Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Across the heavens was the sky. Beneath the sky, there was a sea. Above the sea, there was a rock. Upon the rock, there was a girl.

The girl was tall and athletic, and held herself with a warrior’s poise. A curved sword hung at her waist, and a feathered clasp held her long hair to the side. She sat atop the rock and watched the sea and looked at the sky.

She didn’t look at the sky often. It was high and bright and oppressively blue, and it stretched wider and deeper than a sky should, as if it was bending the horizon away from it. Before its empty vastness, everything beneath it felt insignificant. The girl did not like feeling insignificant.

Instead, she watched the sea. Beneath its glimmering surface, it was dark and cold, stirred by swift currents. The shallows nearby were choppy with waves that seemed to race to dash themselves against the rocks, making their deaths as loud as possible before being replaced by another. Sometimes she found herself cheering them on. She liked the sea better than the sky. The sea looked like something dangerous that could be fought; neither sea nor sky would notice your efforts, but there was no coming to grips with the sky.

The rock was less entertaining, but she liked it best. It was as tall as five men and about as wide at the top, with boulders spilling down one sloping side to make a long trail into the water. Parts of it piled up haphazardly from beneath the waves, as if someone very strong had thrown it together in a great hurry. A tree sprouted from its crown, a gnarled afterthought like the topknot of an aged warrior. The rock was rough and uncomfortable, but the discomfort was the sort that reminded her of her own existence, and she was glad for that without knowing exactly why.

Fish leapt and seabirds passed by, but neither stayed. She always expected there to be a shoreline in sight, but whenever she looked she saw only the shallows around her rock, the deep sea and the deep sky, and in the distance, a panorama of snow-capped peaks that rose from the horizon like a wall. That was all.

She had been there for some time when she heard the call.

At first she thought she had only imagined hearing it. She raised her head and listened, staring out across the water. She was still alone. There were no boats upon this sea, and no one else upon her rock.

Someone had called out to her, hadn’t they?

Yes, she was sure of it. She stood and turned to look for the source and found a sheer cliff stretching from the waves behind her, impossible to miss, as if she had simply never turned to see it. It rose up from the sea without preamble a hundred meters across the water, an expanse of craggy dark rock that defied perspective; it might have been as tall as a castle or as tall as ten mountains. Waves boomed like war drums against the cliff’s base.

Her hands ached with remembered pain as her eyes traced their way up the stony face. Perhaps she’d climbed it before, or one like it. She hated heights. No matter how good your balance or how firm your grip, no matter how solid the footing seemed, there was always a fall at the end.

But someone had called for her. Someone had called her to fight for them.

Besides, did she really want to stay here any longer?

She filled her lungs to the brim, feeling as if it had been years since she’d last breathed. Facing the cliff, she let the air out in a slow, controlled breath, and dropped into a stance somewhere between a sprinter’s start and a coiled watchspring. Her muscles ached as they flexed, waking up after long disuse.

Lower and tighter she coiled, holding her body at the edge of motion, gathering herself. When she felt she might burst, she fought to hold it for one more moment, relishing the strain. Then she set herself loose.

Her feet carried her forward so fast her geta broke shards out of the bare stone. Four furious strides covered the length of the rock, and the fifth and last kicked off the crumbling edge and flung her out over the water like an arrow. The air whistled in her ears and dragged at her hair, but it couldn’t stop her. She wouldn’t let it. She felt air on her teeth and realized she was grinning.

How had she forgotten how good it was to move?

She hit the water with hands outstretched fifty meters out, halfway to the cliff already. The sea was a cold shock that started at her fingertips and ended an instant later at her toes. She turned the shock into sudden motion, kicking more like a dolphin than a human as she sped towards the wall.

The cliff loomed overhead just as the cold started to seep into her bones. She raised her head to look over the waves and a sudden swell shoved her forward, towards the rocks. Knifing like a salmon, she fought the surge until it brought her close enough, then scrambled for a hold on the rock as the water pulled back for another swing. There was no time to choose handholds, only enough to heave herself up hand over hand on any projection she could find, feet scrabbling at the rock to keep her moving. She made it up twice her height before the next wave hit. When it boomed against the rock below her, the best it could do was slap her foot, carrying off one of her geta.

Clinging to the wall with her fingertips, she glared down at her one bare foot and huffed in irritation. Then she kicked her remaining shoe into the sea, turned her eyes upwards, and started to climb.

* * *

She did not like this cliff. It was barren and crumbling and drab, each stretch similar enough to be monotonous but just unpredictable enough to be troublesome to climb anyway. The worst of all possible cliffs.

She could still hear someone calling.

It was impossible to say how high she’d come, but the salt was long dried on her clothes and her arms and legs were a mass of aches. A longer way than she cared to fall, certainly. She’d made a point of not looking down, and the view upward seemed much the same as when she’d started.

There was no warning when the chunk of rock snapped and tumbled from beneath her hand. The lurch made her feet slip, sending her swinging to the side in what felt like slow motion. Her other hand’s grip slipped as she twisted, but her fingertips caught on the very edge.

She swayed back and forth, teeth clenched and eyes fixed on those fingers, because otherwise she’d look down and see how far she was about to drop. She felt a moment’s bizarre gratitude for the wave that had made her lose her footgear, because another couple of ounces would have cost her that purchase.

Carefully, feeling all her weight hanging from those fingers, she eased herself to the side. Her searching foot found a toehold, and she swung to wedge her free hand into a crack, made a fist, and jammed it tight to hold her. Prying her cramped fingers from their hold was more painful than hanging from them, but she forced herself to flex and curl them until her hand was useful again.

The girl gave herself five seconds to rest her head on the rock face, then looked up at the distance still to climb and stared it down as she reached for the next hold. Nothing had ever stopped her from accomplishing what she set out to do, and this cliff would not be the first.

* * *

She could see the top.

By now, however long it had been, every stretch and reach was agonizing, and because she disdained her own discomfort she pushed herself to keep moving as fast as before. Her hands were raw, the sword calluses on her fingers nearly scraped away, and she was sure her bare feet were bloody. As if she needed another reason not to look down.

When her hand stretched up and over the lip of the cliff and caught the edge, the sense of triumph was so sharp she cheered aloud, a tired, raucous shout that echoed faintly from the rock face. Forcing her arms to work a little longer, she swung up to grab the lip with both hands, gathered herself, and with an exhausted grimace, heaved herself upwards.

Her armor clattered as she rolled up and over the rail of the boat, already reaching for her sword. Around her, she could hear the shouts of men at war, a song she knew intimately. No one was in sight, though, and she gave herself a few moments to catch her breath, every sense alight for the enemy.

The boat rocked beneath her feet, back and forth. The shouts went on, but apart from the motion of the waves, the deck was still beneath her feet. No one appeared around the sides of the shelter that rose up amidships.

Had the Taira abandoned the boat already? She knew the young Emperor Antoku would throw himself into the sea soon - or be thrown, one could hardly expect even an Emperor to manage that by himself at six years of age - but she hadn’t expected to find empty vessels yet. She supposed she’d simply try one boat after another until she found enemies, then. There had never been any shortage of those.

Settling her armor on her shoulders, she stood up, but a creeping doubt made her hesitate. Was she here to crush the Taira once more? No, that couldn’t be. No one had ever needed to be defeated by her more than once. So who was she here to fight against?

She heard someone calling for her again, and turned to look.

Suddenly the boat was jostling with a dozen other craft, all identical and all identically empty, every square inch riddled with so many arrows that they should have sunk from the weight alone.

No, that was the wrong question, wasn’t it?

Who was she here to fight for?

She blinked, and the boat was crowded with shouting, armed men, the sashimono above their backs proclaiming for the Taira and their allies.

Another blink, and the boat was ablaze, the rails curtains of roaring flame. The deck was smoldering beneath her feet, and sheets of smoke obscured the sea and sky.

Past the flames, someone was calling her. Yes. That was what she was here for.

Stopping had been a mistake. Really, when had it ever not been?

Facing the fire, she closed her eyes and ran forward in smoke-scented darkness. The roar of the fire fell away, then the heat and the choking fumes. Blindly, she ran on, geta clacking like claws against the boards, ignoring that she’d run far past where the boat should have given way to water, refusing to acknowledge obstacles in her path. Whatever was in her way would simply need to move aside.

* * *

The girl didn’t know how long it had been since she’d started running, but she knew she wasn’t on the water any longer. The clack-clack-clack other footsteps on rough boards of the ship had given way to the click-click-click of footsteps on stone. Now there was a distant ringing of weapons and shouting of warriors, but muffled, as if through walls. Something warned her against looking, but she slowed to listen, eyes still shut.

One bellow drowned out all the others. It was a voice she knew well. She couldn’t make out the words, but its meaning was clear. It was the roar of someone who intended to let his killers know that many of them would be departing with him.

She did not open her eyes. There was nothing here she wanted to see. A soft, ugly weight seemed to settle on her shoulders, though she waved her hand through it and felt nothing. It felt like being watched by malicious eyes, like whispers behind her back that she couldn’t ignore and couldn’t confront.

Was someone still calling?

Her next step hit a wooden riser, and she had to stop to catch her balance. When she raised her hands to feel around her, they were sticky, and the copper-salt smell of blood filled her nose. The sense of something gathering around her redoubled, pressing close.

This would be a bad place to stop.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, she felt for the step with a foot she refused to acknowledge was trembling. When she found it, she bolted up the unseen stairs in a headlong rush, taking them four steps at a time, keeping her feet with preternatural balance. Eyes closed, she reached a turnaround before she realized it and hit the far wall bruisingly hard. Without missing a beat, she adapted, caroming off of it and pounding up the next flight. She knew how tall the flights were now, and without having to look, she made the turn at the next landing and kept going, up the next flight, and the next.

Somewhere on the stairs, a sudden agony twisted in her stomach, making her stagger. She clutched her stomach, tasting blood on her teeth. That untouchable weight gathered around her, bearing down. Every breath came harder, like it was seeping in with the air, pooling in her lungs and stealing the breath she needed to move.

Wasn’t there somewhere she had to reach, though?

She tried to suck in a breath and coughed until she was doubled over, each one agonizing. One sticky hand made an unseen handprint on the floor.  She swallowed back blood.

She was not going to stop.

With a grimace, she forced herself back to her feet. She swayed, but refused to fall. One step at a time, groaning with the effort, she started to run through the pain, no longer aware of what she was running on or running from, only that there was somewhere she intended to reach, and that she would get there. She ran, and let the running become her world, her only focus a journey from here to elsewhere .

* * *

Gradually, the agony in her stomach faded to a twinge and then to nothing. The copper-salt smell of blood was replaced by the sharper tang of sea air. It seemed to scour her lungs clean, and she slowed to a walk, drawing in deep, cleansing breaths. 

When she heard the beat of familiar wings, she stopped walking and opened her eyes again.

Once more, she was on a boat, facing the prow. No wind blew, and the sea spread out around her to the horizon, mirror-calm, under a sky that seemed paused. Before her, directly ahead of the boat, shone a brilliant sun of no color at all. Everything vanished in its glare, losing line and color and substance. It was impossible to see the horizon behind it, and the bow of the boat lost definition going forward until the prow seemed only to be a faint line drawing. It should have been frightening, but it was not.

The call was coming from there.

She started forward, only to stop when she heard beating wings again, and a loud, uncouth birdcall. A jungle crow perched on the railing to the side, huge and glossy. A gull or a crane would have looked more appropriate against the sea, but it did not appear to care about appropriateness. It watched her with one bright eye.

The girl stared back. “What?” she said flatly.

The crow flapped its wings, lazily.

“Do you have something to say?” she asked.

The crow let out a long kaaar.

“Well, what else am I going to do?”

The crow pumped its head and neck, and gave a long croak.

She grinned. “Most likely it will be the same as before. Should I let that stop me?”

The crow tilted its head left, then right, and let out another kaar.

With an impatient look, she said, “If you aren’t going to help, then go away. I don’t need you to see me off, and I definitely don’t need a minder.”

She strode past toward the boat’s prow. Behind her, the crow let out something that might have been a series of caws, or might have been a laugh, before taking wing. It flapped close past her head, brushing her hair with a wingtip. The girl snorted with amused irritation, but didn’t bother watching it leave. Instead, she kept her eyes on that strange light ahead, walking straight up to the bow of the ship over planks that looked less present with every step.

She’d thought the light was like a sun on the horizon, but as she approached, perspective shifted, and instead of huge and distant, now it seemed small enough and close enough to grasp, hovering conveniently over the boat’s bow. Bracing one foot on the almost-unseeable bow rail, she reached up toward the light. She cupped it in her hand and drew it down before her so it stole the definition from her hands and wiped the chill from the air, erased the sight of the boat and the sound of waves and wind. It was like holding radiant nothingness. Amid utter silence, feeling herself losing definition, she tilted her head to peer at it, held it close to her eyes so it filled her vision with bright nothing, dove in.

The world vanished in a gentle revelation.

* * *

It was not like going blind. It was as if she was blind and had dreamed of sight, except instead of seeing, she’d imagined living. Now, she was waking from the illusion of being alive, the fragments of it blurring into hazy memories of seas and swiftness and laughing crows, of the anticipation of violence and the expectation of loss. She did not see, or hear, or breathe, or move; she was a formless, timeless existence, poised between all possible heres and nows.

But the voice was still calling her.

It was much clearer now that she wasn’t pretending to hear it with her ears. Instead, it seemed to resonate in the core of her. Hear me, the voice was saying. It was steady and bright, and what it lacked in authority it made up for in earnestness. Please come, it said. Help us. You are needed.

Something inside of her woke with longing. She had always wanted so very badly to be needed. 

The call was like a hand pressed against a pane of glass, with hers opposite it. She could feel the tiny tremors of pressure from the other side, the warmth of it. She wanted that warmth, that life, wanted to take hold of it and dream better dreams this time.

I accept your pact, she said, with no voice save that of her soul.

Instead of pulling the warmth to her, she pulled herself toward it, embracing the call.

Your will shall create my body, she swore,
And my sword shall carve your destiny.
I heed the Grail's call.
I shall abide by your will and purpose.
Such is my answer to you.

She could hear the call louder now. It rang against the barrier between them, bearing a promise weighty enough to shake the barrier. It was an impossible promise to keep, she could tell, but she understood. Sometimes the way you accomplished the impossible was to set an impossible standard for yourself and then hold yourself to it.

I witness your oath, she said.
I will help you uphold all the good of the world.
I will stand with you against all the world’s evil.

Now the call was a beacon she struggled towards, pushing the weight of her soul against the barrier between them. It began to give beneath the pressure, and she redoubled her efforts.

As one of seven heavens, she proclaimed,
Clad in the three Words of Power,
From the circle which guards the World,
A guardian of the balance attends you now!

With a final heave, the barrier between her and the world shattered.

The girl blinked against the sudden light with eyes created by the sight of it. Brilliant golden motes gusted from the passage opening in front of her, swirling around and through her. Where the lights touched, they painted her essence in matter. Golden whorls drew bones and flesh and skin and hair, sketched clothes upon her body and geta upon her feet. Radiance swirled toward her hand, curved and coalesced into the sword she’d made part of her legend. 

Breath filled her new lungs. Her heart beat for the first time, again. Knowledge of places and times not her own etched itself into her mind, making her ready for her duty. The light opened into a circle, a shining passage back to the world of the living. Someone was out there, waiting for her to make their cause her own.

Perhaps this time she would be worthy. She would do her best. She’d never known how to do otherwise.

Ushiwakamaru squared shoulders that hadn’t existed a moment ago and stepped out through the ring of golden light.

* * *

“Ushiwakamaru, arriving as requested! As a samurai, I shall serve you with my whole heart.”

Chapter Text

September 28, 2017

Suspended in the middle of Chaldea’s command room, the little world of CHALDEAS burned, a scale model of the planet soaked in gasoline and touched with a match. Watching it, Ritsuka thought he could hear a quiet furnace roar: the sound of the end of the world, as heard from a great distance. The churning patterns of orange and red on its surface were almost hypnotic. 

When he blinked, the orb was its usual cool blue-and-white wireframe Earth, just like it had been for the last couple of months. Just like it had been when he sat down. He blinked again, then looked away, unnerved.

In the seat next to him, Mash asked, “Are you all right, Senpai?”

RItsuka nodded carefully, not wanting to talk about what he’d been thinking, or seeing. “Yeah, just… vertigo. Feels like I’m going to fall in. And…” He didn’t want to complete the thought.

From the sober look on Mash’s face, he didn’t have to. She’d been there, too. “I know what you mean.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I miss her.”

“I… didn’t really know her well enough,” Ritsuka said diplomatically. Olga-Marie Animusphere had been tough to get along with, but he’d only known her for the two worst days of their lives. Hoping that the wound wasn’t still too raw, he asked. “Were you two close?”

“Not really. I’d met her years ago, but… Olga was a hard person to get to know. And I wasn’t very good at doing that. Maybe if I’d known how, I could have been friends with her. She had a good heart.”

The door hissed open, and Dr. Roman hurried in, prodding at a tablet while gnawing on some sort of breakfast bagel held in his mouth. Gulping down a bite, he awkwardly juggled the sandwich, tablet, and stylus before managing to get the stylus tucked behind his ear. “Hey, you two.”

Ritsuka smirked. “Class, stand!” He and Mash rose out of their briefing chairs in unison. “Bow! Sit!” By the time they finished and sat back down, Mash was suppressing a giggle.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Roman gave him a mock glare. “Have it your way. How are my two little homeroom students this morning?”

“I’m feeling well, Doctor.” Mash’s voice was quiet but cheerful.

“I’m kinda sore,” Ritsuka admitted, rubbing an arm.

“Physical training again this morning, I see. Is Leonidas working you hard?”

“I don’t think that guy has any other settings.” Short of burning a Command Seal, Ritsuka didn’t think he could get out of it. The King of Sparta wouldn’t even have to use force; his rousing speeches always made Ritsuka feel bewilderingly motivated.

Roman chuckled like someone who wasn’t going to get dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to do a hundred squats. “What’s on your agenda for today, Ritsuka?”

“Uh… After this, Medea’s going over some magecraft with me… bounded something something?” Mash mouthed a few words at him. “Uh, bounded field theory. I don’t expect her to put up with my dumb questions for more than an hour, though. I also need to finalize the roster for tomorrow’s Rayshift.”

Roman nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. If that’s all, meet me at the summoning chamber after Medea’s lesson and we’ll see if we can call up some reinforcements.” Roman swiped at the tablet, not waiting to see Ritsuka’s nod. “Final briefing is tomorrow morning, with the Rayshift at noon. Once you’ve decided on your team, get some simulator time with them this afternoon. And get some rest tonight.” His face fell as he swiped again. “Ugh, I need to sort out the observation room rotation before tonight, too. Don’t wait for me at lunch, I suppose.”

“I’ll bring you something from the cafeteria, Director,” Mash said, making a note.

Roman gave her a grateful look. “Would you? That’d be great.”

As Roman went on about training and the latest information on what they were calling the Okeanos Singularity, Ritsuka took a deep breath, let it out, and dug up a smile from deep inside. Overwork, legend-wrangling, and holding off bad memories with good company: just another day in the Chaldea Security Organization.

* * *

The gem-pommeled dagger clinked fitfully as it dropped onto Mash’s enormous shield where it sat in the center of the ritual circle. Last time they’d received a magically-charged model of an ancient Greek ship, and before that some kind of pendant. No heroes of legend, though.

“Maybe there’s a traffic jam on the ‘threefold road from the Crown to the Kingdom’, whatever that is,” Ritsuka grumbled. He’d recited the incantation hundreds of times by now, and he still had no idea what that meant.

“I don’t think it works that way, Senpai, but it would explain the results.” Mash collected the dagger, frowning as she turned it in her hands. She stowed it on a rack to the side with the other conjured odds and ends; da Vinci would break them down later.

Of all the magecraft Chaldea had on display, the Servant summoning ritual felt the most magical to Ritsuka. It had a sense of pattern and symbolism to it, but after as many times as he’d recited the words, it remained mysterious in its specifics, something to be grasped with the heart more than the mind. It made the summoning chamber’s modern trappings feel out of place, rather than the other way around.

Still, two dozen tries with no Servants was disheartening, and he was starting to get the sunburn-on-the-inside feeling of strained Magic Circuits. “Okay, next one’s the last one, or I’ll still be hurting when we shift tomorrow,” he told Roman, rolling his shoulders as if physical activity would ease spiritual aches. Experience had shown that if he didn’t say anything, Roman would keep him going for ‘just one more try’ until the reagents ran dry.

From off to the side. Dr. Roman gave a thumbs-up. “That sounds fine, Ritsuka. One more try, then, and we’ll hope it’s a good one.” Experience had shown that Servants tended to be put off by Roman at first, so Ritsuka and Mash made sure to be the faces to greet new arrivals. Da Vinci, of course, showed up or not as she saw fit. Ritsuka half suspected she lurked around in spirit form and just didn’t show herself if there wasn’t a properly dramatic moment for her entrance.

“Okay, here goes.” Standing in front of the circle, Ritsuka raised his right hand and took a moment to settle himself. Calling a hero back from the dead to save the world deserved a little gravitas no matter how repetitive the ritual got. He concentrated on keeping his voice firm as he started the ritual again.

“Let silver and iron be the origin.
Let the stars and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let Finis Chaldea be the banner to which I give tribute...”

He continued through the opening stanzas about open gates and threefold paths, as the ritual circle with the inset shield lit up like a beacon. Golden motes drifted up like dandelion puffs from the outer ring. He focused on being as steady and sure as he could as he reached the offering of the contract.

“Here is my pact:
My will creates your body,
And your sword creates my destiny.
If you heed the Grail’s call,
And abide by my will and purpose,
Then answer me.”

A heartbeat later, the ritual circle flared golden, brighter than any of the other attempts today, until he could feel the waves of power on his skin. Finally! Somewhere more distant than the other side of the planet, someone had heard him and answered. He forged on, heartened by the success.

“Here is my oath:
I shall uphold all the good of the world.
I shall stand against all the world’s evil.”

There were bound to be consequences for making that promise so many times. He’d accepted that a while ago. One more wasn’t going to change anything, and at least he’d have one more hero to help with it if this worked. As he went on, the air in the room felt electric with anticipation, as if the world held its breath to see which of its favorite children would appear.

“Thou seven heavens,
Clad in the three Words of Power,
From the circle which guards the World,
Come forth, guardian of the balance!”

Heat surged through his Magic Circuits, a painful, scorching rush through his sense of self, starting from his dim sense of Chaldea’s reactor and ending at the ritual circle. He fought to keep himself steady. The flow suddenly stopped as the circle of golden light before him rippled outwards, then surged in and up to swirl above Mash’s shield like a whirlwind, crackling with power. Lightheaded and sore, Ritsuka lowered his hand and waited, letting the sunburned feeling in his Magic Circuits ease.

As the whirl of lights dispersed, someone stepped out of it, taking in her surroundings with a confident glance. She looked roughly his age and height, with sharp blue eyes under heavy brows, and long black hair held to the side with a feathered clasp. Where he could place it at all, her outfit seemed archaic: an open white coat with billowing detached sleeves over a sleeveless black shirt, and what he could only describe as hakama shorts under armored tassets. A long tachi hung at her waist in a furred scabbard, and she wore tall geta on her feet, complete with feathered thongs. A black, winged courtier’s cap perched decoratively atop her head.

As the motes of gold drifted away, the girl’s eyes stopped on his Command Seals, and she drew herself up in front of him with an intense, serious expression. “Ushiwakamaru, arriving as requested! As a samurai, I shall serve you with my whole heart.” She dropped quickly into a deep bow, but popped back up almost immediately, full of barely-contained energy.

At the name, Ritsuka’s eyes went wide, and a small voice in his head started making mildly giddy noises. Stop that, you idiot, this is no time for fanboying! It paid to put his best foot forward with new Servants. Besides, did he really want to embarrass himself in front of a childhood hero?

“Uh… I accept your service, Ushiwakamaru,” he replied, as confidently as he could. She smiled proudly and looked as if she was trying to stand even straighter, if that was possible. Relaxing a little, he went on. “I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, a Master for the Chaldea Security Organization. This is Mash Kyrielight, who’s a Servant and also a staff member, and this is Dr. Romani Archaman, our Acting Director.” Ritsuka and Mash bowed; Dr. Roman nodded and waved. “Thank you for answering our call. We’re still recovering from an attack a few months ago, and Chaldea’s not in great shape, so I hope you’ll bear with us.”

“Of course, my lord! I shall help in any way that I can.” Her eyes shifted to the side. “Although… I am a warrior, not a doctor or craftsman. I will be of more use to you if you still have foes which need defeating.”

“Oh,” Ritsuka said with a wry chuckle, “we aren’t going to run out of those anytime soon.”

“Then my lord may count upon me to help that day come quickly!” Her confident little grin was infectious, and as tired as he was, Ritsuka found himself grinning back.

* * *

Ritual magic was harder work than it looked. The ache in Ritsuka’s circuits faded slowly as he leaned against the wall, listening to Roman explain Chaldea’s situation while he sorted through his new Servant’s capabilities in the weird mental projection da Vinci called the ‘Master’s Perspective’. Mash chimed in with details she thought Roman was forgetting, and Ushiwakamaru nodded along seriously, making “Mm!” and “Hm!” sounds to show she was absorbing the information.

Weird to think he’d summoned his childhood hero. Usually, after summoning a Servant, he’d spend some time with Mash going over their history and stories, but in this case he already knew them by heart. Hopefully that would help him avoid putting his foot in his mouth.

Born in the middle of the 12th century, Ushiwakamaru was the youngest child of the Minamoto Clan head, fostered by her father’s killer, the head of the rival Taira Clan. At the age of eight, she was exiled to Kurama Temple, where she was called ‘Shana-O’ in honor of the temple’s great statue of Roshana Buddha. Instead of taking monastic vows, she took up the sword, calling herself and training under the monk-swordmaster Kiichi Hogen, who may or may not have been the King of the Tengu. In her teens, she left the temple to wander, with a tendency to leave bands of outlaws dead in her wake. Twice, she defeated the equally-legendary warrior monk Musashibou Benkei, who swore himself to her service. 

At sixteen, she took the adult name of Yoshitsune, and a few years later swore her service to her elder half-brother Yoritomo, the new clan head. For the six years of the Genpei War, she led her brother’s armies to victory after victory. She defeated her brothers’ rivals in the Minamoto, and eventually, she crushed the Taira Clan utterly at the Battle of Dan-no-Ura. This effectively gave uncontested control of the nation to Yoritomo, who promptly reduced the Emperor to a figurehead and founded the first Shogunate with himself at the head.

For her loyal service, her brother had her exiled, persecuted, and hunted across the length of Japan. Five years later, Benkei and her last few followers died holding off an army fifty times their size as she committed seppuku . When her assailants brought back her head to Yoritomo, he refused to allow it into his capital. His sister’s exile, he ruled, would persist even in death.

Ritsuka wasn’t going to mention that bit unless he absolutely had to.

“...And that’s about the size of it. We’ve dealt with two out of seven of them so far, and tomorrow we’re sending Ritsuka off to the third one,” Roman finished. Ritsuka noted the erstwhile Director of Chaldea was getting better at summing up their troubles every time he had to explain it to the newest Servant.

“I hope I will be allowed to accompany him, then.” She turned to Ritsuka, eyes bright. “You’ll take me with you, won’t you, my lord? I understand you have other Servants, but please give me the chance to show you what I can do.” She seemed very earnest, and very intent. 

“Uh…” Ritsuka didn’t want to play favorites, but he had literally waved a stick around like a sword and pretended to be her when he was a kid. He did want to see what she could do, and if her Noble Phantasm was based on her exploits in a sea battle... “I’ll sort it out this afternoon, but I think that could work.”

“We’ll have to hurry to boost your Spirit Origin if that’s what he decides. I’ll make a note to… no, you know what? Figuring out whether we’ve got enough on hand is up to your Master, I’ve got enough on my plate already,” Roman said, waving a hand as if to ward off any more duties. “Anyway, do you have any questions about the mess we’re in?”

She turned back to him, shaking her head. “It seems clear enough to me, Lord Romani.”

Roman recoiled. “No noble titles, please! That gave me a chill. I’m just Doctor Roman, or Acting Director if you really have to. Anyway, no questions? Good. Wait, does that mean we’re done early? I might actually be able to eat lunch! That would be -” Romani’s tablet let out a series of beeps. “- too much to ask for,” he finished, slumping. “Right, I’ve got to go organize da Vinci’s requisitions from the essence stores or she’ll come and haul me away by the ear righ t when I’m about to take my first bite... Mash, Ritsuka, make sure to get lunch. If I can’t enjoy Emiya’s cooking, at least somebody ought to.”

“I really will bring you something, Doctor!” Mash called after Roman as he hurried out, muttering about his schedule.

Ritsuka pushed himself off of the wall. “You really don’t have any questions, Ushiwakamaru? I mean… hell, I still do.”

Ushiwakamaru tilted her head, thinking, then straightened up with a smile. “I understand the what and where, and that is enough. The how and why may be beyond me, but for the rest, all I need to know is what you’d have me do. Set me a task, my lord, and I shall accomplish it.”

“Most of the time it really is that straightforward.” Mash nodded. “Da Vinci can usually be relied on to figure out the technical parts, and Senpai is quite good with orders in the field.”

“Anybody’s orders would look good with a bunch of superheroes carrying them out.” Ritsuka’s stomach rumbled. He glanced down at it. “But, right now my orders are…” He pointed to the door. “Let’s go eat.”

“Ha! A welcome command indeed, my lord!” Ushiwakamaru pivoted and strode toward the door, before stopping short. “Wait, I don’t actually need to eat. Is it all right if I waste resources like that?” Despite her obvious effort, she sounded caught between responsibility and hunger.

“It’s fine, we’ve got plenty for now. I wouldn’t feel okay eating if you had to just watch,” Ritsuka said. “Servants are people too.”

Mash made a worried face. “I can’t imagine what would happen if we told the Servants they couldn’t eat, especially not with Emiya cooking.”

“That’s one way to get the bad ending,” Ritsuka said, shooing them out the door.

Chapter Text

September 27, 2017

Subject: Longest Summer Job Ever

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]

Dear Mom, Dad, and Aki,

Hello from Chaldea Security Organization headquarters!

I hope that when you read this, you’re doing well and everything is going fine. I’’m sure you’ve been worried about me, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to write to you, I’ve got a reminder on my phone that says ‘June 25: Call home after orientation’, but a bunch of stuff happened right after that and I didn’t have the chance to call. It was a busy day, and since then we’ve been experiencing a really world-class service outage.

