force it closed. “I did tell you before, right?” Without waiting for Saber to reply, Yes, you did, she went on: “Master of Rider in the Fourth War—he’s at the Clock Tower, one of the Lords now, and he said he’d sponsor me. We won’t be living in the dorms and there’s no way he’d bother leaving his office to find me, but I bet he’d know you even after all these years.”
Saber wondered if she would know him by sight. What came to mind was a short, nervous boy; a peevish fish out of water; a Master who had always accompanied his Servant—someone very much unlike Kiritsugu. Thus she was not surprised that she’d come to like Waver Velvet, in a fashion. “He always saw me in armor, and it’s been more than a decade,” she said. “In everyday clothing I would draw little attention.”
“… Saber.” Rin sighed. “Are you joking?” She eyed Saber from head to toe. At Rin’s request, Saber had put aside the outfit Kotomine Kirei had gifted to Rin—“That fake priest!” came the complaint, “I can do without seeing anything related to Kirei again!”—and started favoring black slacks and blouses in various shades of blue and green. She suspected Rin enjoyed shopping more than she admitted.
Rin was smirking when she added, “Even Ryuudou thinks you’re fine, and he almost never likes girls. Shame, he’s missing out on so much.”
“You told me he might have some latent sensing abilities. So of course he would accord me proper respect as his elder.”
Rin narrowed her eyes. “Elder,” she muttered. “Claiming seniority here?”
“You’re the exception,” said Saber, and knelt next to the suitcase, next to Rin. “After all, you are my praiseworthy host.”
“Oh geez,” muttered Rin, and rolled over to hit the floor in an awkward slouch. The suitcase lid creaked up again in protest. “You’re getting to be as bad as Emiya-kun. Are you competing to see who can come up with the most ridiculous compliments?”
“No,” she said, and hid a smile. “Why wouldn’t I tell the truth?”
“Nnnngh,” groaned Rin up at the ceiling. “Why are you here again?”
I destroyed the Grail. I will not make my wish. How often had she dwelt on such visions? The dead knights at Camlann, the blood and guts that sowed the ground; the bitterness written on Mordred’s face, the devastation binding Lancelot to his doom; the devotion that Bedivere bore as a shield against their enemies, the love that Kay bore for her as his sister before she had ever been his king; Guinevere’s bold smile as she walked toward her fate, so like Irisviel’s calm face as she went to hers—and far off, the glimmering golden light that signaled the way to Avalon… visceral, vivid, so much a waking dream. All that was past. Past sorrows, past joys…
“I'm here to stay,” said Saber. “Don’t you need a second person to sit on your suitcase?”
“Hah!” Rin propped herself up on her elbows and framed her face with her hands. “Well, it would be a pity if you left. Now come help with this stupid thing—I absolutely refuse to pay extra for another piece of luggage.”
*
The second was for Sakura. One evening, as they were preparing to leave after dinner, Rin said, “Your hair ribbon’s awfully old, Sakura.” Saber finished lacing up her boots and glanced behind her; Rin had spoken with such a forced air of casual nonchalance in her approach that Saber could not fail to recognize the true attention Rin paid to it.
Sakura flushed and looked down. “I—I still like it,” she stammered. “The color is very pretty, and—and it means a lot to me! To me, it’s not old at all.”
“I believe it suits you,” said Saber, wondering at Rin’s silence. “Thank you for the meal, Sakura; I always enjoy your cooking. Rin and I will discuss manners on our walk home.”
Rin turned at once, her face black with indignation. “You! I don’t need anyone to tell me about manners,” she grumbled, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. “I just thought—“
Saber and Sakura both stared as Rin pulled a ribbon out of her right coat pocket—a ribbon much like the one Sakura wore, the exact same shade of pink. “Here,” said Rin. “You can’t wear the same one all the time, right? I guess it can’t be helped. This one’s newer, and you can use both if you want.”
Saber kept within her memory the sight of Sakura’s face turning red with embarrassment and pure delight as she walked back to the Tohsaka residence with Rin, where she’d been living after Shirou had informed Fujimura Taiga and Sakura that Saber’s unexpected, short-term visit to see the deceased Emiya Kiritsugu had transformed into a long-term one, and that Tohsaka Rin had offered to have their new acquaintance stay with her. “That was kind,” she said. “Sakura doesn’t lose her composure that easily.”
Rin didn’t look at Saber; she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, the pace of her steps measured and level. “We don’t owe each other anything,” she said abruptly. “It’s just a ribbon—I thought she could use another one.”
“So you gave her something because you wanted to,” said Saber.
“That’s right. I felt like it.”
I wanted to. I felt like it. Saber rolled the words around her mouth, words that King Arthur had never spoken. And then she swallowed them down, in silence.