The short version is that this summer job is significantly more than I bargained for, and it looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while. Not that I’m exactly sure where here is. I’m not sure how much sense any of this is going to make, but here goes…

* * *

Chaldea’s cafeteria at lunchtime wasn’t exactly a madhouse. There was plenty of room - the whole population of the complex, Servant and mortal, could’ve been seated there three times over or more.But as Ritsuka had learned, Servants expanded to fill the available space.

A shout came from Cu Cuhainn. “Oi, Master! C’mere and call this big idiot off!!” The request was punctuated by an incoherent bellow that sounded like Lu Bu.

Ritsuka looked longingly at the kitchen counter. It seemed like every time he stepped into the cafeteria, someone needed his attention.

“Do you want us to get you something?” Mash asked.

Ritsuka waffled, then shook his head. “Go ahead and get in line. I’m just going to hope this doesn’t take too long.”

Mash shook her head. “I’ll come with you, then.” Ushiwakamaru nodded in agreement.

“If you want.” Not that he minded the backup. Ritsuka braced himself and headed toward the loudest table in the cafeteria.

With his enormous arms folded, Lu Bu Fengxian glared across the table at an irate Cu. Both Servants were on their feet, their meals cooling in front of them. Cu had called out his spear and looked both annoyed and ready to fight. Neither of those were uncommon for him, though, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

“Hey, Cu, what’s -”

“I don’t know what your problem is, big man.” Ignoring Ritsuka completely, Cu leveled Gae Bolg one-handed at Lu Bu. “If you’ve got an issue, you can say your piece, or you can bring out that silly weapon of yours so we can, heh, discuss it. Either way, stop hollerin’ at me while I’m eatin’!”

Ritsuka rapped his knuckles on the table to get their attention. “Okay, hang on. Lu Bu, what -”

Neither paid him any heed. Lu Bu’s bellowed again, and his halberd dropped into his hand. Okay, it was as bad as it looked.

A pair of geta clacked on the table in front of him. 

Wait, what the -

Ushiwakamaru’s sword swept down in a silver blur between the two Servants. In an imperious tone, she said, “Put up your weapons and be silent when your lord is speaking! Have you no shame? If you do not, I shall be sure to teach it to you.” She glared down at the bickering Servants from atop the table.

Into the silence that followed, Ritsuka said, “Uh, that might be a bit much, but, thanks, Ushiwakamaru.“

“Of course, my lord!”

“Also, everyone, meet Ushiwakamaru. She’s our new Rider.” There was a chorus of greetings from the tables around them, mostly enthusiastic. Ushiwakamaru bowed without taking her eyes off of the Servants in front of her, who’d stopped arguing with each other in favor of glaring up at her.

Ritsuka put his hands gently on the table and started defusing the situation. “Hey. Hey! Lu Bu, buddy,” The Berserker slowly turned his white-eyed glare from Ushiwakamaru to Ritsuka. “Did someone say something that bothered you?”

Lu Bu tossed his head back and roared an affirmative.

Ritsuka turned to Cu, who shrugged. “Hey, don’t look at me, I didn’t say a damn thing I shouldn’t’ve. Boudica was showin’ off her chariot this mornin’, and I said, even if I’m no Rider right now, mine was better and had better horses -”

Wordlessly, Lu Bu slammed a fist into his other hand with a sound like a gunshot.

Aha. There was the thread; he just needed to follow it. “You were bragging about your horses?” RItsuka asked.

“Aye! They could gallop ‘round Eire in a day! Liath Macha took a magic spear meant for me, then got back up, killed near two hundred men, and led my friend to my corpse after I was dead! Can’t ask much more of a horse than that, can you? I tell you, he and his brother were the greatest horses that ever…” Cu took stock of Lu Bu’s fists clenching slowly, and cocked a grin at the bigger man. “Ohhhh, now I get it. You think whatever spavined gelding you rode could match up to -“

“Don’t!” Ritsuka held up a hand, and, bless any gods that were watching, Cu closed his mouth. Lu Bu snorted, his face contorted in fury, and Ritsuka would swear steam jetted out of his nostrils. The big Berserker was supposed to have had some kind of legendary steed, too, right? “Hey, Mash? Can you tell us about…” What the hell was its name again? “About Red Hare?”

“Yes, Senpai!” Mash’s eyes lit up, because of course she could. “In the Three Kingdoms period of China, the saying went, ‘Among men, Lu Bu; among steeds, Red Hare.’ Red Hare was a stallion who was said to run a thousand li in a day, and cross rivers and mountains as if they were flat plains. He was given as a gift to Lu Bu, then after his death, to Guan Yu, a warrior so gifted that he was deified as a god of war. When both men were dead, Red Hare starved himself to death, refusing to be ridden by lesser men.”

Cu made a considering face. “Hooh, a proud one, then? Aye, I’ll admit this Red Hare sounds like a beast I’d not have been ashamed to have hitched to my chariot. But I’ll not back down. Liath Macha was the greatest there ever was or will be.” He chuckled. “It’s a shame we can’t have ‘em race it out, but it ain’t as if we can summon them up ourselves, now. More’s the pity.” Wistfulness briefly passed across Cu’s face.

Lu Bu thumped his chest and made a grasping motion at Cu Cullhain, then ground his hands together with another incomprehensible yell.

“Well, aye, if it’s a fight about it you want, you’ve come to the right man,” Cu said eagerly.

Lu Bu shook his head. Ritsuka held up a hand again, mind racing as he watched Lu Bu’s body language. He seemed fighting mad , but not up in arms. “Wait, wait, no, not a fight. Um… a competition?” The Berserker nodded and stamped his foot. Ritsuka smiled with relief and understanding. Okay, now he had it. He turned to Cu and said, “Lu Bu wants a race with you to settle it. A footrace.” He glanced at Lu Bu, gauging the big Servant’s expression, then back to Cu. “Obviously it’s not the same as if your horses were competing, but it’d be more unfitting to resolve it with a fight, even if they were both warhorses.”

Lu Bu nodded his head again, regally. Ritsuka relaxed a little.

Cu stared at Ritsuka, then looked to Lu Bu as a genuine, if slightly mocking, smile came over his face. “Huh! Who would’ve thought such a hard man’d be a soft touch for a horse? All right, you’re on. But you’re going to regret the day you challenged the Child of Light to a footrace.”

Lu Bu’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a ‘hmph’. Ritsuka was pretty sure nobody needed his interpretation for that one.

Cu spun his spear back into the ether and came around the table to clap Lu Bu on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go find a track. Wouldn’t mind hearin’ more about this horse of yours on the way, even if it is going t’lose by proxy…” Lu Bu rumbled in undecipherable agreement, and the two of them wandered away, meal forgotten.

Well, that could’ve gone worse , Ritsuka thought. He let out a long, relieved breath.

“They were a little disrespectful, but fierce,” Ushiwakamaru said, sheathing her sword.

“Eh, we’re not big on formality around here,” he said, then glanced up. “Uh, Ushiwakamaru?” She looked down over her shoulder at him. “You should probably get off the table now.”

“Oh! Of course, my lord.” Ushiwakamaru sheathed her sword and leapt down. As her geta left the tabletop, it split neatly into two halves where her sword had passed. Each side wobbled independently and then toppled, spilling Cu Chulainn and Lu Bu’s uneaten meals onto the floor.

Looking at the mess, she hesitated, then sighed, and in a downcast voice said, “…I shall find a bucket and cloth, my lord.”

“…And I’ll get the mop,” Ritsuka said. His stomach protested audibly.

“Here, Master,” said Emiya’s dry voice from behind him. Ritsuka turned and was surprised as an onigiri was placed in his hand. Mash was already contentedly biting into one. Emiya gave Ushiwkamaru a flat look and tossed another one to her. “And you, stay off the tables from now on. This isn’t the Gojo Bridge.”

“If my lord so commands,” she said, frowning back at him.

Unimpressed, Emiya glanced pointedly at the rice ball in her hands and repeated, “Stay off the tables from now on or you don’t eat from my kitchen.”

Staring at the Archer challengingly, Ushiwakamaru took a bite. Her eyes went wide,. She made a pleased sound and bowed to the Archer. “It shall be as you say!”

“At least you stopped those two idiots from having a brawl here, Master.” Emiya shook his head in resignation. “We’ve got a mission to prepare for, right? You eat. I’ll clean up.” A dustpan and broom appeared in his hands out of a haze of blue light.

“Thanks, Emiya.” Ritsuka took a bite of the rice ball. It was, of course, delicious.

* * *

…know our family’s dabbled in magic stuff since Grandpa’s stint in the Pacific War, but I feel like I wasn’t very well prepared. You know, I grew up with some basic assumptions about the world that have turned out to be hilarious misapprehensions. Take death - it’s not nearly as final as anyone says, at least not if you’re awesome enough. And don’t get me started on that old chestnut ‘linear time’, it’s basically a suggestion. What else did we get wrong, physics?

Okay, sure, I would be fine with physics being less real if it meant mecha that could violate the square-cube law, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Don’t give me that look, sis! You knew who your brother was years ago. You shouldn’t have said you couldn’t tell the difference between ‘all those Gundam robots’ if you didn’t want me to go into detail about it, should you?

Come to think of it, if you ever get to read this, I don’t know how much sense it’ll make. Will you have lived the intervening time, or will everyone just pop back where they were when it all went up in flames? Will clocks all spin backwards? Will you have seen all the good summer movies already or will everyone get to catch up on the 2017 releases together? Nobody left seems to know. If you do end up living that time, I’m counting on you to stop Aki from spoiling Spider-Man: Homecoming for me.

It’s going to be a while before my next letter. I wish I could write more tonight, but I have to get some sleep. We’re off to the sixteenth century tomorrow, and we’ll probably be there for a month at least.

I promise that sentence actually makes more sense than it sounds.

Sorry if this stuff worries you. I’m just kind of holding on as best I can to the things I’m used to, and that means talking to you all, even if you can’t understand or answer back. I feel really unmoored from the world these days, you know? Chaldea HQ is nothing like… I was going to say ‘real life’, but it’s real enough. Maybe too real. I guess what I mean is that having everything be extraordinary instead of ordinary is tough. It’s like riding a roller coaster and being scared and excited at the same time.

I get to do something good and exciting and necessary, for as long as I can stand it, but I have to stand it because it’s necessary, even when I want to get off the roller coaster. Even if I didn’t want everything to be normal all the time, I do miss there being such a thing as normal. It’d be nice to be able to opt out of the crazy for a while.

Ritsuka sighed and sat back in his chair. The gritty feeling in his eyes reminded him that he really shouldn’t be up late the night before a Rayshift, but most of the Servants wouldn’t barge into his room when he was supposed to be asleep. Late at night was the only time he could expect any privacy, so it was when he wrote his letters. 

It was probably a bad idea to send these emails. At best, his family was in a Schrödinger box, dead or alive depending on future events. But the staff therapist hadn’t survived Orientation Day, Dr. Roman was kind but didn’t inspire that kind of confidence, and Da Vinci either wouldn’t understand or would understand far too much. Mash was his closest friend, but it didn’t seem fair to dump his problems on her; she’d gone through the same shit he had, and she already had the hardest job in Chaldea, namely keeping him alive. Emiya was a rock, but he was a pretty jagged one to lean on, definitely a For Emergencies Only kind of confidant.

He needed to reach out to someone , though. In his more optimistic moments, he figured that if the world miraculously came back, the chances of anyone who mattered noticing a few weird emails seemed slim. The rest of the time, he just figured no one would ever get to read it. It was therapy, of a sort, though it took an effort to try to write as if he was talking to living people he remembered, and not just running his hands through the ashes of a dead world.

I miss deciding what to eat and ordering out, and bantering with Yamagi and Tanaka at lunch in school. I miss walking back from school in the rain and getting snacks at the corner store. I miss putting off taking the garbage out by arguing with Aki about who was supposed to have taken the garbage out. I miss Doji-ojisan next door. I even miss studying math, and you know how I feel about math. Oh, here’s a weird one - I really miss the sound of traffic. Chaldea’s not what I’d call quiet, but the background noise is really different.

I miss things making sense. I miss not feeling like if I fumble things it won’t be the end of the world. I miss not feeling afraid. I don’t think I remember the last time I wasn’t afraid.

I miss a lot of stuff, but I miss you all the most.

Love to all of you,

Fujimaru Ritsuka

Ritsuka caught himself scrolling back to the beginning of the letter to read it over again and made himself stop. The clock read ‘01:35 AM’ when he glanced at it, and he winced. He had to be on the ball the next day. Weary in a way that went beyond sleep, he thought, I miss when the only risk from staying up late was falling asleep in class.

Yeah. He missed a lot of things.

Ritsuka wiped his eyes with his hand, blinked away the remaining unshed tears, and made himself hit ‘Send’.

Notice To Employees: All emails are subject to review by compliance officers before transmission. Messages containing proprietary technical / thaumaturgical / historical data, breaches of Mystery, information from times postdating the message timestamp, or any other information covered by NDA will be flagged and held without transmission. Violations may result in disciplinary action up to and including loss of pay, Association sanctions, memory alteration, and termination. For further information, contact the Security and Compliance Office at [email protected].

—

No active compliance admin accounts found in the past 30 days. Sending message. Messages sent may be subject to retroactive review.

—

Message could not be sent. Delivery error: Host unreachable. Message has been placed in the queue and will be sent when connectivity allows. For further information, contact Network Administration at [email protected] .

That… was about what he’d expected. Still, having it out there felt like his load had lightened, just a little.

It took an ironically heroic effort to stand up, but the stiffness tomorrow from falling asleep in his chair would be a lot worse than the annoyance tonight of getting himself over to the bed. Hopefully, sleep would show him more of his friends’ past lives. These days, his own dreams were full of unpleasant memories. If he had to dream of violence, he’d rather it be someone else’s experiences he relived.

He staggered to his bed and dropped onto it with a thump, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

September 28, 2017

Ritsuka really wished the Rayshift Coffins had a better nickname, especially when he was climbing into one.

If he tried, he could probably remember the official designation, but only the automated announcements ever used it. Everyone else, himself included, called them the Coffins. It was fitting, he guessed. After all, they were padded, oblong caskets just big enough for a single person, and they held your meat body after your spirit left it.

He didn’t object to the Coffins themselves, really. Certainly, Ritsuka had no interest in repeating his first, Coffin-free and also safety precaution-free Rayshift, but… couldn’t they have called them ‘Pods’ or ‘Tanks’ or something? He had a bone to pick with whoever had coined the nickname, just like he did with whoever designed that skin-tight combat suit, someone who was clearly aware of Evangelion but was somehow unaware it wasn’t a morale booster for a teenager climbing into a big metal techno-pod to save the world.

Still, here he was in front of one, watching the casket-hinged lid hiss open for him. Shut up and get in the time machine, Ritsuka.

He didn’t let his fear show as he pulled the lid closed. It locked with a thunk . There was a moment of brief, intense claustrophobia when the tiny window on the front was the only source of light. Then the interior lit up, the heads-up display blinking to life with the faces of his teammates.

Mash, bless her heart, looked like the only thing breaking her focus was the worry that she might not be focused enough. Andersen was quietly ranting at Cu Chulainn about some movie musical of his life he’d come across in the archives. The Chevalier d’Eon and Jing Ke both looked as if they didn’t have a care in the world, one quiet and perfectly poised, the other practically lounging in the Coffin as she hummed a jaunty tune. In contrast, Emiya, Ritsuka’s first-summoned Servant, was letting his dislike for the Coffins leak through his stoic expression. The last image showed Ushiwakamaru taking everything in with a look half fascinated by the process and half wary about what she’d gotten herself into.

Off in the control booth, Dr. Roman finished consulting with the technicians and bent back to his console. The intercom in front of Ritsuka crackled to life with Roman’s cheery voice. “All right! Third Grand Order team, we’ve completed our final checks. Coordinates are set, and your Rayshift to the Okeanos Singularity will begin in thirty seconds. We’ll be in contact as soon as you get there. Good luck, everyone, and keep your heads above water!”

God dammit, Roman. Ritsuka slowly bonked his forehead against the inside of the Coffin as a few groans and at least one disgusted-sounding Gaelic insult sounded over the team comms. Ritsuka could see the Acting Director chuckling to himself in the control booth. At least he’d had the courtesy to turn off his microphone so they didn’t hear his laughter.

A calm, androgynous voice came from his pod’s speakers. “Vital signs from Spiritron Chassis One, Provisional Master #48 Fujimaru Ritsuka: nominal. Vital signs and Spirit Core reading from Spiritron Chassis Two, Demi-Servant Mash Kyrielight: nominal. Spirit Core readings from Spiritron Chassis Three through Eight: nominal. Operators now establishing continuous proof-of-existence observation.” Its calm voice was the same as when he’d first heard it, unaffected by the death and danger around them, sending him and Mash out of one burning catastrophe into another.

Back into the fire again, Ritsuka thought, a chill running down his spine. He fought the sudden impulse to throw open the Coffin’s lid and leap out. People were counting on him, no matter how much he might wish otherwise, and he wouldn’t give up on them.

Instead, he found himself murmuring along with the voice despite the unsettling associations. “Unsummon Program, start. Spiritron Conversion, start.” His vision seemed to twist slightly, as if the world were suddenly being filmed at a Dutch angle. A faint pins-and-needles sensation ran across his whole body, a feeling as familiar as the voice, dredging up the worst parts of the last few months.

Visceral memories ran through his mind in quick succession. A blackened skeleton cut at him with a grimy sword. Director Animusphere shrieked her soul bare as she drifted inexorably towards a drawn-out death. Dragonfire glowed like cloud lightning through the smoky haze above a burning hamlet. Dead-eyed Roman legionnaires marched toward him in lockstep.

“All procedures cleared,” the announcement said. “Rayshift starting in 3, 2, 1…”

He took one last deep breath of 2017. It smelled like steel and ozone and the faint whiff of ice Chaldea’s air always seemed to hold.

“Grand Order commencing operation,” Ritsuka and the voice said together.

A new gravity took hold of him, and he fell out of himself into the bright spiral of the past.

Chapter Text

Okeanos, September 28, 2017

Coming out of a Rayshift was like waking from a dream of circling stars in a timeless void to find oneself in an unfamiliar place.

For Ushiwaka, it was a strangely familiar sensation. Wondering why that was would have to wait, since in this case the unfamiliar place was the deck of an enormous sailing ship, surrounded by armed sailors. The sailors were just as surprised as the Chaldean team at their sudden appearance, and from the looks of it, much more upset.

Next to her, Lord Fujimaru looked around at the scruffy, bewildered crew slowly gathering to surround their group, and the reinforcements thumping up the stairs from below decks in response to their shouts of alarm, and sighed in disbelief. “God damn it, Roman.”

“Dr. Roman… if you have any excuses, let’s hear them.” On the other side of Fujimaru, Kyrielight raised her shield, but spared a moment to glare at the Chaldean doctor’s projection as it appeared beside them.

“Fou,” agreed the fuzzy white creature on Kyrielight’s shoulder, sounding annoyed.

Although she didn’t speak up, Ushiwaka didn’t quite understand the problem. Perhaps they were less used to being suddenly surrounded by hostile ruffians than she was. It seemed more like an opportunity to her; they were going to need a boat, clearly, so why not commandeer this one? Fifty-odd pirates to six Servants and one Master barely sounded like a warmup. The other Servants mostly seemed to be taking it in stride; Andersen had thrown his hands up in the air in annoyance, and Emiya was making the sort of face one made when one was too jaded to facepalm, but none of them seemed worried. Was she missing something?

“ Uh… Murphy’s law?” the doctor’s hologram offered. When the only response this produced was silence, he continued, “Wouldn’t you say it's rather beneficial to have transport immediately available?”   Ushiwaka made a tch sound and frowned, annoyed at having her own thoughts presented as a blatant excuse for a mistake.

By then, the whole pirate crew had assembled to menace the seven Chaldeans. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but…” The loudest of the pirates shrugged, then drew a cutlass and roared, “Get ‘em, boys!”

“Don’t kill them!” Lord Fujimaru shouted in response.

Usumidori was already clearing its sheath on its way to the nearest pirate’s throat when she heard the command, and her eyes went wide in alarm. There was no time to ask why he cared what happened to these worthless bandits; if she violated her lord’s direct command with her first swing, she’d have no choice but to return to the Throne in disgrace!

Chagrined, she twisted her wrist and elbow mid-swing and managed to bring the side of her blade hard against her target’s temple instead of its edge against his neck. She cringed inside to imagine what her mentor would think of the awkward strike, but it did its job, and the fellow was still breathing when he crumpled.

Very well, no killing, she told herself. Presumably no permanent maiming, either; better safe than sorry! At least it will be some sort of a challenge this way.

The ruffian behind that one shouted, leveling some kind of tube-and-handle contraption at her. A ‘gun’, she realized, plucking the name and function from the knowledge granted by her summoning. It seemed they used tiny fireworks to propel metal balls - strange, innovative, yet somehow boring. She slipped around the man’s toppling comrade and kicked the unfamiliar weapon from his hand before he triggered it, sending it out into the ocean. A few fingers broke, but he wouldn’t die from it, and her follow-up to the head with Usumidori’s pommel ensured he wouldn’t be in pain either, at least until he woke up.

She shifted her grip to better avoid striking edge-on and looked for her next victim. Two down in four seconds was distressingly slow; she’d have to pick up the pace if she wanted to show her new lord what she could do.

The violence that followed was over too quickly to be called a fight, or even a rout; the pirates didn't have time to even try to run. By the time the Servants had stopped swinging, most of the pirates were incapacitated and the rest cowed. Emiya held half a dozen sailors at half a dozen swords’ points. Cu Culhainn had left another handful bleeding and moaning. Jing Ke had a knife to the throat of one of the ship’s less scruffy sailors, possibly an officer. The only real trouble had been when one of the pirates managed to take a shot at Lord Fujimaru, but Kyrielight had intercepted the bullet and then very deliberately broken the offender’s shooting arm in two places. Ushiwaka heartily approved.

The loud pirate who’d called for the attack was apologizing profusely to her lord from his knees. Fujimaru smiled back with what looked like genuine goodwill, and maybe a hint of pity. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s partly our fault for showing up like this. Look, let’s try this again. I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, and these are my friends. I think Mash here wants to ask you some questions, okay?”

* * *

Okeanos, November 25, 2017

Head down, Ritsuka ran up the island trail faster than he’d ever run in his life. The distant roaring from his pursuer should not have been able to come from a human throat, and the ground trembled with each footstep behind him. Months of experience let him force the rising panic back down where it had to stay.

Being chased by Heracles was like being chased by an avalanche. You couldn’t stand up to something like that. You couldn’t even get out of the way. You just tried to outpace it and hope it stopped before it caught you, for whatever reason. Of course, this avalanche was after him, personally, and it wasn’t going to stop until he was a bloody smear on the ground.

Because everything was going according to plan.

He hated this plan. It was a terrible plan. He hated that all the other plans were worse. He really hated that he’d been the one who proposed this plan.

A few paces ahead, Euryale turned and snapped, “Can’t you run any faster, human?”

He really, really hated this plan.

Ritsuka gave the little goddess as cross a look as he could spare, which wasn’t much. Despite her evident fear, she sniffed indignantly and darted up the trail, pulling ahead of him with ease. Trying to goad him into running faster, or just naturally annoying? He wasn’t sure. For the hundredth time, he was grateful for his time on the track team and Leonidas’ insistent training; his lungs burned, but he could keep going.

Two more switchbacks to the cave with the Ark, unless he’d lost track of his instructions. No, there was the blue cloth for the second marker. The Servants had scouted the path and marked the trail for him. He just had to get to the end, no matter what, before the disaster caught up.

His life in miniature.

Another roar came from closer behind him - much too close. Euryale, a dozen paces ahead by now, let out a tiny shriek, but to his shock fell back to stick with him instead of pulling ahead. The force of Heracles’ footsteps behind him nearly made him lose his footing.

He fought down the fear and kept running. If his allies weren’t on the ball he was going to die before he made it to the next turn in the trail. But he wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t, because they wouldn’t let him down. Believing that was the only thing that had let him propose this stupid plan in the first place. They wouldn’t make him regret it any more than he already did, would they?

Like a magic trick, a figure in green and gold appeared atop a branch up the trail, bow raised. Whistling blurs sped over his head and shoulders, close enough that the wind of their passage whipped his hair. He ignored it and kept running. Atalante wasn’t going to hit anything she didn’t intend to, and he didn’t have the time to be relieved. Despite the arrows, the thunderous footsteps behind him hadn’t wavered for a moment.

“Mash Kyrielight, engaging the enemy!” Mash burst from the bushes beneath Atalante’s perch and charged down the trail towards him at automobile speed. Behind him, he heard a bass growl and the whoosh of something huge swinging. Mash leapt over his head with a defiant shout, raising her shield as she passed him.

The world shook around him, ringing like a gong. Pressure blasted Ritsuka from behind, driving him down and forward, and he barely managed to tuck himself into a roll instead of simply sprawling. He groaned with pain as he staggered to his feet; it sounded like he’d stuffed cotton in his ears. When he looked up, he couldn’t hear what Euryale was shouting at him, though from the look of it, it was shrill and panicked. Too dizzy to run, he turned to look behind him.

Not ten feet away, Mash rose up off of her knees where Heracles’ cleaver had driven her, shield still vibrating. The Berserker roared and brought his weapon down at Mash again. She caught it, struggled, and surged back upwards with a shout, throwing it off. Another spray of arrows flew over Mash’s shoulders, notching the Berserker’s chest and face but doing no real damage. Mash deflected another swing of Heracles’ weapon off to the side into a large tree, which didn’t so much shatter as detonate. Ritsuka could picture very well what that would’ve done to him, and wished he didn’t have such a good imagination.

Eyes on the fight, Ritsuka staggered backwards up the trail, right hand raised. Command Seals only took a word to use, but the instinct to gesture was still there.

Mash tried to vault a low strike from Heracles, but it clipped her shield, sending her spinning. Before she could recover, the Berserker’s huge, stony fist crashed into her side. Ritsuka only had time to open his mouth to shout before Mash blinked out like an image from a changed channel, revealing only splinters that had been a kanji-marked log a moment ago. Thank you, Kotarou , Ritsuka thought through his relief.

A man-sized shuriken glanced off of Heracles’ head, not moving it a centimeter but drawing Heracles’ snarling attention. Suddenly, the Berserker was surrounded by a trio of identical red-haired shinobi, bounding circles around him, trying to keep him off-balance. One of them was pulped by a swift blow, but apparently not the right one, because after it faded into smoke, the other two remained to chip their blades against his skin before leaping away. 

Heracles spun after them with a roar only to find Emiya intercepting the blow, turning it with black-and-white swords that shattered in his hands just from deflecting the strike. Ushiwakamaru shot past him, whirling like a cyclone to slash the back of the Berserker’s legs. Ritsuka could see the frustration on her face as Heracles didn’t so much as turn his head at her attacks. Again and again, Heracles slammed his axe-sword down at Emiya, and again and again, Emiya slipped aside or spent its force destroying his endless, disposable blades. When Emiya began to falter, the Chevalier d’Eon stepped before him as if it was planned, their rapier striking at Heracles’ eyes, throat, and heart like a wasp’s stinger, doing no damage but impossible to ignore. Emiya fell back to regroup with Ushiwaka for another try.

Ritsuka shook his head, trying to control his fear. All this coordination, all this effort from so many heroes, just to distract him. If they couldn’t get the Ark to kill him, he couldn’t imagine what else they could try.

No matter how badly he wanted a few more seconds to catch his breath, Ritsuka’s head had cleared and his lungs had stopped burning. They couldn’t afford any more time. He turned away from the fight and ran up the trail. “Atalante!” he shouted, hearing himself as if he were under water. “Break off before we reach the next turn! If he loses sight of us he might go cross-country!” The Berserker had his sights set on Ritsuka and Euryale, but if he didn’t have an obvious target he might think of cutting them off instead of chasing them, and they’d be in far deeper trouble than they already were.

Atalante nodded as her hands blurred, loosing another volley past him. “Lady Artemis is waiting to cover you after the turn, Master. Don’t stop for anything.”

As he passed Atalante, Euryale fell into step beside him again. She looked back over her shoulder, and he worried she was going to fall behind, but she mouthed ‘Asterios’, and anger replaced the fear on her face. She shot him a glare. “Hurry up so we can kill him,” she snapped, and passed him by.

Behind them, the furious Son of Zeus roared again, cutting through the ringing in his ears. Ritsuka ran after her without daring to look back.

Chapter Text

Okeanos , November 25, 2017

The Golden Hind raced across the endless ocean, splitting the waves into spray before it. At the prow, Drake spun the wheel and laughed like a madwoman. Even with the crew below decks, the ship still seemed to leap to turn for her, sails and yards adjusting themselves as it made a broad turn around what was left of the Argo. She might not be a Servant, but whatever she’d done with the Grail had made the Hind more than a simple ship.

Balanced atop the Hind’s rail, Ushiwakamaru leaned into the turn as she severed the wrists of yet another Dragontooth Warrior while it attempted to clamber aboard. The splash from its fall was lost in the churning seas. She’d lost count of how many she’d destroyed; there weren’t enough of them to take part of the deck, but they showed no signs of stopping. They were just distractions, she knew.

She raised her eyes to look at the real foe. A hundred meters across the water, a waving tendril of armored, purple flesh studded with eyes stretched from sea to sky. The obscene thing didn’t so much ride upon the Argo as engulf it. Only the curving prow and a few yards of the rear deck extended beyond the roots it had wound through the ship. Its discordant church-organ roars shook the air as it salvoed bolts of fire at Drake’s ship. Dragon-tooth soldiers tore themselves from its roots by the dozens and flung themselves into the ocean to splash awkwardly toward the Hind.

Until a few minutes ago, the thing had been Jason, leader of the Argonauts, but some rite of his young wife had transformed him into… that. From the little Ushiwaka had seen of him, she considered it an act of expedited karma.

Luckily, the Hind was packed with Archer-class Servants from across the Singularity, and most of the incoming magic was picked off by counter-fire. The projectiles colliding and detonating overhead sounded like constant, rolling thunder. The Archers weren’t accomplishing much against the Pillar itself, though, thanks to the young Princess Medea drifting in the air beside it. Occasionally, the girl would lash out with a volley of sorcerous beams, but most of her effort seemed to be on maintaining some sort of field around the Pillar that bathed it in what looked like cycles of dim and bright moonlight. Each time the light faded and started to brighten again, the wounds the Archers had inflicted on the pillar had vanished.

“Medea! Ushiwaka! Over here!”

At her lord’s call, Ushiwaka scanned the rail for more boarders, found none for the moment, and hurried to where he and his Servants huddled in the lee of Kyrielight’s shield.

Their Master looked exhausted. No surprise there; half an hour ago he’d been running from a berserk demigod. “Okay, we’ve got to end this.” he said, looking over each of his Servants. “Roman says that thing’s not going to run out of steam before we do. No matter how well we’re holding out now, we’ll get whittled down eventually, but we’re not making any headway like this. Medea, do you think you can break that field the Princess put up?”

Medea sniffed. “If I can get close, I can undo anything that poor innocent fool has made. Someone may have to play the sacrificial lamb for me to reach it, though. My wings won’t get me through this firefight.”

Lord Fujimaru shook his head. “Let’s not. Kotarou, can your ninjutsu cover her?”

Next to him, the Assassin gave a nod that was almost a bow, red hair bobbing over his eyes. “I vow she will get there, Lord Fujimaru. If my skills fail, then I shall be the lamb she requires.”

Medea gave Kotarou an amused such-a-sweet-boy look, but Lord Fujimaru was having none of it. He shook a finger at both of them. “No, no lambs! Get Medea in, get both of you out, that’s the job.” Both of them gave very different nods of assent. “Okay, then. Drake’s steering the ship, her crew’s hiding because they’re smarter than me, and the other locals are giving covering fire, so that leaves us. Ushiwaka, see if you can hold the boarders coming up the right side, but -”

“Starboard, Senpai,” Kyrielight interjected quietly, angling her shield. One of young Medea’s long-range beams struck it and deflected away with a sizzling sound.

Fujimaru went on without missing a beat. “Thanks, the starboard side, but don’t let them pin you down. When you hear Medea do her thing, hit that pillar with everything you’ve got as fast as you can.”

“Watch me, my lord,” she said, bobbing her head and smiling.

Fujimaru’s mouth twitched as though he wanted to laugh but couldn’t spare the time or energy. Then he was on to the next Servant, as preoccupied as before. “Sanson, take the lef… port side, and keep all the bones occupied after Ushiwaka makes her move so Mash can pay attention to those beams. Mash…” He made a sound between a laugh and a weary exhalation. “You know what to do. Don’t let me die, please.” Kyrielight hefted her enormous shield as if in demonstration; another barrage of beams spattered off of it. “Any objections?”

The Servants were silent.

Lord Fujimaru looked pale, but his voice was steady as he nodded. “Okay. Here we - “

There was another dead-whalesong bellow from the tower, the kind which by now Ushi knew presaged a serious bombardment. “Incoming!” Kyrielight yelled, leaning into her shield. Ushi crammed herself in close behind with her lord and the other Servants. There was a shrieking whistle, and something hit the shield so hard the Shielder’s feet cracked the deck beneath her. Kyrielight let out a grunt through gritted teeth, but held steady as a wash of noxious wind and purple fire blew past around them.

Before the blast had settled, Fujimaru shouted, “Go!” over the noise. The Servants went, bursting through the remaining wisps of foul-smelling flame. Waving the fumes away from her face with a sleeve, Ushi spotted a group of boarders coming over the rail her lord had charged her with guarding. Before they could organize themselves, she leapt among them.

Battle was where she lived. It wasn’t just the excitement she craved, but something else she found there that she had no name for, that time when all the parts of her finally aligned, and she could stop reining herself in from moment to moment. Once swords were out, there was no more impatience, no more aimless longing or frustration. There was only herself, her goal, and the path she would cut through the world moment by moment to reach it.

Her sword Usumidori flashed green as the spring leaves it was named for as she dove through the first rank of the skeletal warriors, taking a leg from the one on her left and an arm from the one on her right. Then she was past them, another slash forcing one back over the rail before it was halfway up. One cut at her from behind, and she vaulted up and back to remove its head from above.

Movement was the key, as always. Enough of these clattering things around her might drag her down - not that she’d let that happen! The shame of being bested by mere conjured minions would be too much to bear. Survival meant keeping her foes off-balance and being aware of everything around her. For half a minute, she darted in and out, keeping them contained and focused on her, but only tearing into them when she could bring all her skill and attention to bear on one or two of them.

Thunder pealed over the water. She heard the sorceress shout, too far off to grasp the words, but she’d been with this crew long enough to recognize the cadence of Medea invoking her Noble Phantasm. The field of moonlight around the pillar cracked like an egg and started to dissolve, letting the sunlight illuminate the disgusting Pillar more clearly.

Ushi narrowed her eyes. Time to show her lord what she was made of.

Her blade took the head of one last Warrior as it tried to bar her way, and she leapt to the rail of the ship, perching on it like a crow. She leaned forward until she had to catch herself with one hand, aiming herself like an arrow. Ushiwakamaru spoke the name of her legend and felt the World’s attention fall upon her. 

“The Wandering Tales of Shana-O, Act Four: Dan-no-Ura Eight-Boat Leap! ”

The rail splintered behind her as she leapt almost horizontally toward an overturned jolly-boat that had fallen from the deck. Landing lightly, she took two blurred steps along its length and leapt again. She skipped toward the Argo across the water, finding footholds where none should exist, on torn-off planks and floating wreckage, on the very surface of the water when there was nothing else to use. Every step increased her speed instead of spending it. Reality tried to assert itself, to remind the World that physics didn’t work that way, but for these few moments the World was blind to anything except the tale of her excellence. 

One last vault off of a piece of flotsam sent her arcing high above the ocean toward her target. At the peak of her leap, she felt a surge of power in her limbs, reinforcement from her lord’s Mystic Code. He was paying attention! Good, just in time to see what she could really do.

With crystal clarity, she watched the Demon Pillar rush toward her. Inevitably, the monstrosity saw her coming, too - it could scarcely not, with all those eyes - and spewed a salvo of firebolts to stop her. Too focused to scoff at the attempt, Ushi twisted in midair and let the turbulence corkscrew her a few feet to the side. The spells scorched her sleeves but missed flesh, and a twist the other way set her back on course.

She passed the Pillar close enough to brush it with her shoulder if she wished, and Usumidori flared green in her hands as she struck. That ancient blade was never one to be deterred by a monster’s hide; she felt the familiar, faint resistance of her blade shearing through flesh and gristle, and then it came free, completing the arc of her swing with another flash of green.

Then she was skidding across the few meters of open deck past the tower of flesh, geta digging furrows into the Argo ’s planks as she came to a halt. The world’s sensibilities closed around her again, and once more she was merely superhuman instead of superlative. She whirled into a fighting stance facing back the way she’d come, ready to strike again. The heaviness of her limbs told her that her magical energy was low, and she hoped she wouldn’t need to follow up, but while she’d never admit it, she wasn’t entirely confident she’d finished the thing off.

With a soggy crunching sound like a rotten tree toppling magnified a thousand times, the pillar sagged and fell sideways. The Argo tilted crazily with the unbalanced weight, and Ushiwaka caught hold of a shattered post to hold herself in place. Just before the falling Pillar struck the ocean, its substance burst into foul smoke and cinders that began to rapidly dissipate. The ship swayed back, righting itself. As the fleshy stump of the pillar dissolved, it revealed a drained, dazed-looking Jason of Iolcus. He lay on the shatteeed deck, coughing fitfully on the fumes of his own undone transformation.

Ushiwaka smiled and nodded firmly to herself. A job well done -

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” said a calm, sweet voice overhead.

Reacting without conscious thought, Ushiwaka leapt to the side. Not a heartbeat later, a dozen beams of energy lanced through the place she’d been standing, scorching the planks behind. One clipped her leg, sending her tumbling, but she ignored the burning pain and righted herself in mid-air to land on the Argo ’s rail, and readied her sword again in time to deflect one last beam.

Dress billowing in the wind, young Princess Medea hovered above Jason, too far up to be in convenient reach - not that that would stop Ushiwaka for a second, once she found a way past those spells. “I’m not sure what your name is, Miss Servant, but I hope you had a plan to escape afterwards.”

“There’s no need to plan for a retreat if you aren’t going to lose,” Ushiwaka replied, unfazed.

Medea sighed. “I really envy your confidence.” A broad wave of her staff overhead called up a complicated, glowing circle in the air behind her, which unleashed another spray of beams at Ushiwaka.

The strangest part of the Princess’ behavior was how sincere she sounded. “…I cannot tell if this is banter or not,” Ushiwaka said, dancing between the beams.

“Not at all. I think it must be nice to have so few doubts.” Before Ushiwaka found an opportunity to close in, the Princess lowered her staff mid-cast and looked to the side. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness, that seems like overkill.”

Ushiwaka followed her gaze. The Golden Hind was sailing straight at them, a fleet of dozens of translucent ships-of-the-line assembled around her. Drake stood dramatically on the bowsprit of her ship, leveling her pistol at the Argo, a wild grin on her face. An ominous, rapidly-growing light shone from the muzzle of her pistol, as well as the mouths of every cannon in the ghostly fleet.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” the Princess said politely.

Without bothering to reply, Ushiwaka leapt over the opposite rail into the water. Behind her, the Wild Hunt swept the deck of the Argo clean with thunder and flame.

* * *

It seemed no one had informed Jason that there was such a thing as dying with dignity. He slumped on the deck of the Hind where Lord Fujimaru’s Servants had dumped him, moaning and cursing his friends and wife for failing him. Ushiwakamaru averted her eyes in disgust. This worthless infant was what was left of the mightiest foe she’d ever faced? She would almost have preferred the Demon God back. From the look on her lord’s face, he felt the same.

On the other hand, the scorched and bleeding Princess of Colchis next to him remained serene as she spoke to him. “Even now, the memories of Princess Medea are coming back to me,” she said, almost intimate, as if they were dying alone instead of surrounded by foes. “Even if she was betrayed, even if she was cursed at, even if she'd been deceived from the very start, she truly, truly adored her Lord Jason. You had been given divine power, yet… You were endlessly innocent, like a child excited over receiving a paltry treasure. Hopelessly cruel, and completely innocent. Despite your weakness, you attracted others and inspired loyalty. That's who you were, Jason. That was her first love. But you were so quick to betray everything. That's the only way you knew how to live.”

Ushiwaka shivered, unasked-for memories rising up in the back of her mind.

Princess Medea shook her head sadly as she went on. “If so, isn’t it easier to sink along with the world, so that you won't be betrayed?” Not the slightest hint of vindictiveness tainted her voice as she delivered a verdict that had been decided before Chaldea had ever arrived. “You were never supposed to return to your kingdom.”

“Damn… Witch! You treacherous damned witch!” Ushiwaka averted her eyes as Jason snarled his response, his hands curling into impotent claws. “Die! Die and be damned to hell!” Strength spent, he slumped, still muttering curses. His outraged eyes stayed fixed on the Princess until the last of his form had burned away in golden light.

Archaman began urging Lord Fujimaru to question Medea about the Singularities, but Ushi was already striding off as quickly as she could without making a scene, her throat tight. Her lord could pay attention to this dramatic maundering if he must; he seemed to have a high tolerance for idiocy of all sorts. Fortunately, she wasn’t in charge here and didn’t need to listen. It had nothing to do with her.

“Even if she was betrayed, even if she was cursed at, even if she'd been deceived from the very start…”

Be quiet, she thought, though she knew the words had only been repeated in her mind. Head down, she brushed past Servants and crew to take the steps up to the sterncastle, as far from the Princess as she could get without climbing the masts. At the top, she stopped short when she saw the elder Medea already there. Only her cloak and the fall of indigo hair were visible as she stood facing the sinking Argo , her back pointedly towards the rest of the ship. Ushi hesitated, then moved to lean against the rail away from her, taking care not to be so rude as to catch sight of the sorceress’ expression.

“She truly, truly adored her Lord…”

Far below the sterncastle, the same waves that were dragging down the fading Argo broke against the Hind’s hull. She hadn’t known until she’d arrived here how tall a deep-water ship would be. Up so high, the wind and the waves drowned out whatever the Princess of Colchis was saying now down on the deck, but it seemed like Ushiwaka could still hear snatches of her gentle condemnation in that innocent, forgiving voice.

“You were so quick to betray everything. That’s the only way you knew how to live…” 

Ushiwaka remembered her confusion and disbelief as she read her brother’s edict banning her from his new capital in Kamakura, and the increasingly anguished letters she wrote to him without response. She remembered the moment of cold acceptance when she realized what Yoritomo had decided to do with his dangerous liability of a sister. She remembered the knives in the night, and the years in exile, and -

“ ...Isn’t it easier to sink along with the world, so that you won't be betrayed?”

She glared down at the waves and wished there were someone left to fight. The battlefield was where she was most at home. Victory had always been a fickle friend to her.

A different voice spoke in her memories. “My sister is matchless, is she not? Born for the battlefield! She is more at home there than in our peaceful halls! Truly, I wonder what Yoshitsune will do with herself after this war is won.”

Ushiwaka grimaced, ignoring the pain that twisted in her gut like a knife. Hadn’t she made her peace with this long ago? Jason was a pathetic excuse for royalty and a treacherous user of people with nothing to offer himself, nothing like her brother. Yoritomo had only done what was necessary. When the time came for peace, a sword that could not be sheathed had to be discarded, and any questions about who was to lead the MInamoto had to be put to rest. The responsibility for her story's tragedy could be laid at her own feet. If she’d simply died instead of allowing her retainers to convince her to flee, it would have been a simple matter, over swiftly.

She’d accomplished so much in her brother’s name. The only thing she’d failed at was mastering her impudent heart.

A change in the sounds around her made her look up. The wind was dying, and the sails above the ship were going limp and empty. Out to the horizon, the endless waves subsided, each one shallower than the next until they were gone. In less than a minute, the ship was left rocking on a flat, mirror-perfect ocean. It was profoundly unnatural, and strangely familiar. In the sudden, eerie stillness, the only thing louder than the creaking of the ship was alarmed voices coming from the main deck.

“Hey Chaldea, gather up! We’ve got what we came for, and this place won’t last much longer!” Her lord’s voice rose over the others. “If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time to do it!”

When Ushiwaka looked back from the sea, Medea had half-turned to regard her. The sorceress’ lovely face was stony and unreadable. Ushiwaka held her gaze silently and wondered how much Medea knew about her life. The silence stretched out until she dropped her eyes and leapt down to the main deck, not bothering to take the stairs.

Some wounds were better left untouched.

Trying to focus on the present, she made her way past the celebrating (and rapidly-inebriating) crew of the Hind, fended off an overly-friendly David with a brief glare, and found her lord standing next to Kyrielight near where Jason and Princess Medea had lain. Lord Fujimaru turned to her as she drew near and smiled despite his obvious exhaustion. “Hey, Ushiwaka. Nice work out there.”

The compliment drove a crack into her melancholy, and she bobbed a quick bow. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down, my lord. Congratulations upon your third successful campaign.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Three down, four to go, or at least that’s what Roman tells me. Not counting whatever that nonsense was with Nobunaga last month, at least. God, I really hope that was a one-time thing.”

“I’m sure we ended that for good, Senpai,” Mash said confidently.

Fujimaru nodded hopefully. “This one went better than last time, that’s for sure. The Pillar in Rome was a catastrophe. The only reason we survived was because it summoned an even worse catastrophe and pissed it off. Fucking Flauros,” he ended with a mutter that couldn’t hide the sudden intensity of his curse. Ushiwaka didn’t miss Mash’s matching grimace at the name.

Ushiwaka tilted her head. “Whoever or whatever ‘Flauros’ was, relying on summoning a greater power that it couldn’t control doesn’t seem like a sound strategy.”

He stopped glaring into space and snorted a laugh. “Well, I’m doomed.”

“I’m sure you can control your Servants perfectly well, my lord.” Fujimaru raised his eyebrows at Ushiwaka, who cut her eyes to the side. “...when it matters, I mean.”

“If you say so.” He sounded dubious. “I guess it’s worked out so far. You all don’t need a lot of direction, anyway. Rule #3: Don’t get in your Servants’ way,” he said, almost as if he was quoting.

“Rule number three?”

“Ritsuka keeps talking about making a list of rules for Masters,” Kyrielight said, then gave him a perturbed look. “I’m not sure how serious he is, or what other Masters he intends to tell about them.”

“Totally serious,” Fujimaru said, in a not very serious-sounding way. “Still working on them, though. I’m trying to list them in order of importance. Not sure if that’s going to stay Rule Three.”

Ushiwaka tilted her head, curious. “If that was number three, what is the first one?”

He chuckled. “The first rule for Masters is to never go anywhere without a Servant.”

“Sensible. My lord should be attended at all times. Not to mention…” She stopped and grimaced, not sure how to politely phrase ‘you would be utterly helpless against any danger worthy of the name’.

Fujimaru smiled. “It’s okay, you can say it. Masters are easily breakable, or at least this one is.” Ushiwaka shrugged, privately glad that they were his words and not hers.

Before she could come up with a reply, a brassy voice shouted, “Ritsuka! Blast it, boy, if you take over my ship and lead me on an adventure, you’re not allowed to just disappear without a word when it’s all over! Come on, we’ve still got time to toast our victory!” Drake clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over, then dragged him off to say goodbye to the rest of her crew, some of whom were already fading to translucency.

Kyrielight turned to her. “So, what do you think of your first campaign with Senpai?”

Ushiwaka paused to consider. On the one hand, they'd been successful, and Fujimaru's ability to draw in allies was truly remarkable. On the other... She watched Drake laugh as Lord Fujimaru tried unsuccessfully to squirm out of her headlock, and wasn't sure whether it was acceptable to be amused at the indignity. “I think that being sworn to a lord like this one is going to take some getting used to.”

Chapter Text

December 11, 2017

Leonardo da Vinci was about to escape the common halls of Chaldea into her workshop - her home, her refuge, her fortress of solitude - when she heard her name called. She might have pretended not to notice, but the voice sounded both agitated and determined. If she blew them off, they might try to enter her workshop, which would fail, of course, but Chaldea already had enough explosion damage to clean up. More likely, they might accost Romani instead, denying the Acting Director an hour of sleep she knew he desperately needed. So she waited, one hand on the door handle, as two people hurried up. “Yes?” she asked brightly.

Ushiwakamaru stopped in front of her, sketching a bow. “Lady da Vinci, I would like your assistance resolving a disagreement I am having with Lord Fujimaru.” The Master of Chaldea she referred to followed close behind her. He waved a silent greeting at da Vinci over the samurai’s shoulder, wearing the look of someone who did not expect to regain control of the situation anytime soon.

Da Vinci didn’t so much smile at them as refrain from ceasing to smile. “Rider, Master Fujimaru. I am rather busy,” she fibbed, “but I can spare a few moments for you. Will this take long?”

“I do not believe so,” Ushiwakamaru said. “My lord’s command has prevented me from doing my clear duty as a Heroic Spirit. Despite my objections, he has refused to rescind his order, but he offered to reconsider if I gained your agreement.”

Da Vinci raised an eyebrow silently in Fujimaru’s direction.

“She’s mad that I told her she couldn’t chop Teach’s head off,” he said flatly. Ushiwakamaru nodded sharply in agreement.

“…I see,” said Da Vinci. “And what did the infamous Captain Blackbeard do to warrant a beheading?”

Ushiwakamaru looked at her as if the question made no sense. “Clearly you have not met the man.”

As it so happened, da Vinci had met the man, and for a moment she entertained the thought of simply agreeing. Truly, responsibility was a burden. “If he has threatened you, harassed you, made any untoward attempts upon your person or belongings, or…” Genius she might be, but even da Vinci found herself at a loss to categorize all the possible ways Blackbeard might antagonize a proud young samurai-ko. She settled for, “...Or otherwise attempted to disturb you or associate with you despite objections, then there may be grounds for, shall we say, punitive measures. Has he?”

“No,” the girl said, reluctance dripping from the word. “He ceased his drivel and fled when I took offense, and has been avoiding me ever since.”

Da Vinci clasped her hands in front of her. “Then, as sad as I am to say it, I must concur with Master Fujimaru. We can’t set a precedent that one Servant can kill another merely because they see the other as a worthless travesty whose existence is an insult to the very idea of Heroic Spirits.”

“Does no one here realize that man’s head belongs more than a neck’s length from his shoulders?” Ushiwakamaru sounded more incredulous than angry.

“Sorry, Ushiwaka, you can’t just behead people on general principles,” Fujimaru said. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

“The other Servants would understand,” muttered Ushiwakamaru, but da Vinci could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

“If it’s any consolation,” da Vinci offered sympathetically, “the thought of you parading his head around the halls will warm my heart for the rest of the week.”

“What, and give the impression that I thought I’d slain some kind of worthy foe? Never.” Pursing her lips, Ushiwakamaru bowed curtly to them. “Very well, then! By your leave, my lord, Lady da Vinci, I shall go and find something whose head I am allowed to cut off, and pretend it is him.” She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“I almost wish I’d agreed,” Fujimaru muttered, watching the girl stride away. “Blackbeard’s like the guy who got kicked out of the Media and Culture Club last year. If, y’know, he was also a murderous pirate. I bet the other Servants would be fine with him turning up with one fewer head.”

“I suspect they would,” da Vinci replied. “They’d also know it was open season on each other. Chaldea wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“Yeah. Thanks, da Vinci. I’d better go try to smooth things over.” Fujimaru gave her a brief smile and sketched a bow before hurrying after the samurai.

Da Vinci made sure she was safely in her workshop away from prying eyes before she let the laughter out.

* * *

“You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer I leave? If you just want to hit things without worrying about me, that’s fine.” Ritsuka brought up the simulator settings as he spoke, tapping at controls floating unsupported in the bare whiteness of the simulation room. He was reluctant to let Ushiwakamaru just stew in her own disappointment, but he wasn’t going to hang around if he wasn’t welcome.

“Not at all!” Ushiwakamaru said. To Ritsuka’s ear, she sounded sincere, although still a bit grumpy. “Your company is welcome, my lord, though I assure you it’s unnecessary. I’ve learned the basics of operating this... artifice since we returned from Okeanos.” She gave the white walls and console a look which was equal parts dubious and curious.

Ritsuka shrugged. “I’m the one who made the call. The least I can do is stick around while you blow off some steam.” The simulator was always kind of a crapshoot, but maybe it’d turn out better without Roman at the wheel. Ritsuka started adjusting settings. Party: Solo, Master: Present, Environment: Random, Difficulty: Moderate. “Thanks, by the way. I could tell it took a lot of restraint to let that go.”

“It’s no matter. I should not have complained about my lord’s orders.” Ushiwakamaru glanced at him, then pursed her lips at the empty room around them. “Sparing the lives of the unworthy is your prerogative, after all.”

Yikes. Ritsuka grimaced, looked at her expression out of the corner of his eye, and raised the Difficulty setting to Hard. “Well, I made the call and I’m the one who’s got to actually interact with him. That’s feels like karmic punishment to me.” The Custom Enemy Specifications section just had a series of text entry blanks with no hints or even an autocomplete, so he put Human Heads in one, Pirates in the next, and what the hell, Satisfying To Kill in a third. They’d just have to see how the simulator would interpret that. “If Teach does bother you again, you can go ahead and kick him in the teeth or something. Just try not to kill him.”

Ushiwakamaru gave him a long look, then nodded once, her expression becoming more cheerful. “An acceptable solution, my lord.”

With that at least temporarily settled, Ritsuka considered the other simulator settings - so many settings, so few explanations - and dialed the Realism setting down to Moderate. He was pretty sure this was going to involve decapitation, and he didn’t need to see any more realistic arterial sprays this month, thank you very much. “Okay, I don’t know what this thing is going to throw at us, but however you want to deal with them is fine. Beheading is on the table, or whatever works for you,” he said cheerfully. “Just keep them off me if you can. I’m not going to waste more time looking for a way to change the aggro settings.”

“Of course! It will be better training for both of us.”

Ritsuka rolled his neck to stretch it, sighing. “Yeah, I can always use more practice running for cover. Ready? Here we go,” he said, and hit the Start button. 

The console faded, and the whole world seemed to turn to static for a moment, before it resolved into a dense, green tropical jungle, complete with distant bird calls and air thick with humidity. There was a sizable clearing around them with waving, waist-high grasses, though the treeline was only a dozen meters away. A few jungle creatures lurked in the shade; when he focused on one, the simulator politely placed a label over its head indicating it was an [Adorable Tree Sloth].

Ushiwakamaru took in her surroundings intently, hand on her sword. She usually seemed on the verge of bursting into motion, but never more so than when she thought there might be a fight. With a tight smile, she said, “Shall we go look for trouble, my lord?”

“If you want, but I think it’ll come looking for… Wait, do you hear that?”

“Kekekekeke!”

Both of them swung their heads toward the sound. It wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was definitely aggressive, and somehow strangely familiar. Without moving at all, Ushiwakamaru’s stance somehow became even more ready than before. “It seems that no looking will be necessary.”

“Yeah. What is that sound, though?”

“Kekekeke!”

His question was answered as their virtual foes appeared, swinging through the trees as fast as Ritsuka could run. He squinted at them, then squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh my God why is the simulator like this,” he muttered.

“What do you mean? They’re perfect,” Ushiwakamaru said, grinning with vicious enthusiasm. Eyes alight, she drew her sword.

Descending from the trees, the troupe of [Teach-Headed Devil Monkeys] spread out to surround them, chattering all the while. “Kekekekekeke!”

* * *

Ritsuka leaned against a virtual jungle tree to prop himself up, trying to catch his breath. “That… That was the last of them, right?”

“Yes, my lord.” It was unfair that Ushiwakamaru was barely breathing hard. Hanging around with Servants was enough to give someone a complex. He was never, ever going to stop feeling like he needed more cardio.

The jungle blurred and faded, revealing the blank white simulator walls again, with a display showing ‘Simulation End - Time Elapsed: 00:18:36:192’. “I apologize if that was bothersome, my lord, but I found it quite… cathartic.” Smiling with satisfaction, she inspected her sword for blood, found none, and sheathed it.

Ritsuka let out a chuckle. “It was actually pretty funny once I got used to it.” He was glad he’d dialed down the realism, though. There had been a lot of heads by the time she was done; he’d almost sprained an ankle tripping on one. “Oh, I saved the settings under your name in case you want to do that again.”

Ushi went from satisfied to beaming in a flash. “Ah! Thank you, my lord. Returning to that jungle occasionally will make seeing his loathsome face in the corridors more bearable.” She huffed, expression clouding over again. “A man as openly vile as that would never have been tolerated in the circles I used to move in.”

“Me neither.” He stopped, and considered his schoolmates. “Actually, I guess that’s not true. I knew of a couple of people almost that bad. I mean, not actual pirates, just generally disgusting…”

“Why do you continue to put up with him, my lord?”

Ritsuka shrugged. “For one thing, he’s the only naval captain we’ve got - I assume you don’t count yourself as one.”

She shook her head reluctantly. “With the skills I was summoned with, I’m sure I could steer a ship in a pinch, but I can’t provide one. As far as I’m concerned, boats are just places to stand.”

“Well, there you go.”

Ushiwakamaru tilted her head, clearly disagreeing but reluctant to directly contradict him. “Keeping untrustworthy allies out of necessity is a sign of weakness.”

He felt his lips press into a line as his mood sank a bit, and a little bleakness leaked into his voice. “We are weak. We’re playing catch-up with the end of the world.”

“What you say is true, yet…” She shifted with discomfort. “I’m sorry, it's not my place to disagree.”

“Go ahead.” With an effort, he smiled. “I know I’ve got a lot to learn. Just… can we not get da Vinci involved this time?”

She looked amused and a bit ashamed at the same time. “As you say, my lord. I would say that a lord is judged by their alliances as well as their deeds. Some heroes on the Throne will be reluctant to answer Chaldea’s call if we accept too many unsavory allies.”

“That’s a good point.” He frowned, thinking. ”I think the heroes on the Throne are going to have to take circumstances into account just like we are. Don’t get me wrong, there’s allies I draw the line at.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, disbelieving. “A line Blackbeard isn’t across?”

“Believe it or not, yeah.” Ritsuka liked to think of himself as an understanding person, but he’d toss Gilles de Rais back every time any version of him raised his gaunt, ugly head. If saving the world required him to cut a deal with Bluebeard: The Early Years , then the world had it coming. “But we’ve got to accept as much help as we can stand. Teach is bad news and trouble, but he’s got a twisted sort of honor. He might stab us in the back and take our stuff, but I don’t think he’d sell us out to our enemies. And you have to admit, he knew what he was doing when he fought us.”

Ushiwakamaru thought for a while, looking disappointed, then nodded with obvious reluctance. “I suppose so, my lord. To stand against the Taira, my brother had to make common cause with lords he knew would turn upon him if given the chance.” She perked up. “At least we can hope that Drake answers the next time you attempt a summoning. She was a rough sort, but glorious nonetheless. Regardless, I’ll bear the scoundrel’s presence somehow.”

“Well, you absolutely don’t have to like him or get along with him. I don’t intend to bring him on a mission unless I have to, but if I do, I won’t drag you along with us.”

Looking suddenly alarmed, Ushiwakamaru shook her head. “My lord, there’s no need to worry about my discomfort. Please do not bother.”

Ritsuka shook his head, trying to emphasize how okay with it he was. He’d made himself look for the best in Blackbeard, but it took a lot of effort. “It’s not a bother! I wouldn’t inflict him on myself if I could avoid it, but the least I can do is keep the casualties to a minimum.” His explanation seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect; she slumped a little, head dropping. Well, damn, what now? Today was turning out to be very ‘one step forward, two steps back’ on the Servant-handling front. “Uh… Ushiwakamaru? Is everything okay?”

Her eyes flicked up to him, then back down. Sounding subdued, she said, “My lord, I understand if you cannot take my word for it after my behavior today, but I swear I am not so faithless as to allow my distaste for him to make me a liability in the field.”

“Whoa, whoa, I absolutely will take your word for it,” he said, eyes wide. “I was just… I don’t like deciding something for someone over their objections, especially when there’s an alternative.”

She didn’t raise her head, but her eyes lifted to search his face. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Ushi’s back straightened, and her head came up, catching Ritsuka off-guard. “My lord,” she said, with quiet fervor, “I returned from death to answer your call. I am sworn to fight on your behalf, for whatever reasons you choose, against whatever foes you have. That is the decision I made, and I will not allow a worm like Edward Teach, or anything else, to get in the way!” She gave a shallow bow, frowning ferociously. “So please do not attempt to do me a favor by keeping me from your battles.”