*
As the Second Owner of the land of Fuyuki, said Rin, she couldn’t possibly leave without wrapping up dangling threads. A new permanent representative from the Church would arrive shortly, and Rin was already thoroughly sick of dealing with what Kirei had left behind. “I never liked him, even when I was a kid,” she confessed to Saber as they got out of a taxi at the outskirts of the Einzbern forest. (As the Second Owner, said Rin, she needed to inspect the Einzbern wards to ensure that any curious and unsuspecting members of the public would be mysteriously redirected. The castle’s vacancy left no one else to do the task.) “Now it’s like he’s tormenting me from beyond the grave. The Tohsaka properties are all messed up, and his organization system is terrible. I can just see him smiling. Argh! Serves him right that Lancer killed him.”
Rin rarely talked of how Kirei had betrayed her father, so Saber respected that and did likewise. “A pity Lancer had him for a Master,” Saber said. “I would’ve liked to fight him again.”
She looked up at the sky: a sunny day, a bright morning—nothing like the night that had given her a tainted fight and Diarmuid’s curse. If Cu Chulainn could kill his Master even after piercing himself with his lance by Command Seal, could Diarmuid have done the same for Kiritsugu?
No, she answered herself. A foolish question. She did not like Kiritsugu, but King Arthur had desired the Grail. She would not have hesitated to cut Lancer down, just as she would’ve done the same to Rin. If Shirou hadn’t stopped her… Saber had been inflamed with anger at the time. How long had it been since she was forced against her will by a Command Seal? How long since the hill of death, and the destruction wrought by her own holy sword? A pity he stopped me, Saber had thought fleetingly.
It wasn’t a pity, now. Saber liked Rin very much.
“You’re smiling.” Rin was several steps ahead of her but had looked back over her shoulder, and now fully turned around. “Is this so interesting to you? Running diagnostics on the defenses?”
“Ah, not that,” replied Saber. “I was thinking of the time I was about to kill you.”
Rin crossed her arms and scowled at her. “Is that your happy thought?”
“Not at all,” Saber said; Rin’s disgruntlement amused her. “My thoughts are much kinder to you now.”
“As they should!” Rin turned away and continued walking, while counting on her fingers: “I feed you, I house you, I provide you with prana, and what do you do? Don’t answer that,” she added hastily. “You can explore Fuyuki as much as you like. And well, to be fair, I have to admit that if I had to die I’d rather be killed by a woman like you.”
“Oh?”
To Saber’s surprise, Rin colored furiously. “Don’t look like that,” she complained. “You’re strong and stunning. It can’t be helped.”
“It can’t be helped,” repeated Saber. She felt very warm, standing there with Rin; sunlight filtered through the forest foliage and cast its heat upon her. She came close to Rin and slipped her hand into the crook of Rin’s elbow, just as Guinevere had done once upon a time. “Then, if I may speak frankly, Rin, you have also been a worthy enemy, a worthy ally—a good Master, and a better friend.”
The blush on Rin’s face did not fade. “And so,” said Saber, “let’s not talk of killing. I wouldn’t like you to leave me.” Since so many, before you, have done just that. I am the one who remains.
“I’m taking you with me, aren’t I?” Rin retorted, but she did not look away.
*
The third was for Saber. “Your documents, finally!” There was exasperation in Rin’s voice as she flung a sheaf of papers at Saber. Saber leaned back and took the scattered pages in hand, while Rin continued, “The Mages’ Association dragged their feet unforgivably this time. They do ID forgeries for anyone who’s already registered as a magus, but since I’m not even claiming you as my apprentice it’s a bit more complicated.”
“And a distant relative isn’t?”
“My family has some European heritage,” Rin said vaguely. “It works. Well? What do you think?”
Saber shuffled through her documents and stopped to inspect her new passport. A young, blonde woman gazed out of a small photo back at her, her eyes inscrutable and her hair pulled back into a low ponytail.
“I like that hairstyle,” said Rin, peering over Saber’s shoulder. “It’s more modern than your usual, though you look fine either way. Was there a reason you picked that name?”
“No,” replied Saber. Yes. “It doesn’t stand out. If what you say is accurate, I would prefer to avoid being examined by any magus as a Heroic Spirit. I’ll simply be your roommate, very distantly related by blood, who's aware of your studies but possesses no magic circuits of my own. That is nothing to them.”
“Which is a joke,” muttered Rin. “Your magic resistance is absurd. It’s a risk, but one we’ll have to make; I can’t maintain the connection across continents, but I won’t give you up to anyone else either.”
Saber turned her head and smiled; Rin jerked back at the proximity and averted her eyes. “I have no objections,” said Saber. She traced letters across her passport and continued, “I’ll be glad to accompany you. It—it will be good to see Britain again.”
Next to the passport photo, in neat block type, was printed the name ELISE WATSON. It was not the family of Einzbern who had chosen the name Saber had used for a passing moment in another lifetime, another war—not the family of Einzbern, but Irisviel herself. “A sweet name for my sweet knight,” Irisviel had said, radiant as a queen; and so Saber remembered, for the dead who could not, and went forth with the living.