Ritsuka swallowed. He stifled his first, shameful impulse to make excuses and bowed his head in acknowledgement. “...Okay. I won’t.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She looked away, still sounding… He wasn’t quite sure. Hurt? Forlorn? As short a time as he’d known her, those weren’t emotions he associated with her. After a longer silence than was comfortable, she turned to the simulator console without looking at him and started fiddling with it.

Ritsuka leaned awkwardly against the wall and stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring at the floor and feeling inadequate and unsettled. So much for me being good at this sort of thing. If he slipped up like that with another Servant, like Lu Bu or someone, what would happen? Would he end up a stain on a wall instead of just feeling like an ass? Understanding people and being personable were survival skills these days.

He suppressed a sigh. The whole idea rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t want to be decent to people because he was afraid of the consequences, he wanted to be decent to people because people deserved to be treated with decency.

Didn’t stop him from being afraid of those consequences, though.

At least he wasn’t afraid of Ushiwakamaru, even after this, or maybe especially after this. Her hair trigger and her utter lack of qualms about violence might have worried him a bit, but as far as he could tell, they were aimed very squarely away from him. If her history with her brother was anything to go by, she’d stay loyal no matter what sort of an ass he made of himself.

His shoulders hunched further. He’d only been trying to make things comfortable for her. Had he been trying too hard? Maybe he just needed to listen instead. Dad had always said that you wouldn’t get anywhere putting yourself in someone else’s shoes if you didn’t try to walk like them, too…

For a second, homesickness nearly choked him up, before he pushed it away. He had an apology to make; just because she wouldn’t abandon him for being an ass didn’t mean he had an excuse to keep being one. He straightened up. “Hey, uh. Ushiwakamaru?” She looked over her shoulder, warily expressionless. “You were totally clear about your priorities. I just.. Well, I wasn’t listening. I really am sorry,” he said, bowing. “I won’t make that mistake again, and you have my word I won’t change any rosters to spare you trouble.”

Her eyes widening, Ushiwakamaru studied him as if she hadn’t expected that, then returned the bow and made an effort to smile. “You have nothing to apologize for, my lord. I am afraid my brother found me a difficult vassal as well.”

Ritsuka tried to keep his discomfort off of his face. Yoritomo had dealt with ‘difficult’ vassals like her by having them ruined  and killed. “Uh, I really wouldn’t say that about you at all. I think I’m probably a difficult lord, you know? So, tell me when I do something stupid. I meant it when I said I have a lot to learn.”

She eyed him again. “You wouldn’t be offended?”

“Nope!” He gave an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, that said, I’m not very good at doing what people tell me instead of what I think I should do, so I apologize in advance.”

He was relieved when she actually laughed, a quick bark of good humor that left her seeming more relaxed. “Perhaps it is natural talent. In my experience, doing as one sees fit instead of what others believe they should do is exactly what a lord does.” She turned back to the console, leaving Ritsuka uncertain whether that had been a joke, a subtle dig, or something else. Still, the tension was broken, and this time the quiet was more companionable while he mulled things over.

After a few minutes, Ushiwakamaru broke the silence and his self-reflection. “My lord, is there some way to create a competition in the simulator? I thought I overheard Cu Chulainn talking about it.” She was obviously unused to keyboard interfaces, but she kept at it doggedly, searching for each key before she prodded it with a finger, occasionally trying to poke at the screen itself.

“Yeah, I think it’s under the ‘Organize’ menu? I don’t know who made this, but it’s not very user-friendly, and the Help option is worthless.” Maybe Roman had the manual, but If he did, then the simulation sessions he’d run for Ritsuka were good evidence that he was the kind of guy who never read the manual.

Ushiwakamaru poked at the console a bit more. “Organize... menu? Ah! There it is.” She made a satisfied sound.

Ritsuka walked over to her and found that he couldn’t see the console screen over her shoulder. Leaning around, he squinted at the screen. “Wait. Are you making a competition to kill the most Blackbeard Monkeys?”

“Quality is not quantity, my lord. If I had enough free time, I’d be sure to win.” With undimmed intensity, she kept slowly tapping keys, looking at the screen and then the keyboard between each one. “It will be a competition for the fastest complete eradication of a single Devil Monkey troupe.”

“Uh,” he said, unsure whether any input from him would be welcome, “you know Teach’ll probably compete too, right?”

She paused to consider that, then gave him a sharp little grin. “If that is the case, he might regain a little of my respect.”

* * *

Simulator Challenge Scores

All-Chaldea Pirate Monkey Extermination (Speedrun)
Challenge Duration: Jan 25-27, 2018

Total Challengers: 36
Total Challenge Attempts: 314
Total Challenge Completions: 312

“God dammit, Blackbeard,” Ritsuka muttered, looking at the display on the big screen in the cafeteria. A dozen or so Servants had also gathered there to see the results. The pirate was not among them, but his presence was felt.

“Hmph! It should not surprise me,” Ushiwakamaru said, eyes narrowed, “that the wretch found a way to succeed and still leave me with no respect for him.”

Standing next to her, Mash nodded as she glared at it from behind her bangs. “I am not happy about this at all, Senp… um, Master.”

“I just want to know how a perverted idiot like that beat me,” Nobunaga said, her eye twitching. “That’s all. I’m not mad about it! I’m not saying he cheated! I just want to know how!”

“Da Vinci, how did he do that?” Mash said, gesturing at the screen. “Aren’t usernames set automatically by Saint Graph?”

“They are, and I don’t know how he did it, yet.” Da Vinci shook her head. “I very much doubt he altered his own Saint Graph. That’s all but impossible without… well, without a great deal of mystical knowledge, or the equivalent of a life-changing experience for a mortal.”

Ritsuka shrugged. “If there was anyone who’d put himself through a life-changing experience for a meme...”

“An excellent point.” Da Vinci scrolled her tablet through what looked like impossibly complicated diagrams of interlocking sigils and lines - some kind of graphical interpretation of a Saint Graph, Ritsuka guessed. “Perhaps it’s possible to change the expression of a Saint Graph temporarily? It’s much more likely that he figured out how to fool the simulator, or simply got one of the staff to fiddle with the display. I shall have to inquire with him.”

“He’s going to keep that one close to his chest, I think.”

“I’m sure he would prefer to, yes! Nevertheless, I am also sure I shall find a way to convince him,” da Vinci said. Her voice was all flowers and sweetness, with just a hint of steel.

Ritsuka considered warning Blackbeard, but decided against it. He’d earned whatever he got.

Chapter Text

~ Singularity F, July 25, 2017 ~

Ritsuka sits against a sooty wall looking out into the red-lit night at the silhouette of the temple mountain, the apparent source of whatever disaster has ruined this city. It’s easy to pick out, because the mountain is dark, and everything else is on fire.

Director Animusphere and Dr. Roman keep throwing around terms like ‘Spiritron’ and ‘Human Order Foundation’. Ritsuka presumes they know what they’re talking about. Right now he feels like a grade schooler working with nuclear physicists to stop a meltdown: he knows what the words ‘melt’ and ‘down’ mean, but he’s pretty sure that’s going to hurt more than help. On the other hand, he’s also pretty sure he knows the word for a dimension where everything is burning populated only by legendary villains and the wrathful dead, and it's not ‘Singularity’.

He’s gotten through today running on a mix of adrenaline, dogged determination, and complete ignorance of how terrible things actually are, and all three are just about used up. The wound on his arm from some skeleton’s knife is trickling blood again under its grimy bandage. He’s filthy with ash and soot, and his throat is raw from coughing on the ever-present smoke. He’s too weary to run, almost too weary to stand. Most uncomfortable of all is the grinding ache inside him, like a bone bruise on his soul, which Doctor Roman said is his untrained Magic Circuits running at full blast non-stop.

Beneath all of that, he is more frightened than he’s ever thought possible. Today has been awful, and tomorrow will be worse. Even a talentless amateur like Ritsuka can feel the oppressive power coiling inside the temple mountain, like a volcano ready to erupt. So of course, that’s where they’re headed once they rest up.

Right now, rest sounds like a bad joke. He can barely stay upright, but sleep feels impossible. How did this all end up on his shoulders, anyway? Wasn’t there anyone else, anyone more fit for the role?

He hates himself a little for wanting it to just be someone else’s problem, but he still does.

He glances back at the people who are, for lack of an alternative, relying on him. ‘Caster’, who’d said his True Name was Cu Chulainn, vanished almost as soon as neither of the ladies were awake to flirt at, which meant almost as soon as they’d stopped walking. Director Animusphere sleeps fitfully in one of Mash’s emergency blankets; she seems much younger now that she’s not verbally tearing strips off of him every five minutes. Next to the Director, Mash has practically passed out in another blanket. He’s glad she’s resting at least; if today’s been awful for him, how much worse has it been for her? Her fluffy white companion’s settled atop her where it can keep her warm. Whenever Ritsuka looks, it’s awake and watching either him or the mountain with its little purple-grey eyes. This time, it’s watching him.

“Guess you can feel it too, huh?” he asks softly.

“Fou,” the beast says, quiet as a whisper. It licks Mash’s face once, then settles down and closes its eyes to dark slivers.

There’s a rustle of fabric, and the red-coated Archer he’d summoned earlier sits down beside him, casual as anything. That summoning was his first act of real magic, which in any other time and place would make this the best day of his life. Now that he’s thinking about it, he can feel a subtle tug inside him toward the Servant, the draw of energy from his overtaxed Magic Circuits, pulsing in an aching rhythm.

The Archer had said to call him ‘Emiya’. Theoretically, he’s a legendary hero, though none of them have ever heard of him. It gives Ritsuka’s companions fits, but he can’t bring himself to care about the contradiction. Maybe if there’s a later.

Emiya folds his arms. “Hanging in there, Master?”

“Yeah,” Ritsuka replies, dropping his eyes.

The Servant doesn’t move. “No, you’re not.”

“Not even a little bit,” Ritsuka says, without looking up.

Emiya nods. Ritsuka waits for him to say something heartening, but he doesn’t. When he glances up, the Archer’s watching the distant mountain like it’s an old and bitter foe. Ritsuka follows his gaze. As ominous as the ever-present flames are, there’s something even more ominous about the complete lack of them there.

“Are we dead?” Ritsuka finds himself asking.

“Depends on who you’re talking about. Caster and I are dead, though there’s... technicalities involved, I guess. Being killed never stopped either of us for long anyway. I’m pretty sure you and the Animusphere girl and Shielder are alive.” Emiya turns to look at him. “What brought that on?”

“Well,” Ritsuka says in a quiet voice, “this is hell, isn’t it?”

“...Huh.” Emiya looks at him with a peculiar expression for a few seconds, then nods. “Yeah, kid. It’s hell. Or close enough as makes no difference. Living people end up in hell more often than you’d think.”

Arms propped up on his knees, Ritsuka slowly lowers his head into them. Not looking at hell doesn’t make being there any better, but he’s so damn tired, and the effort it takes to keep his head up doesn’t seem worth it right now. He wants it all to be over with. He wants some semblance of safety and sanity back. He wants it all to have been a bad dream, or a really sadistic and thorough practical joke, or anything other than exactly what it is.

“I don’t understand,” he says, into the space between his arms and chest. His voice comes out muffled, and he hopes he sounds like he’s just whining, instead of giving voice to his panic and despair. “This was supposed to be a summer job! I’m due back at school in a month! This morning was fine, but then there were explosions, and everyone died, and I had to sit with a girl while she bled out under ten tons of concrete, and then a computer voice sent us to hell to get attacked by skeletons, and those shadow-people came, and… I’ve been dealing with it, just minute to minute, you know, but it’s… too much.” He clenches his right fist, where he knows that red crest is showing, the brand of his responsibility. “Why is this on me? Why am I this ‘Master’? I don’t know anything about hero ghosts or alternate histories. I barely know what magic is! Why am I the one who’s supposed to get everyone out of this? Why is this fucking happening?”

Before he can stop himself, he’s sobbing into his arms, shaking with each one and trying to keep as quiet as he can while he’s losing it. It’s bad enough he’s breaking down in front of a mysterious, legendary stranger and a weirdly knowing cat-bunny-squirrel thing, but he doesn’t want to bother Mash, and God forbid his crying wakes Animusphere.

It takes a while for Ritsuka to cry himself out. Emiya doesn’t move or say anything until he’s done. He takes a few deep breaths and tries to relax, wiping his face with a grimy sleeve, which probably just smudges the dirt and ashes around, but who cares at this point? “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed by how raspy his voice is.

“Nothing to apologize about, Master. It’s a shitty position to be in.” Somehow, the dry matter-of-factness in Emiya’s voice is more calming than sympathy or tenderness. The Archer gives the impression of someone who’s been through more awful situations than Ritsuka’s heard stories about. If he says so, it’s probably reasonable to be scared and confused.

“I never wanted to be…” Ritsuka swallows. Emiya raises his eyebrows inquisitively. “I never wanted to be some kind of… hero. I mean, sure, I used to pretend I was a samurai or a mecha pilot or whatever, but that was just for fun. I didn’t really want to be a superhero, or whatever. I just wanted to live my life.”

“That just means you’re sane, kid.” Emiya tilts his head. “From what Shielder said, though, when everything went to hell, you ran towards the danger instead of away, and stuck with her instead of trying to save yourself.”

“I mean… I couldn’t just run away.” Ritsuka shrugs. The difference feels obvious to him, but it’s hard to put exactly why to words. “If someone’s house was on fire and they needed help, I’d try to put it out. That doesn’t make me a firefighter. I couldn’t just give up on her.”

“There’s lots of ways to become a hero,” Emiya says.

“Well, I don’t want any of them.” Ritsuka looks up at the taller man.”I don’t know your story, but you must’ve been in situations like this. What did you do?”

Emiya makes a sour face. “I’m a lot of things, but one thing I’m definitely not is a role model.”

From somewhere, Ritsuka drags out a weary smile. “So, tell me so I can do the opposite.”

“Nice try.” Emiya matches Ritsuka with a wry one of his own. “I’ll say this, though, you’re right that I’ve been where you are.”

“In hell.”

Emiya gives him a flat look. “Actually, smartass, yeah, that too, but I mean tossed into a fight to the death with no warning, knowing you’re in way over your head but not how far down it goes, stuck relying on magic you barely know and allies who know more than you, and still feeling responsible for everyone anyway and scared you’re going to let them down.”

That’s accurate enough that Ritsuka chuckles, though there’s no humor in it. “Go on, give me the bad news.”

“Sure,” Emiya says, without missing a beat. “The bad news is, just like when it happened to me, whatever we find under that mountain is going to be worse than you expect, and after we deal with it this whole shitshow will probably be just the beginning.”

Ritsuka closes his eyes for a second. “...God damn it, Emiya.”

“Don’t ever dare a Counter Guardian to give you the bad news.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. When you’re safe, and I’m not in the room, ask Animusphere. It’ll be funny.”

“If you’re right,” Ritsuka says, “it’s going to be a long time before any of us are safe.” Saying it out loud makes him realize he already knew that; whatever had gone wrong back in Chaldea wasn’t something that was going to go back to normal anytime soon.

Emiya shrugs. “Probably. That doesn’t mean you can’t get there. You held it together all day without knowing a damn thing about what was going on, you kept your head and made the calls when you had to. And you survived, which means they were the right calls. This isn’t beyond you, kid. It’s just rough going. So, speaking as someone who’s been there, do you want some advice?”

“Yeah. Anything’s better than nothing.”

The Archer starts holding up fingers. “One, trust your Servants. Especially that Shielder. She’s inexperienced, but she’s got guts and good instincts. Two, trust yourself. If you were incompetent we wouldn’t have made it through today. Use your strengths, and whatever keeps you going, hang on to it. Three, and this is the big one, keep your eyes open and your mind working. A Master’s job is to stay focused on the goal and look for ways to get there. Your Servants can do the heavy lifting, but they’ll be busy keeping you alive.” He smirks. “And heroes are prone to tunnel vision anyway. ”

Ritsuka supposes people who overthink things and second-guess themselves don’t become legends too often. Well, that puts him out of the running, which is comforting in a backwards way. “Okay. Thanks.” It doesn’t come out very strong, but he means it.

The Archer’s grey eyes give him an assessing look. “So. What’re you going to do, Master?”

That’s the question, isn’t it? “I don’t know. My best, I guess. Even if I don’t know what that is.”

Emiya nods slowly. “Keep your chin up. You haven’t seen what we Servants can really do. I don’t think you’ve seen what you can really do, either. So trust that what you can do will be enough, and then do it.” Emiya rises smoothly to his feet. “I’ll be around keeping an eye on things. Let yourself sleep when you can. Between Caster and me, nothing’s getting near you tonight.” With that, Emiya bends his knees, leaps, and vanishes into the night with a sound like a breath of wind.

Ritsuka looks upward after him, then back to his sleeping companions. If this is hell, he’s in strangely good company for it.

“Trust that what you can do will be enough, and do it,” he whispers. He clambers to his feet, shuffles over, and tucks Mash’s feet back into her thin blanket, giving a wan smile to Fou when the little critter cracks an eye open at him. He pulls Animusphere’s covers back over her as well, too wrung out to worry about what happens if she wakes up to find him messing with her bedding.

Straightening up, he finds the dark mountain drawing his gaze again, feeling the dim pulse of its power from all this distance. It makes him wonder how his best could possibly be good enough. He’s no hero, no magician, no warrior. It would take a miracle for him to make a difference here.

But after what he’s seen today, can he really say miracles are out of the question?

Ritsuka learned about heroism from hot-blooded mecha pilots and defying odds from light novels. He knows how this sort of thing is supposed to go. Digging deep, he closes his eyes and gathers up every bit of righteousness and resolve he can muster, fills his heart with the fire he’s inherited from the stories he’s steeped himself in. He drags his unwilling face into an approximation of a fierce smile and opens his mouth to swear he’ll set the fire in his heart against the fires out there, that he’ll fight the good fight, that he’ll believe, that he’ll win.

His eyes open onto the burning city, and in the face of that hell, the words won’t come.

A hot, ashy wind gusts around him like a draft from a crematorium and shoves the trite posturing back down his throat where it belongs. He stands there with his mouth half open until he has to cough, bitter grit scraping his tongue. Wiping his mouth leaves a black streak on the back of his hand that makes him grimace.

A place this awful shouldn’t exist.

He hates this place, hates its desolation and its pointless torment. Most of all he hates that anyone’s stuck in it. No one deserves this hell, not even the fucked-up, blackened legends they’ve battled here. Today’s taken a sledgehammer to everything he understood about the world and his place in it, and the pieces are still falling, but as he stares at the smear of ash on his hand and wonders if it used to be a person, he knows one thing about himself with perfect clarity: if he could, he’d drag them all out of here with his bare hands, one by one if he had to, Mash and Animusphere and the Servants and the godforsaken skeletons too.

Ritsuka looks up again. Watching the ripples of heat rise off of the ruins, he shakily whispers, “Okay, then. I won’t turn away. I’ll help everyone I can, until I can’t.” No one else will ever know about this promise, and on some level he’s glad of that, that the only one who can hold him to it is himself - but he’s not talking to himself, not really. No matter who they are, anyone and everyone caught up in this horror deserves a miracle, if by some chance he’s got one in him. “I won’t give up on you,” he finishes.

As if those were the words he was waiting for, all the tension that’s held him upright slips away, and he barely manages to make it back to his blanket before he slides to the ground and curls up. He lets out a sigh that wants to be a laugh. The resolve he’d gathered is crumbling already. Compared to whatever set this world aflame, he’s laughably small and ignorant. He doesn’t even know how he’s going to survive tomorrow. It’s utter hubris to think he could save anyone else.

But wouldn’t it be nice if he could?

This time, when Ritsuka closes his eyes, he’s asleep in moments.

* * *

March 12, 2018

It had been a long time since Ushiwakamaru dreamt at all. Servants, she knew, in that strange knowing-without-having-learned way that came with summoning-granted information, didn’t dream. Couldn’t dream, in fact. Dreams were a thing of the living, and she was perfectly aware that she had died. Given her circumstances, it would have been hard to miss.

As with every rule, though, there were exceptions.

When she opened her eyes in the darkness of her room, she wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown. She was certain, somehow, that what she’d seen was a true vision of her lord’s past - the so-called ‘Singularity F’ which neither he nor Kyrielight would speak much of.

Bitter lessons had taught her that reading people, understanding them, was not her strong suit. She’d thought that the blithe confidence and affability Fujimaru demonstrated was simply who he was. And maybe that was the case, but now that she knew it was there, she could think back and spot the cracks in the facade - a flinch here, a weary look there, always smoothed over before she considered whether they meant more.

It was one thing to challenge hell with the confidence and prowess of a hero. It was another thing entirely to lack it and challenge hell anyway.

It reminded her of her brother, in a way. Yoritomo’s skill at arms was mediocre, and he’d utterly lost the only battle he’d led, but he’d pit himself against the Taira all the same, knowing the only thing he had going for him was his refusal to submit. He’d hidden his fears and anxiety behind his lordly facade, and somehow he’d done it well enough to weld together the squabbling Minamoto and their fractious allies into the tools she’d needed to win their family vengeance.

She missed him. Yoritomo had made her feel that there was a place to belong for someone like her, someone who looked at the world the way a bared blade would look at a straw dummy. She truly believed he’d meant it, too. Just because it had all gone wrong in the end didn’t mean it had been wrong from the start.

"Okay, then. I won’t turn away. I won’t give up on you.”

Maybe this place, too, was somewhere she could belong, at least for now. It would all go wrong again eventually, she knew. She couldn't change that.

But wouldn't it be nice if she could?

She closed her eyes to sleep again, still uncertain, but willing to hope anyway.

Chapter Text

March 14, 2018

Acting Director Romani Archaman was attempting to write a report, eat his lunch, read Magi♥Mari’s Magical Mystery Blog, and listen to SHEBA’s latest survey of the Fifth Singularity at the same time. He wasn’t doing any of them well, not even eating, but there wasn’t enough time in the day to accomplish everything he needed to do even if he did everything four at a time, let alone one by one. It didn’t help that all the Servants knew where his office was, and anything they couldn’t, wouldn’t, or shouldn’t bring to Ritsuka they brought to -

The door opened behind him. “Lord Romani.”

Crap. Swallowing a bite of his salad, he turned to face his visitor, drawing himself up in his best approximation of the dignity of an Acting Director. It wasn’t much. “I know I’ve told you not to call me… Never mind. What can I do for you, Ushiwaka?”

The young samurai in the doorway fixed him with a stern look. “Can you explain to me why Euryale is allowed to walk the halls instead of being put in some kind of box until we need her, or better yet, rendered down for resources?”

“...You’re talking about what she did last week,” Roman guessed.

“Yes, Lord Romani. I am talking about last week, when she bewitched Lord Fujimaru to do her bidding and Rayshifted the two of them into a collapsing Singularity without backup or oversight. For a nostalgic personal outing.”

He laughed uncertainly and scratched the back of his head. “Please, at least call me Doctor. It really makes me anxious when you call me a ‘lord’.” At least it wasn’t ‘King’, thank G-d.

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Dr. Romani, then.”

Romani sighed. It was easy to see where she was coming from, unfortunately. “We considered it, but our options are limited. We don’t have a good way to contain a Servant, so our options were to unsummon her or… let it slide. And she’s gotten it out of her system; if we ended up re-summoning her with a new Spirit Origin, she’d probably try it again! So we decided not to take drastic action yet.” Ushiwakamaru’s expression was turning more and more sour. He followed up quickly with, “Ritsuka agreed! He said should let her off with a warning.”

Ushiwakamaru frowned and muttered something Romani didn’t completely catch about how maybe Fujimaru needed to learn to give up on a few people at least. “Disappointing,” she said more loudly.

“I think he’s trying to do what’s best for Chaldea. You can ask him about it, though,” he said, hoping to deflect.

“I’m not talking about him. What’s disappointing is that you have priorities higher than my lord’s best interests while he leads your battles for you!”

That was too much. Roman knew he shouldn’t let a Servant get to him like this, but the accusation honestly hurt. He pushed himself out of his chair, matching her look. “If I could do what he can, I wouldn’t let him out of the complex! Do you think I like commanding child soldiers?”

Ushiwaka shook her head dismissively. “What does his age have to do with it? He’s old enough to choose to fight. But I know what happens when someone is both necessary and expendable. Not being able to use anyone else isn’t an excuse for using him up.”

“I’m doing everything I can not to.”

“Except protecting him from people taking advantage of him.”

“Everything I can, Ushiwaka. Being in charge doesn’t mean I can change how things are.”

“It means you’re responsible for it, though.”

He winced. “I don’t think… I mean… Ugh.” Talk about hitting him where it hurts by accident. If he hadn’t been listening in during the London Singularity, maybe he wouldn’t have to take the idea of being responsible for all this so hard.  “If I’ve got a responsibility, then I’ve got a duty to deal with it in equal measure. We have a duty to humanity, and we can’t just default on it because some of the people we have to work with are difficult!” Case in point, he thought, but was wise enough not to say aloud.

“My duty is to my lord, not ‘humanity’, whatever that might be. I won’t allow his so-called allies to take advantage of his good nature.” She fixed him with a brief but forceful glare. “If Euryale tries something like that again, the consequences will be out of your hands.” Before he could form a response, she turned and stalked away.

Roman sighed and dropped back into his seat, his lunch forgotten. Maybe Magi♥Mari would have some advice that would make him feel better. He tapped a command and opened what was, somehow, the world’s only surviving website.

“‘Today’s Tantalizing Tip: Welcome advice will come from an unexpected source!’... Are you kidding me?!”

* * *

March 15, 2018

“… so I told him I’d take matters into my own hands if it happened again.”

Jing Ke nodded, reclining in her seat. “Makes sense to me. I guess if Master said so, you should let it slide for now, but you know how I feel. Divine Spirit or not, some people just need their throats cut.” In the middle of the afternoon, the cafeteria was mostly empty around them, and Jing Ke clearly didn’t feel any need to mince words with no one to overhear.

Ushiwaka smiled in satisfied camaraderie. Finally, someone who got it! Jing Ke was that most novel of people - someone easy to talk to. So many people balked when presented with completely reasonable suggestions.

The cafeteria doors opened for Lord Fujimaru, who waved in passing as he navigated between the tables toward the kitchen.

Ushiwaka straightened up, letting go of her irritation for the time being. “Good afternoon, my lord!”

Jing Ke chimed in with, “Hey there, Master! Late lunch or early dinner?”

Fujimaru slowed down. “Neither right now. I’m going to help Emiya prep the curry for dinner.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “It’s just a lot of vegetable chopping, but, look, something I’m actually qualified to do!”

“I think you’ve got more useful skills than just food prep. But be sure he makes enough this time,” said Jing Ke with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s a mistake nobody wants to repeat,” he said. Ushiwaka gave him a quizzical look, and he answered her unspoken question. “The last time Emiya made curry, Lily got in a fistfight with Spartacus about not leaving enough.”

“He’s that big an eater?” Ushiwaka asked.

Fujimaru shook his head. “No, she is. I have no idea where she puts it all, but apparently when a King takes the last serving of a dish, it’s oppression? Anyway, I’ll catch you two later.” He waved, continuing on down the hall. “Don’t dethrone any Emperors without me!”

Ushiwaka considered for a moment. She had a matter to bring up with him, if she could bring herself to do it.. “My lord!” she called after him. Fujimaru turned around, walking backwards with eyebrows raised. “May I assist you?”

He stopped, smiling as if at an unexpected pleasure. “I’d like that, yeah.”

“I’ll pass, if that’s all right with you,” Jing Ke said. “Emiya gets touchy when he sees me in the kitchen.”

“You know, if you showed up there doing something other than trying to sneak into the liquor stores, he’d probably relax,” Fujimaru pointed out.

“Psh. Someone catches you Presence Concealing near the saké just one time…” Jing Ke shook her head.

“Ha! How many times did they not catch you?” Ushiwaka asked knowingly.

Jing Ke just laughed. “Who could say? I’ll see you two at dinner. Have fun with the menial labor!” She gave a shallow bow and sauntered off.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Lord Fujimaru said cheerfully, turning to Ushiwaka.

“Very well, my lord!” She held up a hand and clenched it, grinning. “Together, we shall make short work of those vegetables!”

* * *

That turned out to be an optimistic proclamation.

Emiya and Boudica shared responsibility for the kitchen, and neither of them thought small when it came to meal preparation. They couldn’t, really; a score of mortals and almost twice that many Servants ate a lot of food, especially when it was good, and it almost always was. When Ushiwaka and her lord reported for kitchen duty, they found a dauntingly-sized pile of potatoes earmarked for that night’s meal.

Lord Fujimaru set to work with his habitual good cheer. He wasn’t especially fast or skilled at peeling, but he was conscientious and had clearly done the work before. Ushiwaka herself had grudgingly learned the basics of food preparation at Kurama Temple, though she’d skipped out whenever she could. Potatoes might be novel, but if you’d diced one sort of tuber, you’d pretty much diced them all. Still, she didn’t regret offering to help.

Her hands ran on autopilot turning Fujimaru’s peeled potatoes into even, finger-width cubes as she mulled over whether or not to bring up the dream with him. It was a dilemma. She probably should disclose it, but that would involve that most loathsome of all emotions, awkwardness.

Lord Fujimaru tossed another peeled potato into her bin, “It’s nice to do something that isn’t a life-or-death struggle or, uh, preparing for a life-or-death struggle. Stuff like this makes Chaldea feel more real to me, you know? For a while, I couldn’t shake the thought that I was imagining everything, or got caught in some kind of reality TV show.”

“Some kind of what, my lord?” Summoning-granted knowledge wasn’t helping with that one.

“Sorry, that’s a hard one to explain,” he said. “Um, like an elaborate practical joke meant to make me think all this was real for other people’s entertainment.”

“It sounds like people have not changed much since my time.” She chuckled. “That sounds like something my mentor might have done. Probably only to someone they really disliked, though.”

“Kiichi Hōgen? Was he really a tengu? There’s a lot of stories, and some of them are contradictory.”

“They may all be true. They were a tengu, but they had as many identities as the leaves on a tree - man, woman, bird, tanuki, whatever they felt like.” Distance lent the memory of her mentor’s quirks some fondness, but she still frowned in well-remembered irritation. “Kiichi the swordmaster was just one they favored at Kurama Temple.”

“That must have been complicated.”

Ushiwaka tilted her head in thought. “I didn’t find it so. They were whimsical, arrogant, sometimes frustrating. Wise, when they wanted to be. But complicated? More the opposite, really.”

He chuckled. “Straightforward, arrogant, and whimsical? Sounds like they’d fit in here.”

She made a face. “Please, no, my lord. That would be… Augh. I can’t complain about the quality of their instruction, but I would like to be done with it. That was one of the reasons I left Kurama.” Her hands hadn’t stopped while she talked - slicing things was something she could do without thought - but when she reached for the next peeled potato she found none. She swept the pile of potato cubes off of the cutting board into a tub and glanced up.

Fujimaru looked embarrassed and grabbed another potato to peel. “Whoops. Sorry, got distracted.”

“What’s next after the potatoes, my lord?”

“Well, after this, there’s the onions.” Fujimaru gestured toward the next table over, where a hill of onions loomed. The yellow-white mound probably weighed half as much as Ushiwaka did. A single paring knife gleamed at them, stuck perfectly upright in the topmost onion. Her lord regarded the pile with a touch of exasperation. “Emiya’s a little melodramatic sometimes, isn’t he?”

Ushiwaka nodded, frowning. “My lord… The consequences of preparing that many onions could be unfortunate.” A glance showed her he was thinking the same thing.

“Yeah. I wonder if Emiya has any goggles in here?”

She considered the problem. Her eyes narrowed. “I know of one Servant who will help, if he knows what’s good for him.”

* * *

“My lord Yoshitsune, Master, you may leave these onions to me.” The Servant who called himself ‘Benkei’ surveyed the pile and nodded to himself.

He’d been summoned a week ago, and Ushiwaka wondered if he’d realized that she’d seen through his disguise the moment she’d laid eyes on him. It was infuriating to have Benkei’s old rival pretending to be him, but for the moment, it didn’t matter. Both of them had been her retainers in life. Benkei wouldn’t have considered disobeying her. After what he’d done to her, Hitachibou Kaison wouldn’t dare.

“I suppose you wouldn’t let a little thing like chopping onions bother you,” Ritsuka said, oblivious to the substitution.

Kaison gave the onions an intimidating frown. Perhaps the fool expected them to quail before him. “Of course not. It is a simple matter of willpower! A man who could withstand a hundred arrows without falling - how could such a one be stopped by root vegetables?”

Ushiwaka thought she saw trepidation beneath the bluster, and hid a smirk. Call himself ‘Benkei’, would he? Pretend to a better man’s legend? As if he was worthy to touch the hem of Benkei’s robe. The cowardly wretch deserved worse than merely onion in the eyes.

Lord Fujimaru eyed the pile warily. “Is it okay if we work… over there?” He pointed to a station nearly on the other side of the kitchen, where presumably the onions’ miasma wouldn’t reach.

Kaison gave a solemn nod. “Stay as far away as you need, Master. My task has often been to stand between harm and my liege.”

Ushiwaka felt her breath catch from sheer outrage. How dare he? Here? To my very face? Her eyes narrowed at him as the memory surfaced.

“Hitachibou Kaison is not here, my lord,” Benkei rumbled, as they looked down from the manor windows at the army which had come for her head. Condemnation rang in his voice. “I did not think him so craven as to abandon his lord in her final hours.”

“If he sees some point in continuing to live in this world, then let him remain until he can no longer stand it,” Yoshitsune replied dispassionately, refusing to admit how badly this final betrayal stung. “I was a fool to go on as long as I have.”

Her heart hammered in her ears and pumped icy water through her veins. She wouldn’t have it said she’d slain him with his back turned. She’d call his name sharply, his real one, and when he turned, all it would take would be a single cut -

She wrestled the fury down and unclenched her hand from Usumidori’s hilt. This faker was just an annoyance who might still be of some use to her lord. That was all that mattered. Putting on an impassive face, she tried to tune out the rest of the banter between her lord and her wayward retainer.

When Lord Fujimaru clapped Kaison on the back and walked away, she walked with him, holding in her anger. No, she thought, helping Fujimaru haul their potatoes as far away from the onions as they could get, she wouldn’t kill Kaison. She still wanted to, a little, but he didn’t deserve a quick punishment. She’d make use of him until his game grew old, at least -

“Ushiwaka? Ushi? You okay?”

She stopped short, startled. Lord Fujimaru was leaning in front of her, looking concerned. Her head cleared in the time it took her to blink. 

“I… Yes, my lord! It’s nothing. Just an old memory.”

“Oh.” He nodded as he picked up his paring knife again. “Memories can be a problem.”

She resumed dicing the potatoes as well, a little slower and more thoughtful than before. She swallowed and tried to concentrate on warming the ice that seemed to settle in her heart. That cold, desolate anger belonged to Yoshitsune. She did not want to be that woman here. When she felt sufficiently thawed, she explained, “My memories are strange to me, sometimes. I recall everything up to a point as if I lived it, but after that, they feel odd. Like a house that I’ve had described to me a dozen times, but never set foot in.”

“It sounds like you never got the chance to get used to them. I wonder how much of us is our memories, and how much is us living with them?” He raised his voice a little to speak over the loud chopping sounds coming from the other side of the room. “Do you know whether other Servants feel the same? I know Alexander is hazy on his adult memories.”

“Perhaps I will ask him.”

The noise from behind them was becoming harder to ignore. Lord Fujimaru paused mid-potato to turn and look. “Wow, look at him go!”

Tears were streaming from Kaison’s eyes as he peeled and chopped, his hands moving faster than any mortal chef’s. The thunk of his knife against the cutting board was like a drumroll. He was already a quarter of the way through the pile of onions, though he might have been slowing down a bit. He had to be more than half blind.

Ushi raised her voice. “Chop faster, Benkei! I am impatient to taste this curry our homeland has adopted, and Chef Emiya is waiting!”

“As you wish, Lord Yoshitsune!” The chopping sounds accelerated, as did the tears. Kaison’s mouth began moving in what she thought was some kind of mantra. Begging for forgiveness, maybe. One could hope.

Just barely loud enough for her to hear over the noise, Fujimaru said, “You know Emiya isn’t actually held up waiting for the onions, right?”

“Don’t worry,” she said, loud enough for Kaison to hear. “Like he said, Benkei was never troubled by a little discomfort.” Fujimaru watched Benkei for a few seconds, but when there was no disagreement, he shrugged and turned back to his potatoes.

A few potatoes later, Ushiwaka cleared her throat. “Ny lord, I have something of a confession to make.”

“Oh?” Fujimaru looked back up. “…Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so, my lord.”

“Okay.” He set his potato down and waited attentively. “Hit me.”

“A few days ago, I had a dream of your past. A conversation with Emiya at the night in the first Singularity you traveled to, the city on fire.”

He relaxed a little, then tensed again as she explained. “Huh, that was not at all what I thought you were going to say. Which is fine! It’s fine.”

Ugh, there was the awkwardness, right on time. “I did not mean to… eavesdrop, my lord,” she said after searching for a fitting word. “I could not help it.” Not that she would have if she could. Her curiosity had always been greater than her self-restraint, never a high bar to cross anyway. Better to let that remain unsaid, though.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just the whatchamacallit, the Dream Cycle. Half of my dreams these days are some hero’s memories.” Despite his words, he seemed distracted, and maybe a little uncomfortable. “So you got to hear me whining, huh? I was really hoping only Emiya and maybe Fou would have had to put up with that.”

Unsure what to say, Ushiwaka defaulted to heedless honesty. “Your complaints might not have been very heroic, but your commitment certainly was.”

“Oh, you saw that part, too? I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” He put on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and glanced away. “Well. I still don’t think I’m the right person for the job, but like Emiya said, it doesn’t matter whether I’ve got what it takes or not. I can’t just… not try. So, I’ll keep going as long as I can either way.”

I was a fool to go on as long as I have, her memory said again.

“My lord.” When he looked back to her, she leaned forward in emphasis, hoping the earnestness in her voice meant something. “Emiya told you to trust that you were good enough, and he meant it. Resignation is no substitute for hope. Believe me, I know.” Her smile faltered for a second before she propped it back up. “You are more capable than you think. If you cannot believe in yourself, then believe me when I say that you can lead us to victory. If this ‘Solomon’ says the halo above those Singularities is a portent of our defeat, then we shall tear it from the sky together!”

Fujimaru boggled at her for a second. “Did you just… ‘believe in the me that believes in you’ me?”

She hesitated, unsure why he was looking at her like that. “I… suppose you could say that?”

He laughed a few times, disbelieving, then took a deep breath. “Well, when your childhood hero tells you that, you’ve got to believe them, right? It’s practically a law.” By the end of the sentence, he was grinning, and the room seemed a little brighter as she saw some of the worry leaving his face.

Her own smile turned into a matching grin. “Perhaps you should put that on your list of rules for Masters.”

“I absolutely should,” he said. He held her eyes for a second, then coughed and continued, “Um. Okay! Let’s finish these potatoes. Emiya said he’d show me how he makes the sauce once the vegetables are ready.”

“Oh! An opportunity for lessons from a master is not to be missed, my lord. We should hurry!” Over her shoulder, she snapped, “Benkei! Faster!”

“Yes, my lord!” The sound of chopping sped up again.

Chapter Text

~ Kurama Temple, Late Spring, 1169 ~

From below, the stairs up Mount Kurama appear endless. Embraced on each side by towering trees, they rise up the slope until they vanish into the forest. The branches above dapple each wide, stone step with sunlight and shadow, swaying with the cedar-scented breeze. It is a lovely, peaceful climb.

Unwilling to appreciate the beauty of her surroundings, the girl glares down sullenly at the steps she’s climbing. Her escort, a monk whose name she has, through determined effort, avoided learning for the whole week-long journey from Fukuhara-kyō, precedes her up the steps. By this point, neither one of them can stand speaking to each other, so the only sounds are their feet on the warm stone, the rustling of the wind in the cedars, and the cawing of crows in the distance.

She does not want to be here.

She does not want to be anywhere that she knows of, and nowhere she knows of will have her. Anyone who cares for her is already dead or ruined. Father died before she ever knew him. Mother placed herself under the Chancellor’s thumb to protect her. Her own clan can’t afford to shelter her, and her father’s surviving allies won’t risk taking her in. She has been a liability all her life, and the knowledge burns in her.

These monks don’t want her either. It’s only at the request of her father’s killer that they’re taking her in.

She has never held any illusions about Imperial Chancellor Taira no Kiyomori, though she has been part of his household for more than half her life. The deaths of her father and half of her brothers lie squarely on his shoulders. She’s been spared because her mother swallowed her loathing to become his concubine, and because fostering his dead foe’s girl-child is a gracious way for him to demonstrate how secure his power is. He enjoys showing how little he fears the vengeance of the Genji. She and the brothers she’s never met are no threat to the Taira.

Yet, she swears silently, for the thousandth time. No threat to them yet.

For now, though, she is here, and she does not like it. Whether or not she has any choice in the matter, she understands that a monastery is no place for her, not intellectually, but with the bone-deep repugnance of a vibrant eight-year-old child at the prospect of a life of ritual and restraint. She wants to live, not dry up into a fossil. How could anyone do that to themselves? It’s all she can do not to break away and run, but there’s nowhere to run to, forward or back.

Part of her wants to cry at the thought, but she’s cried enough to shame her already on the way here, in between bouts of fury and homesickness and indignation. She’s done with it. She takes that piece of her, crumples it up, wraps it around itself, and ties it in the tightest knot she can make. It strains, but she holds it tight until it stops fighting.

There. No more tears. Simple.

She lifts her head and distracts herself trying to guess how far it is to the top. Mount Kurama is not tall, as mountains go, but seen from the foothills, it’s imposing. She wonders if the steps go all the way up to the peak. Probably not; she’s heard the tengu live atop the highest of these wooded peaks, wild and magical spirits of the mountains. If the other monks here are anything like her escort, they’d want nothing to do with them. The thought of meeting one gives her a brief, bright flash of enthusiasm. All the stories she’s heard of them were tinged with fear, but she can’t remember ever being truly afraid of anything, and she thinks it would be very fine indeed to be like they are, wondrous and dangerous and free.

“Oh, back from Fukuhara at last, Dai-sōzu?” Both she and her escort look up at the voice. Sitting on the next landing is another monk, who rises to his feet and comes down to meet them. “Two whole seasons away from us! It’s good to see you again after so long, Brother. And who’s the little sparrow with you?”

The diminutive nickname irritates her, but there’s a casual good humor in the new monk’s lilting baritone that keeps even a touchy, restless eight-year-old from taking too much offense. He’s broad-shouldered beneath his black robes, and would be tall even without the extra height from his single-toothed geta. A wide inverted bowl of a straw hat covers his head, tilted at a rakish angle so only one bright eye and bushy eyebrow can be seen above a long nose. His easy smile makes creases on his tanned face. With interest, she notes the long tachi scabbarded at his waist, its only ornament a feathered tassel hanging from the pommel. He must be a swordsman as well as a priest, then, which isn’t uncommon but does raise him a notch or two in her estimation.

Her escort bows deeply enough that this must be a superior. “Kiichi Hōgen, it’s a pleasure to greet you once more. This young lady is the daughter of the late Lord Minamoto-no-Yoshitomo. By the request of her family, and that of the honored Lord Chancellor Taira-no-Kiyomori, she will be joining us here for the foreseeable future.” Her mood sours further at her foster-father’s name.

“Well met, then!” The senior monk gives her a little bow, which she begrudgingly returns, and peers at her sidelong from one canny eye, chuckling in the back of his throat. “Not very happy to be here, are you, Sparrow?”

“No, Hōgen, I am not,” she snaps back, not trying to hide her sullenness. His one visible eye widens in amused surprise.

“Oh, hold your tongue, girl, or at least be pleasant for once,” mutters the escort, in a weary tone.

“I shan’t.” They can be bothered by what she says all they like. She already knows she’s not staying here a minute longer than she must. Where she’ll go, she doesn’t know, but she’ll not be a monk or a nun or any such thing. There’s a conspiratorial twinkle in the senior monk’s eye that encourages her to prod her escort even further. “Should I not answer my elders when asked? I’ll not tell a lie.”

The consternation her escort shows is matched by the amusement of his senior. “Well spoken, little sparrow! What’s the good of a lie? A trick’s one thing, but a lie’s no good at all.”

“I’m no sparrow,” she says, both gratified by the compliment and annoyed by repeatedly being likened to such an inoffensive bird.

The tall monk sits down on her step. To her further irritation, she notes that even sitting he’s as tall as she is standing. With amusement, but no malice, he says, “Oh? What are you, then? A swallow? A gull? A young falcon, perhaps?"

She draws herself up as tall as her eight-year-old body allows. “I am Ushiwakamaru, a Genji, and no beast at all.”

“Hah, perhaps you’re a hedgehog, so prickly are you! But I’ve a fondness for prickly things, hedgehogs and humans both.” He gives her an unbothered smile, then looks her escort up and down. “Dai-sōzu,” he says, naming the other monk by rank, “I’ve little to do right now. I’m sure you’re weary from the road and from having to travel with such a, hah, a thorny responsibility. You go on ahead, pay your respects,and refresh yourself as you need, and I’ll see to settling in the young falcon here.”

The junior monk looks between them, hesitating. “I couldn’t possibly impose upon you, Hōgen.” Propriety requires him to refuse, even if his desire to accept is obvious.

“Now, now, it’s no trouble, truly. I’d appreciate talking with a new young face. You know how tiresome we all get after a long winter.” Kiichi Hōgen makes a placating gesture, showing that there’s no need to keep up the usual polite refusals.

“If you’re sure, Hōgen…”

“Of course! I’ve asked to do it, haven’t I? We’ll be fine, and you and she look to be rubbing each other the wrong way. Making her bristle is no way for her to meet us, and prickled with hedgehog quills is no way for you to return. Go on with you! Just let the Risshi know the girl’s with me when you get up to the refectory, and we’ll be along in good time.”

Bowing repeatedly, the monk says, “Of course, of course. Thank you, Hōgen. It has indeed been a long and…” He casts Ushiwakamaru a flat look, which she returns with interest. “...very trying trip.”

Ushiwakamaru watches her last link to the only place that’s passed for home in her life walk away from her without so much as a backwards glance, and refuses to feel anything. Instead, she sniffs, makes another wind around that knot inside her, and twists it tighter. Not a single tear leaks out.

The senior monk watches his brother go and chuckles.“Always been a bit uptight, that one. Ah, well, he’ll relax when he passes on, if he doesn’t manage it before!”

Looking for distraction, she turns to the monk, unfazed by his casual reference to death. The animal comparisons are still irksome, but his last one wasn’t so bad; she supposes it wouldn’t be so bad to be a falcon. “What’s the difference between a trick and a lie?” she asks.

The monk turns back to blink at her, then rears his head back in boisterous laughter, slapping his knee. “Do you know, for all the times I’ve made that distinction, no one’s ever asked me that before?” When he’s recovered, the man squints at Ushiwakamaru with that one gleaming eye. She’d thought him a spry forty or forty-five years, but for a moment, she isn’t sure whether he’s a weathered thirty years old or as ancient and ageless as the mountain itself. “A very good question! For asking such a clever thing, I’ll tell you my answer. But first, you tell me: what do you think the difference is?”

Put on the spot, she shifts uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think there was a difference at all.”

“Not so quick with a good answer as a good question, eh? No matter, no matter, one can’t have everything so young.” Ushiwakamaru frowns at the condescension, but the monk goes on. “Now, a good question has as many answers as there are people to answer it, but here’s mine, and you can take it as wisdom or foolishness as you like. A lie makes you serve it. You have to act in a way you don’t want to, bend in ways you don’t want to bend, so your lie isn’t uncovered. A trick serves you. You show the part of you you want to show, and get them to act as you want them to while you stay yourself. You see? One puts you in the hands of another, and the other puts them in your hands.”

Ushiwkamaru thinks about that. All her life, she’s been in someone else’s hands, and all her life, she’s resented feeling them squeeze. “If I had to choose, I’d rather trick than lie. I think I’d rather be tricked than lied to, even. Tricksters might be having fun, but liars must resent the people they lie to awfully.”

That sharp eye squints at her. “For words like that to come from one so young and honest, perhaps you’ve some experience with liars?”

She briefly averts her eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the point, but a rush of frustration at herself for backing down provokes her. Meeting his eye again, she says, “I wouldn’t fear being in someone’s hands at all, if they weren’t a liar or a trickster.”

The monk chuckles and clambers to his feet with loose-limbed grace. “Nor should you, if you can snare such a rare bird! For now, though, consider yourself in my hands. I may trick you just a little, but I’ll not lie to you. That’s the best you’ll find on this mountain save the images of the Buddhas. They have an easy time with honesty, since they don’t do anything or say anything.” He extends his hand to her.

“You don’t sound like a very good priest,” Ushiwakamaru says, taking his hand. Whether he’s a good priest or not, she likes him despite herself.

“That’s because the very worst priests and the very best sound the same,” the monk says, and he laughs again. It’s infectious; she shouldn’t want to smile at such irreverence, but she does. “I think a young falcon ready to stretch her wings might want lessons that a statue can’t teach. Perhaps I could show you a little of how to use one of these.” He pats the scabbarded tachi at his hip with his free hand.

Her heart leaps. “Yes!” she says, without a moment’s hesitation. His smile becomes a grin, and for the first time since she’s left home, she can smile back.

As he leads her up the stairs toward her new home, she looks up at him and asks, “Do you think I’ll be able to meet a tengu while I’m here?”

“Oh, I think you might, if you look hard enough,” replies the monk, chuckling. “After all, I have!”

* * *

April 22, 2018

The harsh bzzzzz of a Chaldea HQ door buzzer broke through the rustling of wind in tall cedars. Stone stairs underfoot were replaced by smooth, institutional-style bedclothes and the cawing of crows changed to the sound of a kouhai trying to split the difference between politeness and urgency.

“Senpai! Are you awake yet? I hope you slept well, but if we don’t hurry, breakfast will be over!”

“Uh… Yeah, I think.” Ritsuka blinked and rubbed his face as he dragged himself to a sitting position in his bed. Raising his voice, he said, “Yeah! Good morning, Mash! Sorry I overslept.” He glanced at his bedside clock and winced at what it showed. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you at the cafeteria?”

“I’ll save you one of the pastries!” Her muffled voice sounded relieved.

Ritsuka smiled through a yawn. “Thanks, but don’t! I need the motivation this morning!”

He heard Mash giggle. “All right, Senpai. See you there.”

Ritsuka had never been a morning person, but he’d had plenty of involuntary training in how to get up and move before he was completely awake. He put it to good use, splashing water on his face, throwing on one of his regular outfits, and generally making himself halfway presentable as rapidly as possible. Fighting his increasingly ungroomable hair was usually a good way to put nightmares out of his mind. None of the twenty or so mortal humans in the complex had the time to give each other haircuts, which left them at the mercy of whichever Servants felt like being domestic. For Ritsuka especially, that was kind of a crapshoot.

This morning, even that battle wasn’t enough to distract him from that dream.

He’d always thought of his childhood hero as a bold young warrior on a path of brilliant, righteous vengeance. He’d never thought of Ushi as being something as mundane and unheroic as lonely or unwanted, a child who’d never known a stable family. It put her relentless lionization of her brother in a different light.

He’d have to have a chat with Ushi and see if something was bothering her. It was nice to have an excuse to talk to her -

Ritsuka stopped short and made a face at himself in the mirror of his tiny bathroom. He was doing it again, wasn’t he?

There had been a moment, maybe a month before, when he’d been talking with Ushi over cutting potatoes, and she’d said something unexpected that made them both smile, and he’d been briefly struck by how attractive she was, in the way that you notice something you were already aware of because it’s suddenly relevant. The distinction between ‘she’s attractive’ and ‘I’m attracted to her’.

Ritsuka hadn’t said or done anything about it, of course. It wasn’t the first time he’d been smitten with a Servant and it likely wouldn’t be the last. With a few exceptions, his summoned friends tended to be good-looking, charismatic, and attentive, and he was no more immune to that combination than any other seventeen-year-old even when they weren’t also paragons of humanity. He was still a little embarrassed about how awkwardly tongue-tied he'd been around Cu Chulainn for most of a month after they’d finished with Orleans. It hadn't helped that was pretty sure he wasn’t the Lancer’s type at all.

Getting infatuated with Heroic Spirits seemed like a bad idea. Of course, if thinking a crush was trouble had ever made one go away, he’d never heard of it, and this one was proving hard to shake.

He shrugged at himself in the mirror, gave his hair one last frustrated tug, and hurried off to try to snatch breakfast from the jaws of defeat. Just like the rest of his worries, whatever he was feeling about Ushi wouldn’t cause any problems as long as he didn’t go around advertising it. He just needed to wait for it to go away on its own.

Chapter Text

North America, May 13, 2018

War cries rang through the forest, punctuated by hoarse screams of pain. A druid’s spell shattered against a magic circle at the end of Medea’s hand. Twisted steel arrows punched through a woad-smeared warrior’s shield. Trees fell as Erik Bloodaxe swung his namesake through them and the bowmen behind them.

Another week in North America, another battle with the Celts.

This one had started out as a surprise attack just after they’d stopped to make camp, but by now the Chaldean Servants had it mostly in hand. Still, Ritsuka refused to let up his vigilance. It was most of what he brought to the field. He squinted past Medea’s lightshow at a group of figures moving behind the ragged line the Servants had established. What the hell are they doing sneaking around back there? Circling the field that way would get them around the line and towards…

He grimaced. Nightingale materialized a medical tent any time they stopped for more than a few minutes, and she was still inside with her patient Rama. “They’re going for Nightingale,” he said urgently, pointing through the trees. Next to him, Mash’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Let’s cut them off.”

“Right, Master!” Mash hefted her shield and sprinted toward the tent.

Ritsuka struggled to keep up with her and keep an eye on the approaching enemies at the same time. As they closed in, he grimaced when he saw a shadowy figure behind the approaching Celts. It looked like a chunk of night running through the evening light, leaking smoky mist.

“Mash, watch out! Shadow Servant!” Mash didn’t look back; she was far enough ahead that he wasn’t sure she could hear him. He clenched his teeth and sent a thread of power through his Mystic Code to enhance her. With a sudden burst of speed, Mash crashed shield-first into the flanking enemies, scattering them. Ritsuka skidded to a halt and got ready to fire off a Command Seal if she needed one. They had to do as much damage as they could before the Shadow Servant arrives. The two of them would have to hold until another Servant could -

There was a godawful screeching roar from behind and above, a sound he’d become all too familiar with over the last year. Wyverns.

His blood ran cold as he realized Mash was too far ahead, leaving him completely exposed. He dove to the ground, teeth clenched, bracing for pain that didn’t come. Instead, there was a pair of enormous thuds as two wyvern bodies fell from the sky about ten meters away, wings flopping limply. The earth shook with the impact, and red sludge sprayed from their neck stumps. The next moment, their heads tumbled down next to him, thump-roll, each one the size of his torso. From all fours, he stared in shock at the wyverns’ heads, amber eyes glaring even in death.

Ushiwakamaru landed lightly beside the heads, her sword and armor streaked with red. She leaned down and offered him a bloody hand up, smiling as if all was right with the world. “Do you need a hand, my lord?”

He sucked in a breath, pushed it out again. C’mon, Ritsuka, back to business. Freak out on your own time. Clasping Ushi’s hand, blood and all, he let her pull him to his feet. “Thanks, Ushi,” he muttered. He still couldn’t take his eyes off of the gaping mouths, full of fangs like steak knives.

Yet another death he’d never seen coming, averted at the last moment.

“A samurai’s job is to eliminate her lord’s problems, is it not? And a good one does so expeditiously,” Ushi said, with great satisfaction. He tore his eyes away to find Ushi giving him what he thought of as her I-did-good-didn’t-I-my-lord smile.

“Guess that makes you a great one,” he said, and winced internally at how shaky he sounded. “Think you can get rid of that Shadow Servant too?” he asked.

Smirking a little from the praise, Ushi regarded the ominous, smoky-black figure with half-lidded eyes. “Hm. A dangerous task. I’m too low on energy to call on my Noble Phantasm.” Her smirk turned into a beaming smile. “Watch me, my lord!” She took off like a shot, darting toward the black figure.

By that time, Emiya and Mash had caught most of the remaining attackers between them. Between Mash’s rapidly-growing skill with her shield and Emiya’s efficient bladework, the attackers were falling fast. The last of them made a mad dash for the tent flap and tore it aside with a roar, to be greeted with six revolver rounds and what looked like anl IV stand right through his chest. Toppling backwards, he revealed Nightingale standing impassively in the opening. She stripped the gloves off of her hands, dropped them on the bloody corpse, replaced them with new, sterile ones, and disappeared back into the tent.

Well, that was one problem solved.

Ritsuka turned his attention back to Ushi. She was a blur of motion, whirling like a dancer as Shadow Servant engaged her. Her sword was sheathed again, but her hand never left its hilt, waiting for the moment to strike. The dark figure twirled its spear, striking at her with haft and point like a quarterstaff, but Ushi slipped each strike with impromptu grace, the lacquered armor she’d begun sporting recently made entirely unnecessary by her agility.

The look of steely focus on her face never slipped as she darted around the Shadow Servant, barely seeming to touch the ground. Ritsuka could tell when she found an opening because she changed directions practically in mid-air. One instant she was whirling away from the tip of a black spear, and the next she was crouched low and flashing toward the imitation Lancer. She slid beneath its guard, her sword a silver crescent as she unsheathed it.

Then she was past it and darting toward the lone remaining Celt warrior without looking back. Behind her, the Shadow Servant fell apart into neat diagonal halves, spraying startlingly red blood across the ground. Halfway to her target, she kicked off of the ground and spun the rest of her momentum into a tumbling leap, sleeves trailing like banners. Her arc through the air ended with her sword buried between the warrior’s eyes. She rode the corpse to the ground, snapped her sword free, and straightened up to sweep the field with her eyes for her next victim. Finding only allies in sight, she stepped away from the corpses with a dancer’s poise and a smile, flicking her blade clean.

Ritsuka swallowed. This was not helping with his crush. Violence probably wasn’t supposed to be that attractive, right?

“You all there, Master?” Emiya said quietly, appearing at his side.

Ritsuka blinked and turned to the Archer. “Yeah. Sorry, back now.” He was embarrassingly aware that he’d just lost four or five seconds of volitional thought watching a pretty girl wreak graceful havok on their enemies. It was a good thing she’d finished off the last of them, because he’d forgotten to be looking out for danger at all.

Emiya shrugged. “It happens.”

Trying to hide his embarrassment, Ritsuka said, “Really? I didn’t expect that coming from you, Hawkeye.”

The Archer’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “You might be surprised. Pretty girls with swords can be awfully distracting. But if it’s at the point where you’re getting distracted like that, the important thing is to do something about it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll figure out a way to keep my mind on the fight.” Ritsuka sighed. Emiya was right, but it wasn’t like he was getting distracted on purpose. What was he supposed to do about - “Wait, that means two things.” Ritsuka frowned. When he turned to ask, Emiya was already walking away, not bothering to hide his smirk.

Ritsuka was pretty sure the guy didn’t need Clairvoyance to notice the raised middle finger aimed at his back. And he says I’m the smartass.

Light footsteps hit the grass behind him. “Shadow Servant dispatched, my lord!” Ushi said, sounding extremely satisfied with herself. Just the tone of her voice brought a smile to his face.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ushi,” he said, wIthout turning around. “But no heads this time, right?”

There was a pause, and he heard a pair of leafy thumps, as if a couple of bowling balls had been thrown into the bushes. “Of course not, my lord!”

* * *

After the interruption to her treatment, Nightingale had redoubled her efforts to keep Rama stable. Once she’d really gotten into it, the screams of agony coming from the tent became almost unbearable, and the Chaldean team rapidly found reasons to scout, keep watch from the woods, look for supplies, or otherwise absent themselves from the situation until the patient had either improved or passed out.

Ritsuka was no exception. “Hey, Ushi, mind coming with me for a walk? I want to take a look at the river and I’d rather not go alone. First rule for Masters and all that.” The first rule, of course, was never to go anywhere without a Servant, a lesson driven home by his close call earlier. Mash was usually his go-to bodyguard, but she was off helping Dr. Roman sweep for leyline terminals. Ritsuka really wasn’t sure whether it was legitimate Chaldea business, or just something the doctor had cooked up to get Mash away from the screaming

Ushi blinked at the request. “Um. Of course, my lord! Just a moment!” she said, looking around rapidly. Without another word, she vanished in a blur of motion. leaving Ritsuka wondering where she’d gone. He hoped she got back before Nightingale came looking for him.

Just when he was about to sit down, Ushi trotted back from the other side of camp, calling, “Ready, my lord!” Ritsuka raised his eyebrows at the sight of Benkei looming beside and behind her like a huge, deferent shadow. “I hope it is all right if Benkei joins us. He has not been with us for long, and I believe he would like to get to know you better.”

“I would?” Benkei asked. Ushi gave him a stern sidelong look, and he quickly nodded. “Oh! Yes, indeed, I was just saying as much.”

“Well… sure.” Ritsuka tried to ignore the niggling sense of disappointment he felt at Ushi bringing someone else along. He hadn’t really gotten to know the big Servant, and if she was badgering Benkei into getting to know him, maybe he ought to make time. “Mostly I want to get out of here before Nightingale conscripts me again. She keeps trying to teach me her ‘procedures’, but I’m not sure she realizes I can’t help her hold down a Saber. I think -“

From the medical tent, another, even more grating scream of pain cut through the air, briefly silencing the crickets and frogs.

Into the quiet, Ritsuka said, “...Yeah, I’m leaving now. C’mon if you’re coming.”

The forest they walked through had a few pines, but was mostly a kind of tree he wasn’t familiar with, with broad leaves and straight, silver-white trunks that gleamed in the setting sun. After a few minutes’ walk through the woods, the trio reached the river. Ritsuka wasn’t sure just which one it was - Japan had a sensible two dozen rivers or so, but North America was impossibly large. The forest grew right up to its edge. When he slid down the bank to touch the water, it was chill despite the warmth of the late spring. It was wider and swifter than he’d expected.

“Lord Romani says it is only a week to the coast,” Ushi said, looking across the water with interest. “I hope we can find Lady Sita there. Perhaps it is rude of me to say, and I would never speak ill of Prince Rama, but his screaming is starting to wear on me.”

“You and me both.” Ritsuka clambered back up the bank and wiped off his hands. “But the real question for me is how we’re going to get to the prison at all. Alcatraz is an island, right? I don’t think I’m up for that long of a swim.” He really hoped it wouldn’t come down to being carried by a swimming Servant. He’d only barely managed to convince Roman that he shouldn’t try to cross North America via Servant piggyback ride.

“I hadn’t considered that. Ugh. Will we need to call upon that pirate?” The distasteful look on Ushi’s face showed what she thought of that.

“Sounds like we've got a week to come up with non-Blackbeard options.” Ritsuka did not want to get into another argument about Blackbeard. He also didn’t want the pirate anywhere near a genuine damsel in distress. If Blackbeard started into his creep routine at Sita, Rama would rise from his deathbed to obliterate him.

Ushi gave the issue a moment’s thought. “Hm. Benkei once threw an island together for me when we needed shelter from a storm. He could probably manage a causeway to this Alcatraz.”

“My lord Yoshitsune is too kind,” Benkei rumbled, diffident but proud. “It was only a small island, hardly worth mentioning.”

“Besides, there is already a prison there. Perhaps the enemy has constructed a bridge, or keeps boats nearby. I may not be a pirate,” Ushi said with a grin, “but I’m more than capable of commandeering enemy vessels.”

Ritsuka nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. I’m just trying to keep ahead of things.”

“An admirable quality in a war leader,” Benkei offered, “but without more information, we may be getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Waiting is the worst part of warfare, or really anything else,” Ushi said, nodding as if to emphasize her understanding. “But fretting over things to come without knowing enough to make plans will only make you less ready when the time comes, my lord. That is why it is important to relax when one can.”

Ritsuka nodded reluctantly. The two of them made sense, but he just wasn’t sure he could turn off his worries just like that.. “What do you two do to relax, anyway? Apart from pirate monkey removal."

“Meditation. Prayer. And sometimes I tell stories,” Benkei said. He straightened a little. “If it would please both of you, I could do so now.” Before Ritsuka could agree, Ushi made a displeased sound and shook her head, and Benkei settled back again. “Perhaps another time, then.”

“Ah!” Ushi perked up. “I’m no storyteller like Benkei here, but perhaps my lord would enjoy some music?”

“Do you play?” He’d never seen Ushi play or sing, except the one time he’d run into her in her cups trying to drunkenly teach Jing Ke some ancient Japanese ditty he suspected wasn’t very polite. That had been embarrassing for everyone except Jing Ke, who’d just laughed and offered him a full cup she knew he wouldn’t accept.

From nowhere, Ushi twirled a bamboo flute into her hand and held it out for show. He whistled softly. Even knowing next to nothing of such things, its clean elegance and the fineness of its golden decorations were remarkable. “This is Murasame-maru, which was quite famous in its day,” she said with pride. Her grin was sharp with amusement. “Also expensive. Mother tricked that swine Kiyomori into giving it to me before he sent me away. Would you like to hear it?”

Taken by surprise, Ritsuka nodded. “Uh… Sure, why not?” He sat down against a tree, and Benkei settled down smoothly into a kneeling position nearby.

Ushi smiled, raised the flute to her lips, and began to play. The first note rose up from beneath the evening sounds, clear and sweet, with the faint hollowness that bamboo brought. The song drifted softly through the trees, harmonizing with the rustling of leaves and the rushing of the river.

It was an old sound that hearkened back to times long past; to Ritsuka, it called up impressions of paper lanterns and festival-goers in flowing, traditional outfits, and behind that a hint of something deeper and more ancient, a link back through the ages to a time of mystery and wonder. Ritsuka closed his eyes to listen better. There was a heritage there, a shared history that he could feel a connection to, even if he’d never understand it like Ushi did.

The sound shifted upwards, and Ritsuka opened his eyes again. Now Ushiwaka was balanced above them on one foot atop a branch he’d swear was too thin to bear her weight. With one knee up and elbows out, what would have been an awkward, stylized pose for anyone else looked strangely natural for Ushi dr. Her fingers flew skillfully across the flute’s holes, faster now, and the wind rose with the music as if called. It lifted her hair into a long stream and blew her sleeves out to the side, competing with the flute to stay level.

He couldn’t look away. She was in motion standing still. if it weren’t for the ground he could feel beneath his legs, he could almost believe they’d all taken flight.

This was definitely not helping with his crush.

After what seemed like a very long time, the last note died away. Ushi gave the flute a reminiscent smile. Benkei still had his eyes closed, looking as if he were recalling memories both happy and sad.

Ritsuka waited until he felt like he wouldn't be intruding, which purely by coincidence was about when he’d gotten reins back on his emotions. “Um. Wow, that was amazing.”

Ushi dropped back down to earth and bowed. “I am glad you enjoyed it, my lord.”

“That flute - is that the one you played for Kiichi Hōgen’s daughter?”

With a flicker of Ushi’s fingers, the flute vanished back to where it came. “I see you weren’t joking when you said you knew my history. It’s a strange thing to have one’s life laid out for others to see so plainly.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you. 

She gave a small smile. “I don’t mind, my lord.”

“So…” He had to ask. “You really seduced Kiichi Hōgen’s kid to get at his combat manuals? I thought that story was made up.”

Ushi laughed and straightened up proudly. “No, it’s true. Did you think that just because I’m a warrior that I have no other talents? She was her father’s daughter and a dai-tengu herself, but in just a day, I swept her off her feet! By the next morning, I had his secrets in my hands. Hah, then it was a matter of surviving his anger when he found out, which was much more difficult.”

“My lord Yoshitsune was only twelve years old at the time,” Benkei said.

“I was precocious,” Ushi said, nodding firmly.

“Precocious indeed.” Benkei tilted his head toward Ritsuka, raised his hand near his mouth in a way that did nothing whatsoever to hide his words, and stage-whispered, “I heard that the young lady agreed the theft would be an amusing trick, after Lord Yoshitsune brought her a handful of wildflowers and a hastily-written tanka.” Ritsuka couldn’t help but grin.

“You scoundrel!” Ushi's eyes narrowed, and her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword, though her outrage couldn’t hide the way her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I sweated over that poem! Benkei, shut your mouth and present your neck!”

Benkei let out a mournful sigh. “Alas! To associate with the great is to tread a narrow path in high places, and I have misstepped. Now, I must pay for my many sins.” He bowed deeply at the waist, extended his neck as far as he could, and closed his eyes, hands positioned in some sort of mudra. “Namu Amida butsu, namu Amida butsu…”

Eyes cutting to Ritsuka and back, Ushi pursed her lips and sighed. “Oh, sit up, you wretched, overgrown monkey.” Benkei smoothly straightened up, still quietly murmuring his sutra, though Ritsuka could see a few drops of sweat on the big man’s forehead. Ushi glared at him again before turning to Ritsuka. “My lord, does this man’s grotesque head offend you in any way? I can’t bring myself to get rid of him for my own sake, but if it would ease your burdens at all, I would be eager to assist you.”

Ritsuka hadn’t stopped grinning at the performance. “And miss out on the chance to hear about your infamous seduction technique? No way. I’m glad to have you at Chaldea, Benkei.” Benkei gave a short bow in response.

“Not you too, my lord?” Ushi’s face fell, and she looked away, muttering, “I’ll have you know my technique has improved since then.”

Benkei eyed Ushi sidelong, as if to be sure she’d given up on beheadings for now, and changed the subject. “Ahh, what about you, Master? Would you favor us with a tale?”

“I would’ve thought you’d know all the legends I do and more from the Throne of Heroes,” Ritsuka said. “I mean… I could tell you about mecha shows or something, I guess? I don’t know if you get TV Asahi at the Throne, and I doubt Amuro Rey qualifies as a Heroic Spirit.” Even if he totally should.

Benkei shook his head, warming to the subject. “No, Master, I meant a story about you. For better or worse, Lord Yoshitsune knows all my stories, but surely you must have some tale of your own worth sharing? I would be interested to know the sort of person my Master is, what you have seen and done that makes you… you.” Ushi nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Ritsuka was a little taken aback. “I… I guess? I feel like I’m pretty much a what you see is what you get kind of guy. I can talk about myself if you want, but you Heroic Spirits are hard acts to follow, you know? You’ve probably heard better from other Servants, so whatever I tell you is likely to be pretty dull by comparison.”

“You are an important person to us,” Ushi ventured, dropping gracefully and all at once into a sitting position. “Also, while I am as fond of legends and war stories as anyone…” The smile stayed, but her eyes glazed over a little. “…I have heard so many of them in the last year.” Benkei nodded agreement.

There didn’t seem to be much help for it. Ritsuka shrugged his acceptance. “Okay, but I have no idea what to tell you. Why don’t you just ask what you want to know?”

“How did you come to join Chaldea, Master? Was there some kind of worldwide contest, or a manhunt for the best candidates, or some such?” Benkei asked.

“Uh, nope.” Ritsuka shook his head. “I called the number on a flyer someone was handing out in a subway station.”

There was a pause, as the Servants parsed their way through newly-acquired modern knowledge of flyers and subways , and then a longer pause, as they considered the implications.

“I would not have expected that,” Ushi said after a moment.

Ritsuka nodded his complete agreement. “I know, right?! You'd think they would have taken recruitment more seriously!”

“If it was so odd, Lord Fujimaru,” Benkei ventured, “why would you respond?”

“That’s… hard to explain?” And maybe embarrassing, but if Benkei was going to bring Ushi a little more down to earth, the least he could do is offer up something awkward  too. “I don’t know how relatable this will be to a couple of warrior heroes, but, uh… Have you ever felt like your life was just… happening to you, instead of something you were doing?”

“No,” Benkei said, just as Ushi nodded and said, “Yes.” Somehow, that didn’t surprise Ritsuka, though Benkei gave her a startled look.

“I had…” Ritsuka stopped, took a quick breath, let it out. “ Had a good, secure, happy life, and I knew where it was going. I’d seen it dozens of times, on TV, in books, in real life. Acceptable grades, an after-school club, some uncontroversial hijinks with friends. After a couple of years I’d cram, go to university, graduate in the middle of my class, get a salaried office job, a little apartment, a weird but not too-weird hobby, maybe eventually a family. It was the sort of life trajectory that you'd get from making all the sensible, agreed-on decisions.” He smiled. “A less than one standard deviation kind of life.”

Ritsuka stopped, shrugged, and went on. “And then one day someone, I don’t even remember them, hands me this flyer as I’m getting onto the subway. I looked it over in the subway car. It was for some kind of internship at a foreign security agency, super uninformative, and it was just so weird that I kept re-reading it, trying to figure out if it was a joke, or an advertisement, or just stupid. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Who hands out job flyers for secret security organizations on public transit?”

“Even in my time we knew sorcerers didn’t do things like sensible folk,” Benkei said knowingly.

“Well, that night I called up the number on it and did a phone screening with some really weird questions. On a scale of one to ten,” he recited, “how attached are you to the future of the human race? If you had the opportunity to meet a historical figure, which would it be, and why? Yes or no: would your friends describe you as judgemental about their past?” Ritsuka’s brow furrowed as he went over that in his head. “Come to think of it, they might have been more relevant questions than they seemed at the time.”

He rallied his thoughts and carried on. “Anyway, uh… A few days later they sent me a contract for a summer internship which was even less informative. I thought about how ridiculous it would be to sign it - I still didn’t even know what Chaldea did, not that I would’ve believed it.”

“The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it anyway. Partly because I still wanted to know what the hell was going on, but mostly because… There’s a lot of pressure these days to… conform, I guess? To do the expected thing. Even if you’re weird, you’re supposed to be weird in the usual ways. And suddenly it felt like I was… training myself to stay in a box, instead of deciding to stay in the box. I didn’t want to be crazy all the time, but just once, I wanted to color way outside the lines just to prove to myself I could, to prove being normal was my choice." He sighed. "If I waited until I was an adult, it would have been too late, you know? The training would’ve been complete.”

“So a month and a couple of really confused and exasperated parents later, I was on a plane with a suitcase. Then things got weird fast. And a lot harder.” Ushi gave him a sympathetic look; she knew what he was talking about, but for once he didn’t feel like brooding when it came up. He just chuckled, a little surprised it didn’t come out forced. “I don’t know why Chaldea accepted me. Maybe I’m just the only one who responded to that flyer at all, you know? An applicant pool of one. But… I’m glad I did it. I’m glad to be here with you. And I’m really grateful to whoever picked me.” Ritsuka sat back, happy to have said it, but a little unsettled from talking about himself so much.

Everyone was quiet for a moment or two.

Benkei broke the silence by standing up. He bowed deeply to Ritsuka, and said, “We are grateful to them as well, for their help bringing you here. And I am grateful to you, Lord Fujimaru, for being here with us, and for sharing with us something so close to your heart. To be so open with one’s companions… is often difficult.” His weathered face creased into an earnest smile. “I understand that the tales of Benkei are well-known to you, but perhaps I will find something to share that is less legend and more me.”

Ritsuka smiled, pleased and a little embarrassed. “Uh, thanks. I’d like that.”

Benkei gave Ushi a sidelong glance and let his smile grow broad and relaxed. “Good! I feel quite invigorated by this chat, so I shall take my leave and consider stories that might interest you while I keep watch.” Ignoring the apprehensive look Ushi shot him, he raised his hand in a reassuring benediction, eyes twinkling. “Abhaya. Lord Yoshitsune, Master, take your ease! Musashibou Benkei shall allow nothing to come near this night.” He bowed very low before striding off. Ushi’s glare followed him off into the woods.

Watching him go, Ritsuka said, “You know, I still don’t quite know what to think of him.”

“I believe I mentioned ‘wretched overgrown monkey’ a little while ago,” she said, her voice clipped.

“Wow.” Ritsuka leaned back. He had no idea what was going on between the two Servants, but he wasn’t sure how much of his business it was. “Seems a little harsh after he volunteered for watch duty.”

“I specifically told him I didn’t want to be left… I mean, that I wanted him to be part of this conversation when we sought you out.” Ushi sighed in irritation. ”And he is impertinent. I would rather not talk about him.”

Apparently how much of his business it was was none. “Sure, consider the subject dropped.”

“Um.” After a moment, Ushi shifted cautiously to face him, a complicated look on her face. “He did speak for us both when he thanked you, though. That was not the sort of story I’d expected to hear.”

“What kind of story did you expect?”

“Something about your friends, or a humorous escapade, my lord,” Ushi said. “The sort of story told over drinks, or as a boast.”

Ritsuka ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, thinking about his response. “I guess…  I wanted to tell you something that mattered? We’re not class buddies, we’re fighting a war together. I’ve stopped counting the number of times you’ve saved my life. And I think you’re pretty amazing - uh, both of you, I mean.” He coughed. That had come out not quite like he intended.

She tilted her head, smiling as if not quite sure what he meant. Fair enough, he wasn’t completely sure either. He went on quickly. “You know, I used to pretend to be you when I was a little kid,” he said. “I’d climb up onto the railing of the little pond bridge at the park, and I’d wave a stick around and pretend it was Gojo Bridge and I was you, beating the crap out of Benkei.”

Ushi gave him a delighted look and a quick crow of laughter that seemed a little too loud for the quiet of the woods. Both of them glanced around surreptitiously, and she scooted a little closer and leaned in. “Truly, my lord?” she asked, more quietly.

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned in in return and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I always decided I’d won, too.”

A dose of smugness was added to her delight. “That’s fitting.”

He chuckled. “I bet you never missed your landing and ended up face to face with a bunch of koi.”

She laughed again, more quietly this time. “So it was Ushiwakamaru who was your hero, not Yoshitsune?”

“Yeah. I guess I like adventure stories better than war stories.” It was a shame Chaldea’s story was caught between the two, but given the company he was keeping, maybe that was appropriate.

Ushi looked down. “I am glad that I was summoned as I am now, though I fear Yoshitsune would be a better Servant. A Saber, probably, and a strong one too. Yet…” She hesitated. “I know who I… who she was then. A stone-hearted killer who took little joy in her victories. She could never have taken the advice I gave you earlier about relaxing. By the end, she’d nearly forgotten how to smile at all.” She shook her head. “I do not wish to forget again.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” he said, trying to be casual about it. Dangerous Ushi didn’t sound like a problem to him, but Deeply Unhappy Ushi wasn’t something he wanted to experience. “I’d rather have you here than some joyless super-powerful Saber, and she probably wouldn’t get along with me anyway.”

“...Thank you.” She ducked her head for a moment, then glanced at him. “After hearing your story, my lord, I would rather have you here than another so-called ‘ordinary person.’ I think you were meant to be here, with us.”

“Nah, I think anyone else would do about as well in my shoes. I’m no Chosen One, I’m just... the Last Paperclip of Humanity.”

Ushi blinked at him. “The last what?”

Ritsuka sat back and folded his hands behind his head. “Paperclip. Mass-produced, functionally identical to all the other paperclips, only there to hold together all the actually interesting stuff. Any paperclip could do it.” He gave a self-deprecating smirk. “It’s just that someone swiped all the paperclips and burned down the paperclip factory, and I was the one they found in Dr. Roman’s pocket with the spare change.”

She gave him a stern look. “To talk about yourself like that is ill-befitting my lord. You are not just anyone. You are the Master of Chaldea, conqueror of four Singularities, and the sworn lord of the last of the Genji. Have some pride!”

Ritsuka waved his hands as if to deflect the words. “Hey, I’m proud of what we’ve done! It’s hard and scary and amazing stuff, and I’m even proud I’m the one who’s here doing it, really! I just don’t think it’s about me being special or talented or… some sort of Chosen One, you know? I’m not a Newtype, I just fell into the cockpit anyway.”

She gave him a look he’d gotten before, mostly from his sister. “I think I understand what you mean, my lord,” Ushi said dryly, “but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“That’s cool, most people wouldn’t.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I’m not very experienced at this whole lording business, so If it bothers you when I don’t behave appropriately, you’re going to have to help me figure out how to do it.”

Ushi looked mildly scandalized. “It would be improper to instruct my lord on the manner in which to be my lord.”

Ritsuka smiled. “C’mon, everything I know about that sort of thing is from chanbara movies or old legends! I just want to know what you think a lord should do.” He shrugged in mock helplessness. “Who else should I ask? Benkei?”

From her look of dismay, that seemed to strike a nerve. She seemed on the verge of objecting strenuously, then pursed her lips in sudden thought. “Hm. If I accept, do you promise not to ask him?”

“Sure, I promise.”

“Then I accept. My first advice on being a proper lord is that you should consider accepting the heads of your fallen enemies as tribute.”

Alarm bells started going off in Ritsuka’s head. “Nope!” he said quickly.

Matter-of-factly, she asked, “Now, my lord, I understand it’s not what you’re used to, but if you don’t expose yourself to something, how do you expect to become comfortable with it?” She gave him a smug look, as if to indicate she’d clearly won the argument then and there.

He frowned at her. “Denied.”

“That’s a shame. You can’t take even the first advice I give you? In that case, I must resign as your advisor on lordly behavior,” she said cheerfully.

Ritsuka opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. “Wait, are you teasing me?”

She let out a hint of the smile she’d been trying to suppress, eyes crinkling with humor. “Perhaps a little, my lord.”

He relaxed and chuckled in return. It was gratifying to see her loosening up a little around him. “I guess that’s a thing friends do,” he said.

When her smile came out full force, she seemed as surprised as he was by its genuine warmth. “I suppose it is,” she said.

Chapter Text

The Holy Land, August 2, 2018

“I’ve always heard that there was a harsh beauty in far and barren places,” Jing Ke said, frowning. “Even in my day, there were enough odes to the empty wastes to fill a dozen volumes of terrible poetry and maybe a few pages of good ones. But this,” she grumbled, waving the bottle in her hand broadly at the blasted wasteland around them, “makes the whole genre seem like a terrible mistake.”

Looking around, Ushiwakamaru agreed with her friend’s assessment. The Pharaoh’s dunes had been bad enough, but this new domain outside his was ruined beyond anything she could have imagined. The land looked dead, cracked and fissured where it wasn’t dotted with enormous craters. The moon would have been more hospitable. Even in the middle of a cloudless night, the stars seemed muted, and nothing moved except the wind and the two Servants standing watch while their lord and companions slept. “Perhaps this is just a strikingly ugly example,” she offered.

Jing Ke nodded in consideration. “It makes me glad I brought something to drink,” she said, and a long pull from her bottle.

“You’re always glad for that,” Ushi pointed out.

“No words have ever been truer.”

“And you’re taking more than your share. I didn’t get more than a couple of mouthfuls before you took it back,” Ushi complained. Her friend wasn’t usually so stingy.

“I brought it, my share’s whatever I say it is.” Jing Ke twirled the bottle on one fingertip, letting not a drop splash out. “Besides, I’m only drinking enough to keep up with you! It’d be uncompanionable for me to be sober while you’re already tipsy. I can’t help it if you’re a lightweight.”

Ushi felt her brow furrow in irritation. “I am not a lightweight.”

The Assassin smiled indulgently. “Ushiwaka, my friend, you are the original easily-carried burden.” She paused and took a quick drink. “Don’t feel bad. My sisters could drink me under any table you could find.”

“I’m surprised to hear that there’s anyone who could keep up with you.” Ushi made a grabbing motion at the bottle, and Jing Ke handed it over with a look of exaggerated loss, rolling the stopper back and forth across the back of her other hand like a charlatan’s trick. She took a swallow, grateful for the bite and the sweetness of the plum wine that cleared her throat of the dry dust that seemed to be this land’s only product.

Jing Ke held a hand out, but Ushi moved to raise the bottle to her lips again. “Hey, no more. Hey!” the Assassin said, and snatched at the bottle, but Ushi had anticipated it and leaned back out of the way, fending her friend off with one foot. Closing her eyes, she tilted the bottle over her mouth again, and waited.

And waited. Nothing reached her lips.

Opening her eyes, she found Jing Ke’s sandal in front of her face, toeing the stopper into place in the bottle’s mouth. Jing Ke shot a warning glare past her foot, poised as easily on one foot as Ushi was. “There is no way in any of the hundred thousand little hells that you are drinking the rest of that.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in one,” Ushi retorted, refusing to bend.

Without losing her balance in the slightest, Jing Ke twisted to look this way and that at the gods-forsaken landscape. “Are you sure about that?”

When Ushi opened her mouth to reply, the Assassin flexed her leg and smoothly kicked the bottle up and out of Ushi’s hands. Stopper and all, the bottle flipped end over end as it flew up and then back down. Both of them braced to catch it, eyeing each other as much as the bottle. Jing Ke moved first, leaping lightly up off the ground to grab it, but Ushi flickered forward with a shukuchi step, blurring past to snatching the bottle away just before Jing Ke touched down.

A flick of Ushi’s fingertip sent the stopper spinning out of the bottle’s mouth and off into the wastes with a whine like a bullet. Try and cork it now , she thought, only to find that Jing Ke had closed in while she was congratulating herself, smooth and silent, and gotten a hand on the bottle anyway. The Assassin pulled, and Ushi pulled back, starting a brief, superhuman tug-of-war. Before either of them could gain the upper hand, the bottle gave a faint cracking sound, and they froze. As one, they looked at it, and then glared at each other across it.

Ushi didn’t quite dare to start pulling again. It was one thing to wrestle your friend for their booze, and another to be so greedy for it that neither of you got the chance to drink it. She decided to try words again, on the off chance they’d accomplish anything useful. “Just let me have this. I know you have another one.”

Jing Ke shook her head. “I’m saving that one for later. Do you know how hard it’d be to find rice wine out here? I don’t think they have rice. I don’t even think they have crops.”

“I know, and that’s why I want some ,” Ushi snapped, twisting at the bottle with a subtle motion she’d hoped would pop it free. She felt a moment of triumph when it slipped toward her, but Jing Ke moved like lightning, whipping the end of her sash around the bottle and pulling it taut to keep it suspended between them. Ushi locked eyes with her friend again, not backing down.

Begrudgingly, Jing Ke said, “Okay. One more swallow.”

“As long as you give it back afterward.”

“I meant one more for you, you brigand.”

Brigand, was it? “A friend wouldn’t try to leave me with so little,” Ushi snapped, narrowing her eyes, “and an enemy wouldn’t dare.”

Jing Ke matched her look, letting a hint of violent intent show. “Is that how it is?”

Ushi didn’t flinch. “It is.” She really wanted this drink, and if you were going to steal from another predator you couldn’t show weakness in front of them. Besides, if Jing Ke seemed the least bit threatening, it was on purpose, which meant this was for show. Probably. She hoped. Jing Ke was her friend, but getting on her bad side for real was a terrible idea.

A gust of wind swirled dust between them. Neither of them moved a muscle.

“Why do you want this so badly?”

Ushi let out a long, annoyed breath. She had been hoping to be more subtle about bringing it up, but…. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Wait, you need a drink to talk about it?” Jing Ke seemed dubious.

“No! It’s just…” Ushi glared at the bottle as if it was the source of her trouble. “...Yes.”

Jing Ke regarded her silently long enough to make her sweat before saying, “Half of what’s left.”

“Just let me -” Ushi started.

“Don’t you think it’s rude when a friend becomes an imposition?”

“...Very well. Half.”

With a sigh, Jing Ke flicked her sash from around the jar. “Also, fair warning, if you start ranting about how you’re going to fix Perseus’s mistake and behead the other two Gorgons, like you did last time you got smashed, I’m going to stuff you in the trunk of da Vinci’s silly buggy with all the bedding on top of you so no one hears you. Friends don’t let friends telegraph their kills.”

Ushi nodded gratefully. It was good to have reasonable people around. “I’d rather not think about them right now, anyway.” She took another drink, less guarded this time, and sighed her satisfaction as she felt the alcohol kicking in. “Oh. Hey, this stuff is pretty strong, isn’t it?”

Winding her sash back around her waist, Jing Ke shook her head and smiled. “No.”

Ushi made a dismissive sound and took a longer drink.

Jing Ke found a suitable patch of bare rock, swept the dust away as best she could, and sat down. “So what’s the trouble?”

Ushi sighed. “Give me a minute.” She raised the bottle to her lips again.

“You’re really going to hog the wine and make me wait?” Jing Ke gave a long-suffering look and said, “It’s Master, isn’t it?” Caught mid-drink, Ushi spluttered, her cheeks going redder as she covered her mouth. Jing Ke’s look mixed irritation and amusement. “Thought so. Also, If you waste that wine after all the crap you gave me, I will end you.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s not hard to figure out when you keep looking at him that way.

“How do I look at him?”

“Like you didn’t realize something was wrong until seeing him fixed it.” Ushi did something between ducking her head and nodding. That was a bit how it felt, sometimes. Jing Ke eyed her and kept probing. “If you know what’s going on, why come to me?”

That question had a simple answer, at least. “You’re sensible, you can keep a secret, and you have a sufficient supply of alcohol. Excellent qualifications, if you ask me.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Second question. What do you see in Master, anyway?”

That was a harder question to answer. Ushi wiped her mouth free of wine and blown grit - damn this place anyway - and shook her head. “From what I’ve -” she stopped herself from saying ‘seen’ before she could accidentally reveal that she’d dreamed Ritsuka’s past, and went on, “- what I’ve heard, this modern age is kind, and he should be too soft for this. But he has a great deal of tenacity when things go wrong. He’s the kind of person who’s at his best when he’s out of his depth, and that’s when one needs to be at one’s best, isn’t it?”

“True,” Jing Ke said, with clear approval. “If Master had been with me in Qin, I’d bet he wouldn’t have panicked in the clutch like that pissant Wuyang. Maybe the end of the world’s the right setting to show him off.”

“But mostly he makes me feel -“ Ushi stopped, unsure how to put it into words.

“Horny,” Jing Ke supplied.

“No!” Ushi snapped, scandalized.

“Sure he does.”Jing Ke scoffed.

“Why did I come to you with this?” This was not how she had imagined this conversation going. “That’s not what I’m talking about! Do you really have to bring up such matters when I’m talking about his good qualities?”

Jing Ke laughed. “Making you horny is a good quality in a potential lover. Defining, even.”

Grimacing, Ushi said, “That’s not what he mostly makes me feel.”

“But he does -“

“Gods and devils, yes, all right? Yes. I’m not about to sneak into his room at night and accost him like some snake , but sometimes I want to, I don’t know, push him up against a wall and just… see what happens.” Past the warmth of the wine, Ushi felt her cheeks heating up; she was perfectly aware those thoughts were inappropriate, even if it sometimes seemed they were shared among a significant portion of Chaldea’s Servants. “Does that answer your question?”

Jing Ke’s amused look said volumes. “At least you’re not in denial about it. Carry on.”

“Now I don’t even remember where I was,” Ushi complained, mostly for complaining’s sake.

“Horny.”

“Before that!”

“He mostly makes you feel…?” Jing Ke reminded her.

Ushi went with the first word that came to mind. “Safe.”

Jing Ke squinted at her, still amused. “You’ve got all the self-preservation instincts of a wolverine. You’d fight the sun itself if it drew a sword on you. Where does ‘safe’ come into it?”

Ushi waved her hand dismissively, and the barren world tilted a little around her. “Look, when I said ‘safe’, I didn’t mean safe,” she tried to explain. “Just bear with me.”

“Oh, I’m trying.”

“I mean…” Ushi caught her balance, forced the world to stop moving, and thought about it - or tried to, at least. The feelings were there, bubbling up to the surface with the headiness of the wine, but the right words were harder to grasp. “I don’t think he’s going to keep me safe… not safe from violence.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been worried about violence. Well before she’d arrived at Kurama Temple, certainly. “Ritsuka’s not going to protect me from being stabbed, that would be ridiculous. But there’s worse things than being stabbed, or, or falling off a cliff, not that that would be enough to kill me, ha.”

Jing Ke cut off her rambling. “What’s he going to save you from, then?”

“I… I don’t know.” She was already dead. What was there even to save her from, these days? And why did she still feel like she wanted it? And why from him, when it was practically her job to keep him safe?

“Well, if you figure it out, let me know. Hey, a quick question.”

Distracted by her own thoughts, Ushi just grunted. “Hm?”

Jing Ke gave her a knowing look. “Do you always call Master by his familiar name, or just when you’re drunk and talking about his quote ‘good qualities’ unquote?”

Ushi froze, all thoughts of what kind of safety she was looking for scattered in an instant. “Uh… damn it!” She had called him ‘Ritsuka’ out loud, hadn’t she? She’d thought she could keep that inside her head where it belonged.

“Ahaha!” Jing Ke cackled, rocking back on her seat. “I was so very wrong, Ushiwaka. It was definitely worth letting you share the wine.”

Ushi sputtered. “It - it doesn’t matter! It would be inappropriate for me to say anything, and he’s never acted like he thinks of me as more than a friend.”

Jing Ke made a tch sound. “That boy could be crying out for you in his sleep, and he’d never say word one unless you made it clear you wanted him to. Have you seen how he overthinks things? He probably thinks it’d be unfair to you. He knows if he told you to jump you’d feel bad that you had to come down eventually.”

“He’s your Master too.” Ushi pointed aggressively with the hand holding the bottle, sloshing it around. “We all jump when he says to.”

“Careful with the wine!” Jing Ke moved as if to catch it if it should slip out of her grasp - as if she’d be so sloppy. “Ushiwaka, most of us call him ‘Master’ because we know it’s code for ‘fragile, handle with care’. You, on the other hand, call him ‘my lord’.”

“It’s the appropriate, what do you call it, mode of address for a samurai's lord!”

“If you say so. But Master isn’t the sort who’d want affection he thought was obligatory. He’d want it to be… Hm, what’s the right word? ‘Honest’, maybe?”

That… actually had not occurred to her. Ushi frowned, because it was plausible and troublesome, and also because she really didn’t want to admit Jing Ke had a point. “Then what am I to do? I would simply like to know if he has any interest, that’s all. Without engaging in some ridiculous competition for his affections.” If what she was was not what he wanted, then she wouldn’t demean herself scrambling to make up for it. A sword she could be, or a faithful hound, if that’s what he needed, but she would not be a lapdog.

“Fawning over him doesn’t seem to be winning anyone else points, that’s for sure.”

Ushi sat down next to her friend and looked out over the empty desert. The chill of the night seemed to seep a little into her. “I am not sure I should even be considering this.”

“Why not? I know you weren’t the least bit chaste the first time around.”

She shook her head slowly. The wine was briefly bitter on her tongue. “When everyone around you comes to a bad end, one after another, it’s easy to see what they had in common.”

“Yeah. Your brother,” Jing Ke said flatly.

“That… That’s not…” Ushi stammered. It must have been the wine that prevented her from mustering a response to such a wrongheaded statement. That was the only possible explanation.

“Did I ever tell you about how I died?” Jing Ke asked abruptly.

Coming back to herself. Ushi gave Jing Ke an uncertain look. “I know you nearly killed Shi Huangdi, that’s all.”

“Hey, don’t call him that propagandist horsecrap. Ying Zheng was a little king with big ideas, that’s all.” Jing Ke scowled as she badmouthed her old nemesis. She plucked the bottle of plum wine out of Ushi’s hands and took a long drink. When she was done, she exhaled with satisfaction and turned to look Ushi dead in the eyes. “”Listen. The day I set out to kill that bastard, I swore that until the deed was done, I would exist only for that kill. I gave everything I was over to that oath, my life, my soul. And do you know what happened?”

She didn’t give Ushi a second to respond. “I failed! I failed because some overblown court physician threw a satchel at me, can you believe it? Gave the king just enough time to get his sword out. So I bled out there in his throne room, cursing him with every foul name I knew because it was all I could do. That was the last thing I ever saw, and the first thing I remembered when Master summoned me.”

The Assassin took another, shorter swig, then went on, biting off each word. “When I realized that the only reason I was remembered at all was because Zheng won, because he got everyone to actually call him Emperor, it nearly killed me all over again. So I swore to myself that my oath still held, that my soul was only for killing. I’d be Master’s hidden blade, waiting to strike the head off of whatever serpent he needed brought down.”

Jing Ke gave Ushi a dangerous-looking smirk. “If it comes to it, whatever lord or king or Emperor stands in Master’s way, they’ll be removed, as sure as the sun goes down. But you know…” Her shoulders relaxed. “I’ve done things here that have nothing to do with a well-placed knife. I’ve laughed with Master. I’ve watched him get embarrassed when I offer him a drink. Taught him a little about poetry. I’ve made friends here. Even if I never get another chance, I can be more than just someone who once came really close to killing a tyrant.”

She pushed the bottle back into Ushi’s hands with some finality. “And you can be more than just someone who won all your battles and lost everything else.”

Ushi didn’t respond. Whether it was the wine or her own tumultuous heart, she didn’t know what to say. It couldn’t be as simple as her friend made it out to be. Could it? “Do you think he’s interested?”

Her friend pursed her lips and considered. “It’s not impossible. You know that little storytelling session of his you told me about? Our Master could be the kind of person who would reveal something heartfelt and private as a substitute for just flirting like a regular person.” She gave Ushi a supportive smile. “Or maybe he just wanted to get it off his chest! I don’t know. But never sweat the small stuff, you know? This is only as big an issue as you think it is. You can just let it go if it’s not worth it. So, is this important to you, or not?”

“It is. At least to find out.” Ushi’s response was quiet but immediate. She was a little surprised at how quickly she could answer that one, but she supposed she wouldn’t be at such a loss if it weren’t important.

The hand at her shoulder squeezed tight. “Well, we might be stuck in this desert for a long time. Maybe even long enough for you to spit it out, and for him to get a hint. You don’t have to throw yourself at him, just talk to him. At least then you won’t have to wonder anymore.”

“...All right. All right, I will.” She took a final gulp of wine and let out a sharp breath. Maybe it was just the liquor talking - she was sure hearing it - but right now, it felt like a gamble she was willing to take. A smile crept up over her face. “It might even be fun.”

“Flirting is supposed to be fun!” A teasing smile flashed across Jing Ke’s face. “If you need any pointers, just ask.”

 It was Ushi’s turn to scoff. “I have managed to flirt before, and quite successfully at that.”

Jing Ke chuckled. “That’s why I asked. Not to brag, but I am something of a poet, and I heard about your previous efforts, so if you need a hand - ”

Ushi gritted her teeth, and the bottle shattered in her clenched fist. “Benkei!”

“No! My wine!”

Chapter Text

The Holy Land, August 19, 2018

Crouched at Ritsuka’s side, Ushi stuck her head out over the dune and glared at the enormous, winged figures prowling the valley below. They were grand and terrible and, most of all, numerous. More than thirty and fewer than fifty was all she could tell before Ritsuka pulled her back down with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Much more cautiously than she had, he peered over the top of the dune and made a face at what he saw. “Damn, that is a lot of sphinxes.”

On Ritsuka’s other side, Mash nodded. “The Atlas Institute’s right in the middle of them, too.”

From the other side of the dune, a voice roared, half-human, half something else, drowning out their quiet voices. A second later, a dozen more joined it, and then another dozen, until the sand atop the dune was trembling and Ritsuka had to clap his hands over his ears.

When it was done, he slowly pulled his hands back down. “Well… we can’t wait around here until they get bored. Assuming they get bored. Anybody have any ideas?” Ritsuka glanced around the gathering of Servants.

“Cut our way through,” Ushi said immediately. It was the obvious solution, and she wasn’t sure why it seemed to garner so many flat looks. 

“Our friend Hundred Personas notwithstanding, there’s at least two of them for each of us,” Bedivere noted, polite as usual. “Those seem like desperate odds.”

“We’ve beaten desperate odds before. I can take point. If we are swift -” Ushi began.

“No!” Ritsuka said abruptly. “We’ve lost enough people lately.” The words weren’t quite a reprimand, but they hit Ushi like one. “Da Vinci… She would have known how to get past these things. Some kind of magical decoy, something. It’s just too risky without a plan.” He tried not to let his head drop.

Ushi dropped her eyes and swallowed her objections. They’d only escaped Lancelot weeks ago because of da Vinci’s sacrifice. She’d gone out in dazzling glory, protecting her comrades with a smile on her face, very much the way Ushi hoped she’d die this time around. She’d had enough and more than enough of comrades dying for her.

“Let’s just…” Ritsuka shook his head, continuing. “Let’s just pull back and rest for a bit. We’ll come up with something.” He had to see the other Servants giving each other glances at that, but none of them objected.

With Ritsuka in the lead, the group eased back down the slope without disturbing the huge Phantasmals, and trudged away from both the sphinxes and their destination. The Hashishin fanned out into the sands to keep watch, and the rest of the group began quietly - or in Sanzang’s case, boisterously - throwing around ideas for bypassing the sphinxes. Ritsuka pulled ahead a little ways, still looking troubled.

She looked back at the group as she stuck close to her lord. With the Hashishin out of sight, Mash and Bedivere chatting like old friends, and everyone else talking about sphinx this and sphinx that… This was the closest she’d gotten to a semi-private moment with RItsuka for weeks, and Jing Ke had threatened that if Ushi didn’t at least try something soon, she’d start hinting in earshot of him.

As she was thinking that, Jing Ke looked up from trying to talk Sanzang out of trying to feed the sphinxes Touta’s rice, and gave her a covert thumbs-up.

Argh. Friends.

But still. She shouldn’t need a goad. She should seize the moment! She drew in a breath, and wIth a few quick steps, trotted out in front of Ritsuka. Walking backwards, hands tucked deferentially behind her waist, she leaned over to look at his downcast face. “My lord?” she asked. That was usually a good place to start.

“What -” He looked up, startled, then gave a wan smile. “We’re not charging the sphinxes, Ushi.”

Ushi still held that her idea was the best. In the end, it would all come down to a race, a fight, or both, and how they got there wasn’t really a concern for her. “Sometimes a clever plan is needed, but against sphinxes? We’re more than a match for them.”

Some humor crept into his eyes. “I’m glad your confidence never falters, at least.”

“Confidence is always key, my lord. We will not get anywhere by hesitating,” she replied, struggling not to show her irritation at the irony. Jing Ke might be laughing even now. Or perhaps facepalming. Suddenly determined to brighten his mood, she grinned back at him. “Their heads would make impressive trophies, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes at her even as his smile grew. “Seriously, where would I even put one?” A snrk escaped him. “I really don’t want any heads, but it’d almost be worth it just to see what Dr. Roman would say.”

She laughed, both at the thought and at her own success. Mission accomplished! Still walking backwards, she gave a bow. “I am here to help, my lord.”

“Were you just trying to brighten my day, or was there something else?”

“Ah…” She blinked and straightened up, suddenly hesitant. “There was something I wished to speak to you about, but it seems now is not the time, for any number of reasons.”

He gave a concerned look. “If there’s a problem…”

“No! There’s no problem!” Ushi wasn’t sure what there was, exactly, but she certainly hoped it wasn’t a problem. “Er, neither is it urgent, my lord. It can wait.”

Ritsuka shrugged. “I’m too anxious to come up with clever solutions right now. If you’ve got something that’ll take my mind off of the situation, fire away.”

Well, there was a good chance it would do that, Ushi supposed. This wasn’t exactly the kind of flirtation she’d intended, but sometimes you just had to take what you could get. She swallowed, and managed a faint smile. “In that case, my lord… I wanted to ask you if -”

With no warning whatsoever, one of Hassan of the Hundred Personas’s bodies appeared beside them - the spokeswoman with the long black hair and the skull mask. Before Ushi could even give her a glare for interrupting, she said, “We are found.” One dark-skinned arm pointed in the direction opposite the valley of sphinxes. “The Knight of the Lake has returned.”

They turned to look at the horizon, where a cloud of dust was approaching, too low and dense to be weather. Metal glinted in the desert sun within it. A lot of metal.

Ushi glared at the speck in blue and silver leading them. A phrase Ritsuka sometimes used came to mind; it seemed to fit her feelings at that moment.

God dammit, Lancelot.

* * *

“We’ve got to gather back up. The only way out now is through the sphinxes,” Ritsuka said. Ushi spared him a glance as she wiped Enforcer Knight blood from her blade. When things were dire was when he looked the most present - as if it was only in a crisis that he could get out of his own head. He was clearly afraid, and even more clearly ignoring it. It would be nice, she thought, to see him look that way without the fear. Especially if it was at her. A moment later, she reminded herself that this was not the time, and turned her attention back to the battle.

The Enforcer Knights had dismounted to attack, presumably because warhorses were hard to come by, and there was no easier way to be made to look like complete fools than to try to charge a host of warriors on untrained horses. That had slowed their advance somewhat, but it didn’t change that there were hundreds of them, all Divinely-enhanced.

And they had Lancelot.

As she watched, the knight in silver and blue nearly bisected Bedivere and beat back half a dozen Hundred Personas clones in as many seconds. Bedivere’s face grew paler and his silver arm shone brighter and brighter as he fought, but even when he matched the power of Lancelot’s blows, he couldn’t land a clean hit. Lancelot’s advance was nearly as unstoppable as Hercules’ pursuit had been in Okeanos, but instead of divine strength, all the knight needed was his incredible skill.  He was simply outfighting everyone who faced him.

It made Ushi’s sword hand itch with eagerness. The tall knight wasn’t the worst of his order; that distinction went to that butcher of a musician. But if there was one warrior here she longed to match herself against, it was him. Lancelot du Lac was a legend even on the Throne, not for impossible strength or fabulous deeds, but for his pure prowess as a warrior.

Watching the same thing, Ritsuka frowned. “They’re not going to be able to hold him,” he said tersely.

“Leave it to me.” She dropped her hand to her sword and strode toward their attackers, a smile on her face. “Watch me, my lor-“

“Wait!” She heard Ritsuka yell and caught herself after the first step. Ritsuka gave her a dismayed look, his focus broken. “Ushi, that’s Lancelot du Lac. He’s supposed to be literally unbeatable, right?” Mash had given everyone a crash course in Arthurian legend, and she’d driven home his superlative prowess with almost as much fervor as she’d complained of his character flaws.

Ushi reined in her impatience and looked Ritsuka in the eyes. “I know his story, my lord. An unbeatable prodigy with a legendary blade. Nobly born, then exiled and raised by a nature spirit to be the greatest warrior of his era.” She tilted her head and gave him a pointed smile. “His tale is not the only such one.”

Ritsuka opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, frowning. After a moment, he said, more thoughtfully, “I guess that would sound familiar to you, wouldn’t it?” He shifted his gaze pensively between her and the marching knights.

She could have told him that they owed Lancelot for da Vinci’s death, but she recoiled inside when she imagined the hurt on his face. Besides, an end like da Vinci’s shouldn’t be fodder for arguments. Instead, she said in a jesting manner, “If Mash and Sir Mordred back in London have told the truth, and his weakness truly is beautiful women, I’ll have the upper hand. Or have you forgotten my infamous seduction technique?”

Despite himself, Ritsuka barked a startled, weary laugh. “I don’t think I could forget that.” He still hesitated, looking between her, the single remaining stroke of his Command Seal, and the oncoming enemy.

I can do this, she wanted to tell him. Trust me. Please. Instead of saying it out loud, Ushi bit her tongue and waited. If her lord didn’t trust her to fight for him, then what good was she?

He drew in a long breath, giving her a look like he’d heard her anyway. Then his expression firmed, and he nodded. ”Okay. You know there’s no one else to back you up, there’s just too many of the damn Enforcers, but we’ve got to regroup. Buy us some time, and don’t get caught. When we make a break for it, get back here as fast as you can.”

Yes! She put all her pride and gratitude into an eager grin. “Shall I bring back his head when I do?”

He shook his head with a reluctant smile. “You’re a god damn menace.” The smile fell away, leaving a worried and serious face. There was a quiet intensity to his voice when he said, “I don’t care about his head, Ushi. Bring back your own. That’s a command, okay?”

“My lord, I -” Warmth blossomed in her chest even as her grin faltered in surprise. He wasn’t worried she’d fail him. He was worried for her. Filled with sudden, joyful determination, she bowed and said, as earnestly as she could, “I won’t fail you, my lord.”

The corners of his mouth curved back up, just a little, and a hint of amusement glinted in his eyes. “Then kick his ass.”

His send-off left a fierce grin on her face as she raced up the dunes, throwing a plume of sand behind her. She didn’t hear her lord call Bedivere back over the wind of her passage. Up ahead, the Enforcer Knights advanced relentlessly, but she only had eyes for their leader. At the top of the last dune before the enemy, she paused. The only thing keeping him in the fight seemed to be Lancelot’s reluctance to strike a deadly blow against him.

Usumidori sang softly in her hand as she drew it, letting it catch the sunlight. She filled her lungs and cried, “Lancelot du Lac! I am Ushiwakamaru of the Genji, Rider of Chaldea, and my lord has charged me with your defeat! Face me, Servant of the Lion King!” Lancelot’s dark eyes swung to her, and he shifted his feet to meet her charge, which was all the answer she needed. Without waiting for a further response, she leaned into a sprint, swift as an arrow’s flight.

Watch me, my lord.

In the moments it took Bedivere to scramble back towards her lord, she reached Lancelot. Usumidori’s curve slipped around his first parry, and the only thing that saved his eye was a lightning-quick twitch of his head. Momentum carried her past, and she spun, cutting off his counterattack with a flurry of blows that rang against his golden blade so fast it sounded like a single strike. His defense was immaculate, and the moment she paused, he flicked his wrists and cut upwards, then nearly took her arm off as she slid aside. She slipped beside him with a shukuchi step that flashed across the distance, but her cut at his neck failed to draw blood when he twisted and parried over his shoulder.

So much for a quick head to present to her lord. Oh, well, chances were he wouldn’t have appreciated it. One day, maybe!

Arondight blurred toward her, and instinct told her not to parry - she didn’t doubt Usumidori, old friend, but the solidity of his parries told her his Strength was far beyond hers and a solid parry would swat her aside in a most undignified way. She slipped underneath the blow instead, and her feet flexed in the way Kiichi had drilled into her, flicking herself backwards out of range of his follow-up.

Lancelot strode forward, and she went to meet him, three steps to his one. She couldn’t keep a warrior like him busy if she disengaged completely - which made her Eight-Boat Leap mostly useless. A shame she had such a hard time accessing the other aspects of her Noble Phantasm as a Rider. Dozens of strikes and counterstrikes flickered between them as she darted around him, attacking from every angle she could manage, skipping away in the moments between only to re-engage before either of them could take a breath.

He gave as good as he got, keeping her blade from his armor but unable to catch her. She’d never faced a challenge quite like this, neither alive nor as a Servant. The opportunity to face a warrior who truly challenged her was such a rare thing that it had to be treasured. The knight’s swordsmanship was immaculate, every stroke clean and swift, each parry perfect. Lancelot didn’t need his sovereign’s Gift to be head and shoulders above other warriors; he was a virtuoso of the blade, born to wield a sword.

Fortunately, so was she.

Still, she was getting nowhere with her hit-and-run tactics. If she couldn’t afford to stay outside his reach, she’d simply have to get inside it and stay there.

Ushi kicked back from the clash of blades, landed in a crouch, and uncoiled into a lunge no human could have tracked with their eyes. Lancelot stepped aside and cut at where she’d be a fraction of a second later, but she’d dug her geta in to slow herself and Arondight’s bright arc sheared the air in front of her face instead of cleaving through her neck. From only a pace away, well within the measure of his blade, she looked up from her half-crouch and had the satisfaction of seeing Lancelot’s eyes narrow just a little in realization of his predicament.

With a wordless warcry, she launched an all-out attack. Usumidori gleamed like the sun through spring leaves as it flickered through dozens of cuts in a handful of seconds. As Lancelot fell back, she matched step and continued to rain blows on him. She held nothing back. Every strike was aimed to cripple or kill - eyes, throat, wrists, joints, anywhere her blade might slip past his heavy armor. 

Lancelot du Lac hunkered behind his armor and Arondight’s broad blade and weathered her storm. This close, he didn’t have the angle or speed to deflect every strike, but instinct or training led him to unerringly intercept the necessary ones. The only strikes he allowed past were the ones he could turn against his armor. She left scores on his pauldrons and breastplate and gashes in his vambraces, but she could not quite manage to draw blood.

As she searched for a way past his defense, Lancelot pivoted at the waist and twisted his wrists in a way that looked both awkward and completely natural. His next parry was a swift arc of faerie metal that torqued her blade out of line, somehow using the curve of her blade against her. Like a dancer in plate-and-mail, he continued the motion, bringing Arondight around in a shining circle toward her waist. Ushi vaulted off the ground and let Arondight pass beneath her. These Western knights were too accustomed to beating on each others’ steel shells to be used to the sort of maneuvering she favored.

But Arondight’s backswing came impossibly soon, while she was still in the air. Lancelot had smoothly swapped hands and half-sworded his blade mid-swing for a quicker reversal. She gritted her teeth and twisted desperately to catch the blade on her own. The greatsword rang like a chime as Usumidori caught it, and the force of the blow smashed her aside a good half-dozen meters. She landed on her shoulder and smoothly turned it into a tumble to her feet.

There was that Strength advantage. Once more, she almost lamented not being summoned as a Saber. Yoshitsune would give Lancelot a real challenge. But then, she wouldn’t feel that bright spark of joy when she considered Ritsuka watching her hold her own against the Knight of the Lake...

Both of them brought their weapons back to guard and regarded each other.  Lancelot lowered his blade a few handbreadths and nodded to her. “Ushiwakamaru, was it? It’s rare that I face someone with your talent.” His voice was grave and courtly. “In the name of the Lion King, I ask you to surrender. I’ll not lie; there’s only the smallest chance my King will spare you, but I would consider it a shame to kill you here.”

She met his eyes and let her disdain show on her face. His skill might be beyond reproach, but as she’d told Ritsuka, she knew his tale, and the man himself impressed her not at all. “And dishonor myself? Only a shameless cur would betray their lord’s trust.”

The dark circles under his eyes became even more prominent. Regret shadowed his eyes for a moment, before it was replaced with grim determination. “I beg your pardon, chevalier.” He raised his sword in salute. Its blade glimmered blue. “Have at you, then.”

It seemed she’d touched a nerve.

Lancelot’s lunge was even faster than before, and the only thing that saved Ushi was that she’d spun aside at the first sign of an attack. Arondight sheared through her shoulder armor but drew no blood. As the shards of her armor flew through the air, she let the impact add to her momentum and spun like a top, Usumidori lashing out. In a show of finesse that made her eyes widen, he caught the strike on the very handle of his sword, in the few centimeters separating his hands.

The knight pushed her sword away again and retaliated with a flurry of hard, two-handed swings that left no openings between them, any one of which would have killed her outright if they’d landed. In quick succession, she deflected another blow up and over her head, backpedaled away from another blindingly fast reverse cut, and was nearly cut in half when she started to duck a crosswise swing that abruptly changed direction. A desperate roll to the side was all that kept her in one piece.

She needed to seize the initiative back quickly or she was going to pay in blood for that retort. For a few heartbeats, though, it took everything she had to keep his sword from her skin. She got her feet back under her only to nearly lose them to a low sweep, then flickered away out of his reach to avoid the follow-up. The respite only lasted a moment before he came after her, moving Servant-swift, unwilling to let her move freely any longer.

Ushi wasn’t out of tricks by any means, but Lancelot was every bit as good as she was and a bit more. The knight was better armed and armored, with superior reach and strength, and beyond all of that his Divine Gift was feeding him energy every moment he fought. He was barely breathing hard. She was going to have to come up with something else.

Perhaps she’d try something nostalgic, then. It had worked against Benkei, after all, long ago.

Whirling fast enough to blow the sand aside, she met Lancelot’s advance with a series of sweeping, two-handed blows that left her overextended. It must have looked like a trap, but experienced eyes could see that despite her advantage in speed, her blade was just the tiniest bit too low to recover in time. In short, the sort of trap that could be turned on its user by a swordsman skilled enough to see it and take advantage.

The world seemed to slow to a crawl when the counterattack came. Ushi saw Lancelot’s hair flutter in the breeze of his own movement as he shifted from a two-handed parry into a horizontal thrust just as her blade moved too far down. She saw his eyes focus on her chest, just left of center, and watched Arondight’s tip glide toward her heart, following that look. It was the ideal counter at the ideal time. Lancelot’s form was perfect, an ideal of swordsmanship, like an illustration from a fencing manual come to life.

But one of the things Kiichi had taught her was that your own inspiration could take you farther than someone else’s perfection. For a tengu - or a genius - the reason to learn ‘proper’ techniques was so you could move beyond them.

Instead of trying to haul her sword back in line, she let it continue down and around, and vaulted forward into a flip over the oncoming thrust.

Each grain of sand they had kicked up during their exchange twinkled in the sunlight around her as she spun. She felt like she could track the gleam from each one as it went by, but all of them were outshone by the gleam of Arondight’s tip as it passed beneath her upside-down face, close enough that her breath could have fogged its mirror finish. One strand at a time, hairs drifted down across her field of vision as the sword’s edge shortened a lock of her bangs by a finger’s width. But the blade didn’t manage to touch her skin. Instead of a cleft skull, all she felt was the exhilaration of perfect effort, that feeling of joyful rightness that came with doing something impossibly difficult so well that it became possible.

She really did hope Ritsuka was watching this.

Then she was upright again, and her feet came down atop the edge of Lancelot’s blade as lightly as a songbird’s. She alighted so gently that even Arondight’s faerie-smithed edge didn’t split her geta . The world sprang into motion again like she was emerging from the water, and Lancelot’s eyes went wide with shock as she took a quick step forward right onto Arondight’s crossguard. Her blade, continuing the motion she’d started with her feint, had come full circle with her and was already sweeping at his unprotected neck.

Unfortunately, merely doing the impossible wasn’t quite enough to beat a warrior of Lancelot’s caliber. He swayed like a willow, back and to the side, and shoved his sword upwards, carrying her with it. The maneuver pulled his head out of her sword’s path, and turned her beheading stroke into one that merely clipped his temple. Blood and skin flew, but she’d caught nothing vital. She gathered herself to skip aside, but the knight levered Arondight up and around beneath her, and she had to leap well free before he smashed her into the ground with it.

Ushi tumbled half a dozen meters across the sand before she caught herself with a hand. She vaulted back to her feet before her momentum was spent, sword up and ready.

Lancelot was already striding towards her with Arondight raised, blood trickling into his purplish hair. “This is your last chance to yield,” he said, which nearly made her roll her eyes. Duty, honor, and competitiveness might pull her in different directions, but none of those led to surrender.

Sweat was dripping down into her eyes, but she didn’t lift a hand from her hilt to wipe it. From the corners of her eyes, she saw the hulking Enforcer Knights moving to surround her at a distance, reluctant to directly interfere without a command.

This was going to make escape problematic, she reflected. She hoped it wasn’t her time to die yet.

With a clap of thunder and a howl of wind, the sky darkened from blue to grey. Sand began to swirl as winds gusted back and forth. The Enforcers stopped and cowered as a woman’s enormous, angry face appeared in the skies, glaring down at them like the god she claimed to be. A titanic voice rang out from above. "Scoundrels! You dare to wreak your havoc here, in the most cherished land of the Sun King?"

Neither Ushiwakamaru nor Lancelot spared Nitocris’s sudden show more than a glance, but as reluctant as she was to retreat, this was clearly exactly the distraction they’d needed. It was not her time to die yet, it seemed, but it was definitely time to go.

“Neither my lord nor I shall yield today,” she declared. With another flickering step, she disengaged, blurring away from Lancelot, then leapt over the surrounding Enforcer Knights as he started to pursue. One distracted knight’s pauldron made a convenient foothold, and she sent the huge figure sprawling to the ground in front of its leader as she sprang again. She might be hard-pressed to outfight Lancelot du Lac, but outracing him was no contest at all.

In seconds, Ushi was skidding to a halt next to Ritsuka, who grabbed her shoulder practically before she’d stopped. “That was crazy! And amazing! And you - ” He leaned closer so she didn’t have to shout over the giant Nitocris head’s ranting, and his sudden proximity was a little flustering. His expression and his eyes on her were disconcertingly intense. “You scared the shit out of me! I thought - ” He stopped, shaking his head. “Why did you land on his sword?! ”

Aha! He had been watching. Ushi couldn’t help but grin. “I want a rematch, my lord,” she said, still breathing hard.

Ritsuka stared at her, then made a strange face and dropped his head forward with a groan she could barely hear. When he looked up, his worry had been replaced with consternation and a weird, reluctant happiness. “That's it!” he shouted to the whole group. “We still don’t have a plan, but we’re getting out of here before anyone else decides to have more fun than is good for them! Everybody over the big dune and down the slope, now, before those knights get their act together! Pick a sphinx that looks friendly and run towards it!” 

Most of their ragged caravan, Hashishin, Servants, and mortals alike, started to make their way down the back of the dune toward the milling, muttering sphinxes. “Dibs on the one with rainbow wings!” said Sanzang, hiking up her robes to put on a startling burst of speed.

Ritsuka turned to the few who hadn’t started moving yet. “Mash, I’m serious! Stop glaring at Lancelot and go!” Reluctantly, the Shielder tore herself away and started running. “You too, Bedivere! I swear I’ll carry you like a duffel bag if I have to!” Ah, there was that fire she liked to see in his eyes.

“What if none of the sphinxes look friendly, Master?” Jing Ke shouted, already well ahead.

“Then make friends!” he hollered back, trying to keep his balance as he half-ran, half-skidded down the slope towards the beasts.

Ushi fell into pace just behind him. Someone had to watch his back in case the knights had something up their armored sleeves, and anyway she just felt like staying close to him. She’d missed the chance for a worthy death or a glorious victory, but that was all right. It wasn’t as though she was short of opportunities for either one.

And right now, the thought of a worthy death didn’t appeal. Gratifying as it would have been to finish that fight, she found it more gratifying to know her lord was genuinely concerned for her. If her lord wanted her alive so badly, then she would be remiss if she let herself be killed, wouldn’t she?

Now she just had to find the right time to finish that conversation she’d started. It could wait, though. She thought she had a little bit of the answer she was looking for already.

* * *

The Holy Land, August 22, 2018

In his guest suite in Rameses’ temple complex, Ritsuka yawned up at the drapery of his canopy bed. There were no windows, but a series of bronze mirrors let in a gentle, relaxing glow like sunset that illuminated the lovely murals on the walls. He was pretty sure there wasn’t any way mirrors could get sunlight around that many corners without interruption. In fact, he was pretty sure the sun had gone down hours ago, but being sure didn’t make the light disappear. One of the perks of being a sun god at home, presumably.

Of course Ramesseum Tentyris had entire wings devoted to lavish visitors’ rooms. Why not? It wasn’t like it was a temple to an absentee owner like Zeus, listening to prayers from up on Olympus. It was Rameses’ temple, a literal house for a literal god on Earth, who might want to have guests over sometimes.

He had to admit it was nice of the Pharaoh to give them a pleasant place to rest after beating him up. Rameses was… well, he was a whole lot, but he was as bombastically magnanimous once he’d accepted them as he’d been bombastically dismissive before. It never stopped being frustrating that so many people felt the need to fight with Chaldea as a prerequisite to, well, fighting with them, but at this point his only response when it happened was an exasperated shrug he’d learned from Hans. Gatekeeping saving the world never stopped seeming absurd to him. “You must be this tall to pick a fight with God,” he muttered, only half joking.

At least that’s one more Demon Pillar down, or something. I think. Was that Pillar even supposed to be here? Rameses looked like he’d just called it up himself. That guy… Argh! But last Singularity there were a couple dozen of them all told, even if we only personally ran into one. I guess there could still be more here? It wasn’t a very coherent stream of thought, but it had been a very long day at the end of a very long week and his bed was very comfortable.

Anything comfortable enough to make him drowsy despite all the unanswered questions of the day and all the dramatic revelations the Sun King had dropped in their lap was a godsend, no pun intended. Maybe they could import some of these cushions back to Chaldea. He could feel the tension drain out of his shoulders and back as he settled against the mattress. His eyes slid shut.

And just like the last few times he’d tried to sleep, Ushiwakamaru’s face appeared unbidden in his mind’s eye, just as she’d looked a few days ago after her duel with Lancelot - hair disarranged, flushed from exertion and breathing hard, wearing a happy, exhilarated grin and leaning close to him with a gleam in her eye -

HIs eyes quickly opened again.

Dammit. Ritsuka sighed, thumping his head against the pile of pillows and trying to slow his suddenly racing pulse.

He was never going to get a decent night’s sleep ever again, was he?

Chapter Text

Babylonia, December 16, 2018

Whatever was rustling in the trees at the edge of the orchard was close. It hid well, but not well enough for its furtive movements to go unnoticed by Kaison as he patrolled. Anything that might threaten his Master had to be eradicated immediately. He clenched his fist around his great naginata and prepared to confront whatever lurked out of sight behind the next row of trees.

Always remember: long, bold strides. Move with certainty. Heft your naginata as if it weighed nothing - fortunately, an easy task for a Servant. And never, ever show fear. Whatever lurked there, whether it was one of Tiamat’s demonic beasts or some other Babylonian threat, Benkei would overcome it!

He strode like a titan between the trees and, with a ferocious snarl, leveled his naginata at the source of the noise. At the sudden motion, a pair of larks burst out of the palm fronds near the tip of the weapon. In a few moments, they’d taken flight, their indignant twittering mixed with the beating of their wings.

Kaison’s shoulders slumped, and he snorted a laugh at himself as he watched the birds fly off. Truly, Benkei’s legacy lives on in you. No other man could panic a harmless songbird so well.

Turning back, Kaison made his way through the trees toward his Master. Palm branches slapped at his face, but he warded them away with the haft of his polearm. Between the shade of the overgrown orange trees and date palms and the nearby water from silty but still-usable irrigation ditches, the orchard had the feeling of an oasis. If Jing Ke’s prowl through the eastern side of the orchard was as uneventful as his exploration of the west had been, then it was probably a safe place to stop in the heat of the day - safer than most of Babylonia, at that.

A break was badly needed. Master Fujimaru wasn’t one to complain, but the road from Uruk to Mt. Ebih had been long and swelteringly hot, and they were only halfway there. He'd been draining canteens faster than was probably healthy, and trying not to show how punishing the pace was for him.

When Kaison arrived back at the orchard’s center, Master was seated there under a tall date-palm, taking a well-earned rest. He’d stopped wearing his white uniform coat days ago, but the scarf-shaped Mystic Code that let him survive in this mana-oversaturated Age of Gods still wound around his neck. The look split the difference between dashing and ridiculous, which seemed appropriate to Kaison. The tan on Master’s bare arms highlighted the scattering of pale scars he’d earned.  His eyes were half-closed, and he was fanning himself with a palm frond in one hand. The other was fiddling with one of the rectangular devices modern folk favored.

Kaison would admit that, apocalypse notwithstanding, the modern world had a lot going for it. Flush toilets alone would have been a life-changing experience, if he’d still had to use them. Still, he couldn’t see the appeal of poking at a tiny window instead of experiencing the world around him. Neither life nor enlightenment was found in little handheld boxes.

The Lancer found a clear space a little distance away where he could see Master but wouldn’t disturb him, and began to carefully clean and sharpen each of the seven weapons he bore in Benkei’s name. There was no real need for it, but he found it meditative to go through the motions. As he did he recounted to himself the tales he was here to embody: Benkei’s duel with young Ushiwakamaru at Gojo Bridge, his theft and return of the Mii-dera temple bell, his feats in the Genpei war, bluffing Yoshitsune’s way through the Ataka checkpoint, his standing death at Komorogowa…

Kaison knew those stories better than his own. For good reason, too - hadn’t he spent more than one lifetime telling them, making sure they were remembered? He’d never known how he’d been granted extra centuries of life, but he’d always known that a coward like himself only had one use for them - to make sure the deeds of those more worthy than he were remembered. He’d made Benkei and Yoshitsune live on in the memories of Japan, while Kaison, Benkei’s old comrade and rival, was all but forgotten.

Still, reminders of his role here were welcome. He slipped often enough as it was; alas, to tell a story of Benkei and to live it were two different things.

He’d finished cleaning his naginata and moved on to his maul when Lord Yoshitsune emerged from the trees, chatting amicably with Shielder Kyrielight as they brought water back from one of the clearer canals. Both of them slowed when they saw Master. The Shielder nudged Yoshitsune with her elbow, handed over a couple of still-dripping canteens, and said something. Yoshitsune nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t move; she just watched Fujimaru, unusually hesitant. Kyrielight nudged her again and made a ‘go on’ head-bob towards Master before turning away toward the road, where Tristan’s idle harp-strumming could be heard.

Oho! This might be worth watching. Kaison narrowed his eyes and shifted a little to better see what followed. 

Lord Yoshitsune perked up with a sudden grin, as if an idea had come to her. Before Master noticed her approach, she bounded up the tree he sat beneath and cut free one of the hanging clusters of dates. At the feel of the tree shaking, Master looked up to find her dropping lightly to the ground before him. She struck a triumphant stance, made some kind of dramatic proclamation, and knelt before him, holding up the dates by the bundle’s stem like a warrior presenting a foe’s head dangling from its hair.

Startled, Master blinked at her and began to laugh hard enough that he had to work to keep from falling over. She grinned, but held her pose, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Master considered for a moment, then drew himself up like a clan lord holding court, his expression so serious and intent it verged on outright mockery, fanning himself in furious agitation. He glared at the bunch of fruit as though it had slain his only child and nodded with grave satisfaction at its defeat. His arm made a sweeping gesture with his palm frond. Kaison couldn’t make out the words of whatever faux acclamation he gave her, but Yoshitsune burst into laughter halfway through and nearly dropped the dates.

Both of them relaxed, smiling at each other, and Lord Yoshitsune proffered the fruit more casually. Master scooted to the side, and she sat down next to him and handed him a canteen, watching in amusement as he drained the whole thing without taking a breath. Afterward, they joined forces in studying the dates, squeezing and prodding them with uncertain looks. Eventually, Master shrugged, pulled a date free seemingly at random, and bit down on it, then immediately made a face and spat it out. Yoshitsune took another, held it up to look at it, and tried it. She made a face too, but ate it anyway, puckering her lips at the taste.

Kaison chuckled to himself. He wouldn’t have intruded even if he could help, but he didn’t know what a ripe date looked like either.

After a few minutes of experimentation and a lot of mouth-puckering, the two worked out which dates were worth eating. Chewing contentedly, Master rummaged in his pack and brought out some kind of thin cord, which he attached to his little handheld window-box. He stuck the other end into…

Kaison squinted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Into his ear? Why would anyone do that? 

It looked like the cord forked to make one device end and two ear ends. Master held the other free end out to Lord Yoshitsune, who looked between it and the one in his ear with the same skepticism Kaison felt.

Master gestured at it as he spoke, explaining something, and Yoshitsune’s expression turned to one of wary interest. Taking the offered cord, Yoshitsune mimicked their Master and awkwardly stuck it into her ear. Her hesitation at the necessity of putting her head a little closer to Master’s than propriety indicated was barely noticeable, and she leaned back against the tree alongside him.

“You were always more intrepid than I, Lord Yoshitsune,” Kaison muttered. No one would catch him putting what looked like tiny mushrooms on a string into his ears, even for a Master he admired.

Master fiddled with his device, and Lord Yoshitsune started as if she’d heard something. She turned toward him, then kept turning, as if looking for the source of another voice. One hand went to her ear, and her perplexity turned to surprised enjoyment, which made Master smile in turn.

They’d been mirroring each other’s emotions lately, Kaison had noted. Seeing Master happy made Lord Yoshitsune happy, and vice versa. There was nothing mystical or even surprising about it, of course. He’d seen it before, on his lord’s face, even, when she wooed the Lady Shizuka - or vice versa, it had been hard to tell.

For everyone's sakes, he hoped their burgeoning romance ended better than that one had.

The pair settled back against the tree. Their Master swayed slightly back and forth, mouth moving as if either singing or reciting. Lord Yoshitsune was bobbing her head in time with his swaying, as if they were listening to the same, unheard rhythm. Master twisted a date free of the bunch and tossed it to her without looking; she caught it and popped it into her mouth, still nodding to the rhythm. A moment later, she tossed one back to him the same way.

It was almost startling to see Lord Yoshitsune acting so carefree. The Minamoto general he was familiar with was ruthless and driven, with only fading echoes of happiness to guide her. Even during the few years she’d had with Shizuka, she’d been focused, holding off bitterness like an enemy army. It had been a long time since he’d seen her young enough to laugh and hope. Did that make her less the lord he’d sworn to follow, or more?

Without further interesting developments between his lords at the moment, Kaison settled in to finish his maintenance on the other five of Benkei’s tools, more slowly now, pondering that last thought. Identity itself was such a tangle these days. He was and was not the Heroic Spirit Hitachibou Kaison, And Kaison here both was and was not Musashibou Benkei. He wasn’t even the only one laying claim to those names in this Singularity! It was a mercy that neither he nor Lord Yoshitsune had been subjected to dealing with some kind of tainted, hateful alternate version of themselves, as some unfortunate Servants seemed prone to in Chaldea. Amida Buddha grant it remains so, he thought.

By the time he’d finished his meditations, Yoshitsune and Master were both dozing in the midday heat, leaning against the tree. Their heads tilted towards each other, still linked by that ear-cord, shoulders only a hand’s breadth apart. They looked very much at peace.

An idea came to him as he looked at them.

Benkei might have thought of it. Benkei might even have acted on it. If he had, he would have done so only out of truest devotion, misbehaving for his lord’s benefit, and privately agonized about it. But Hitachibou Kaison would never have come down from his precarious place upon the Throne of Heroes if he was not, at heart, a meddler. After all, he reasoned, it was not just his Benkei persona who was sworn to their service. Sometimes people needed a little meddling for their own good, didn’t they?

Besides, he thought impishly, it’s going to be really funny.

Kaison was no Assassin, but his unspectacular Agility was enough to prevent him waking the pair as he approached. He spent a few moments judging angles, depth of sleep, and the likelihood of rousing them too soon. Drowsing or not, Lord Yoshitsune would notice if he disturbed her in the slightest. The consequences of that were likely to be… dire. Master, however, was a different story.

With a mischievous smile, Kaison reached out with one big finger and nudged his Master’s shoulder until he was just the slightest bit off-balance. Then, holding his breath, he crept away, leaving Master tilting ever… so… slowly… towards Lord Yoshitsune.

Once Kaison was safely away, he turned to regard his handiwork. Master’s tilt had continued until his shoulder had collided gently with Yoshitsune’s, jostling then just enough that they both shifted in their sleep. Now they were propped up against each others’ shoulders, heads touching. Even as he watched, Master gave a yawn and shifted to lean more against her, and Yoshitsune’s face rolled another couple of degrees towards her lord’s.

Perfection.

Kaison let out a satisfied breath, which he caught as he was interrupted by a sly voice. “Playing games with your lord and Master, Benkei?”

With an ironclad will, he suppressed his startle reflex before it did more than make his eyelid twitch. Benkei never startled, not even for Assassins and their thrice-cursed Presence Concealment. He turned to stare at Jing Ke, who was leaning against a tree behind him. Had she been watching the whole time?

“Merely trying to help,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It’s my duty to… nudge both of them in useful directions.” He let a gleam of amusement show on his face as he turned to the Assassin. “Any entertainment I might find in it is simply advance payment on my karma for a good deed.”

Jing Ke chuckled. “If that works for you, it works for me.” She turned to give her Master and her friend a fond look. “Look at them. They’re adorable, it’s like they’re magnetized.”

Kaison nodded his agreement. “If they stay asleep long enough, one of them is going to wake up with their head on the other’s lap.”

The Assassin cackled softly. “Now, that would be entertainment. We could bet on which was which. It’s a shame we probably can’t let them sleep all night.”

It truly was a shame, in more ways than one. He’d rarely seen Lord Yoshitsune so relaxed around another person, in either life. The Master of Chaldea had a real talent for lowering people’s guard. Yoshitsune clearly found him attractive, but more than that, she’d placed her trust in him.

There was little he could do about the bitterness that gnawed at Lord Yoshitsune’s soul. His very presence was a reminder of its source; talking to her about it was like trying to put out a fire with tinder. It was much more likely that she’d simply kill him, as she idly threatened to do on a regular basis.

Not that he blamed her in the slightest. He’d abandoned her to save his own skin, after all. His death was warranted several times over. Perhaps it would help her if he returned to the Throne of his own accord instead?

He dismissed the idea. Certainly, Kaison had no honor of his own to preserve, but he’d die a thousand deaths before he showed Benkei to be faithless. Besides, he could imagine Lord Yoshitsune’s response to breaking oath with Fujimaru. Master was possibly too understanding about his Servants’ willfulness, but though Yoshitsune was possessed of many stellar qualities, a forgiving nature was not among them. 

Jing Ke tilted her head thoughtfully. “You met her brother, right?”

Wondering where this was going, Kaison nodded. “To my regret.”

“What was he like?”

He contemplated his response for a few seconds. “A dozen paranoid vipers in a court robe.”

Jing Ke hunched over to keep her laughter quiet.

“I can trust you not to share what I just said where it might reach Lord Yoshitsune’s ears?” Despite his attempt to be stern, his statement came out sounding like a question. Still chuckling, the Assassin gave him an amusedly scornful look. “Mm,” he grunted, acknowledging her point. “Apologies. Forget that I asked.”

She waved a hand casually as she straightened up, as if to say it was already forgotten. “Vipers, eh?” A finger tapped against the map case that held her Noble Phantasm. “Shame no one managed to put an end to him.”

“Indeed it was.” For a moment, Kaison allowed himself to think of what might have been. Surely, they could have found a way to bring Yoritomo down if Yoshitsune had allowed it, giving control of the Minamoto to her. With her brother ousted or slain, the Taira Clan obliterated, and the Emperor safely put away in his ornamental court at Heian-Kyo, Yoshitsune would have been the obvious candidate to claim the nation.

It would have been a disaster for everyone. Yoshitsune had too much drive, too little self-restraint, and no interest whatsoever in compromise. With no Emperor to answer to and no lord to serve, she’d have been a bored, malcontent despot. Within a couple of years she’d have sailed off to conquer Korea, interrupting the squabbling lords only with periodic demands for more troops.

He sighed internally and tried to banish the brief, shameful vision. Kaison never could help finding complications where there should be only devotion. Lord Yoshitsune’s greatest strength was her capacity to see the world in personal terms, to find the same absolute purpose in her own choices that others found in the words of priests and philosophers. Kaison struggled to find certainty in anything, even the penitence to which he’d pledged his soul.

Forcing himself to stop mulling over decisions long since made, he glanced at his erstwhile companion and changed the subject. “Are you going to wake them up?”

“Nope, not unless we have to. I’m going to wait so I have a front-row seat when they do. And,” Jing Ke said, raising the bundle of dates the sleeping pair had been sharing, “I brought snacks.”

* * *

There was something tickling Ritsuka’s nose, just often enough to slowly drag him up from a pleasant midday nap. It came with a scent, feathers and cedarwood and seaspray with a hint of something earthier underneath, the undertone of a person instead of a perfume. He almost recognized it, like a scent from a pleasant memory he couldn’t quite place. The sun was bright and hot, but he only felt comfortably warm. A familiar, wistful song was playing in his ear.

Someone was very near, someone he wanted to stay close to. He knew he should get up, but all he wanted was to keep his eyes shut for another minute and enjoy it. There was a job to do, there was always a job to do, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed.

Barely aware, Ritsuka scrunched his nose a few times and cracked his eyes open. A few strands of fine hair drifted in front of them, brushing the tip of his nose, and fell back again.

Oh, those were Ushi’s bangs tickling his nose.

“There’s nothing I want to say,” sang a familiar song in his ear. “ I just want to see you again.”

He blinked himself half-awake. Ushi’s head was resting against his, or vice versa, their shoulders pressed together. She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Her eyes were closed, long lashes fluttering in his breath, and her face was half turned towards his, almost as if she was going to -

“I can’t say what I want to say,” the song went on. “ Maybe I don’t have the courage, but that’s okay.”

Ushi’s eyes opened with none of the blinking and squinting he often went through, and met his eyes from inches away. Smiling at her felt as natural and involuntary as breathing. Her mouth curved up in the beginnings of an answering smile, as if she was happy to see him there, so close to her.

“If only one wish is granted," his earbud sang, “let me sleep by your side; anywhere will do.”

The spell broke.

Two pairs of eyes went wide, and suddenly, both of them were completely awake. Ritsuka  reflexively hit the ‘stop’ button on his phone, feeling his cheeks burning, and sat bolt upright. Ushi recoiled away from him like one or both of them was on fire.

“Sorry!” he gasped. “Uh, I must have fallen over -“

“Please forgive my presumption! I didn’t mean -“

Both of them fell silent, not looking at each other with great force. Ritsuka thought he heard chortling from somewhere, but a quick look around showed no one. He chalked it up to his embarrassed imagination.

After a moment, still looking anywhere except at him, Ushi held out the earpiece to his headphones with a quiet, “Thank you, my lord. I enjoyed the music.” 

Ritsuka took it without turning, trying not to be so aware of when his fingers touched her palm. “You’re welcome,” he said. At least they hadn’t damaged the headphones with their flailing around. This was his last pair. Da Vinci could probably replace them, but he’d long ago decided he’d rather do without than stick anything da Vinci had made in his ear. It’d probably play music, but not even the gods knew what else it’d do.

He was very much aware that he was distracting himself.

“Well… Um. That was a nice nap.” He couldn’t look at her, but he also couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“Yes!” She took a deep breath. “Yes, it was.” Well, she was sounding a lot less anxious than she’d been a few moments ago. Downright pleased, in fact.

If he were being honest, he was pretty happy too, in a stomach-butterflies sort of way. He was going to have to figure out what to do with these feelings, and soon, because they sure weren’t going away. In fact, they were doing the opposite, and quickly. But for now…

“Ushi?”

“My lord?”

“Where’d the dates go?”

* * *

From behind a couple of rows of trees, Kaison watched Lord Yoshitsune pull Master to his feet with a grin. “That was worth the wait.” Kaison discreetly spat out another date pit.

“Yeah. They’re cute, aren’t they?” Jing Ke asked, popping a date into her mouth. She bit down, made a face, and took it out again to eye it suspiciously. “Damn it. How do you keep finding the ripe ones?”

“There is a trick to it,” he said, eating another.

The Assassin gave him a wry look out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Kaison shook his head as he chewed, ignoring the astringent taste. This date was just as bitter and unripe as his last two, but he let no sign of the unpleasant flavor cross his face. “Keep at it. I’m sure you’ll discover it yourself.”

Jing Ke made a grumpy sound and tossed her date behind her. As if putting off picking another one, she watched Yoshitsune helping to dust off Master’s back. “Glad she’s finally getting somewhere. She seems happy.”

“Yes,” Kaison said. “I gave up hoping for her happiness long ago. It’s strange to find myself doing so again.’

“Is that jealousy I detect in your tone?”

Kaison snorted a laugh. “No. Regret, perhaps. Not jealousy.” Despite what some of the other Servants assumed, romance, one-sided or not, had never been part of his relationship with Yoshitsune. She was far too frightening.

The Assassin kept watching him out of the corner of her eye, waiting for an explanation.

He straightened up. “I’ve been many things - a monk, a warrior, a vagabond. But nearly all of my life I have also been a priest, and a priest’s calling is to help others find a way to live well in this tragic world. No matter what we did, though, we who followed Lord Yoshitsune never managed to help her do that. Joy slipped farther and farther out of reach for her, and in the end, what small comfort I could have provided was a casualty of the failure of my courage.”

Jing Ke turned back to Fujimaru and Yoshitsune. “Funny,” she said without looking, “I hadn’t heard of Musashibou Benkei’s courage ever failing.”

Kaison harrumphed. “Some stories are not fit to be told.”

Chapter Text

December 28, 2018

“Another Berserker incoming on the right,” Mash called, from just ahead on Quetzalcoatl’s pteranodon.

Ritsuka squinted through the twilight from his precarious perch and saw the clone appear. There was something viscerally disturbing about watching Ushiwakamaru’s clones form out of the sludge beneath them, mud rising and whirling together to shape their black armor and their ashen, murderous faces. It was a hideous perversion of how he and Ushi met, a bastardized, body-horror summoning. My will creates your body, he remembered saying, over and over with every summoning ritual, and grimaced.

To say that Ritsuka was riding Maana, the Boat of Heaven, would imply that he had any kind of control whatsoever, or for that matter a place to sit. Instead, he clung to the frame of Ishtar’s bow-slash-vehicle like he was hanging in the open door of a van barrelling through highway traffic. His elbow was hooked through the upper chain connecting the two hovering pieces of the divine weapon, and one foot was braced on each of the lower arms. Ishtar, drifting alongside, had to hold on to him every time aerobatics were required. Being repeatedly grabbed by a scantily-clad tsundere war goddess would probably make him anxious in other circumstances, but his anxiety had hit some sort of a cap hours ago and it barely registered.

They were flying on dinosaurs in pursuit of a kaiju mother-goddess over the corrupted Persian Gulf while fighting off tentacle monsters and a clone army of his crush’s evil twin. He’d laugh at the absurdity of it all if he weren’t in the middle of it trying to stave off the apocalypse. Being part of a badly-written disaster movie was much worse than it seemed from the other side of the screen.

Every time he looked ahead at Tiamat, he had to remind himself to breathe; something well below his conscious mind locked up in primal terror when he thought about her. She was still far ahead, marching toward Uruk, her ponderous dragon footsteps sounding like thunder from a distant storm. Black-limbed Lahmu flitted about her feet, cavorting grotesquely in the tarry ocean in her shadow. He’d seen what they’d done to the humans they’d caught. Seen what was left. It wasn’t something he’d ever be able to unsee.

And then, there was Ushiwakamaru. Not his Ushi - if he could call her that - but King Gilgamesh’s lost and corrupted Servant. She’d been an ally and a friend. Now, Tiamat’s black Authority had transformed her into a Berserker, spawning and respawning from the cursed ocean. She wasn’t the most terrible or the most awful of their many, many problems, but she was definitely the most agonizingly personal.

The clone’s red eyes lifted toward them, and she gave a grimly enthusiastic smile. That smile had been bright and familiar when they’d met in Uruk. “So Chaldea has already summoned me?” she’d said, as she and her Chaldean counterpart looked each other up and down. “Hah, I see that in both the past and the future, my name is well known! Excellent!”

This would be the fourth time today he’d have to kill her.

“Kiritsugu,” he called, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Ahead on the right. Take her out.”

The red-swathed Assassin on the next pterosaur raised an arm with swift deliberation, pistol barrel pointing like an extended finger. There was a sharp report, and the clone stumbled and sank back into the mud without ever leaving the surface, scarlet eyes still staring at them.

Acid burned in the back of Ritsuka’s throat. He was going to have nightmares about this, if he ever got to sleep again. Kiritsugu would’ve done it without his order, but how could he let himself shy away from what they were doing? He wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t part of this.

With a shout of alarm, Ishtar wrenched Maana to the side, nearly flinging him off. There was a black blur, and something whistled by his head, whipping his hair. When he’d straightened up, another Ushiwakamaru clone had landed atop Maana, She sneered at him and wound up for another swing with her free hand. He knew instinctively she’d cut at his neck. There was nowhere to dodge, so he did the only thing he could think of - he slipped his arm out of the chain and his feet off of the bars and let himself drop.

For a sickening moment, Ritsuka was in free-fall. The Berserker’s strike rang discordantly off of Maana’s arm above him; even the storied Usumidori couldn’t dent the Boat of Heaven. Flailing for a grip, he caught Maana’s lower chain as he fell. Something popped agonizingly in his wrist when he jerked to a halt, but he gritted his teeth and held on, dangling by his hand a hundred meters above the seething ocean. Leonidas’ grip-strength exercises suddenly seemed entirely justified.

Hands raised in anger, Ishtar dropped to hover protectively between him and the Berserker. He wasn’t sure how much she could do against someone standing on top of her weapon, but the jewels tucked between her fingers gleamed in the twilight, and he hoped it would be enough.

“That head of yours is truly an eyesore, Master of Chaldea.” The Berserker scowled down at him, red veins across her face pulsing with sullen fire, an image of Ushi wrought in charcoal and magma. Even knowing it wasn’t Ushi, the loathing on her face cut deeper than he expected. For a moment, he wanted to say something, to try to reach her somehow. He knew it would've been a fool’s errand even if he hadn’t already been dangling between his choice of ugly deaths, but…

“Why?” The words felt dragged out of him. He struggled to pull himself up and throw his arms over the chain. “Why would you want to kill humanity?”

The blackened Ushiwakamaru straightened up as if surprised, her eyes widening until the whites showed all around them. “Why, you ask…?” A sneer peeled the last veneer of composure from her face, leaving only scorn. “What about all of you? Why do you fight so hard to protect humanity? You claim the Lahmu are monsters, but the truth is, humans or Lahmu, there’s no difference! One’s as vile as the other!”

The Berserker tilted her head in a painfully familiar way, but with a sarcastic, mocking tinge to it. “Say there was a heroic deed performed in the face of tragedy. Say there was one person, amid all the selfish others, who set out to help the suffering and asked for nothing.” She snorted in disdain. “Such a thing would only be taken advantage of, and then dishonored by the ones who couldn’t match it! You humans are always like that!” Shaking with rage, she ranted on. “You all crowd around a miracle and mock it to cover up your own inadequacy! Why would I want to fight for such creatures? Why did we have to be killed!?” The last sentence burst out in a shout that seemed almost involuntary.

Shaken by her anguish as much as his danger, Ritsuka swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, as she regained control of herself. It was the only answer he could give.

Of course he knew Ushi wasn’t content with her life’s story. How could she be? How could any of his comrades be? If there was one thing he’d learned personally in the last year and a half, it was that heroism always, always left scars. But the seething hatred the Berserker radiated was at the same time unexpected and sadly recognizable, like a part of Ushi he’d refused to see until it tried to murder him.

Ushiwakamaru made a tch sound. “It would be pointless to even try to correct you now. Just die. Die, all of you!” she snapped. Her eyes went half-lidded, and her voice softened to a croon with violence threaded through it. “Dying and starting again from scratch is the only path left for this world.”

From the side came a furious cry of, “Shut your treacherous mouth!” Ushi - his Ushi - launched herself from the pterosaur she shared with the Jaguar Warrior and landed next to the Berserker, already swinging. Green and red sparks showered as their blades met. In the brief light Ritsuka could see a peculiar, focused hatred on Ushi’s face. The pair whirled frantically about each other, blades flying almost in tandem as they pirouetted atop Maana. Only they could have found enough footing to fight atop a bow, he thought.

Ishtar let out an unladylike snarl and flicked her fingers to the side. Jewels flew like tiny comets, dazzlingly bright. They left colorful trails as they curved mid-flight and hit the side of Ushiwakamaru’s head, where they detonated, one after another. Beneath the barrage, Ushiwakamaru staggered back with a cry, throwing her arms out for balance. Already at too-close quarters because of their perch atop Maana, Ushi stepped even farther into her reach, almost shoulder to chest. When she twisted her body, her sword came up beneath her opponent’s outstretched arm and didn’t stop there.

Still holding her copy of Usumidori, Ushiwakamaru’s severed arm flew up and away, trailing a liquid that wasn’t blood. The Berserker snarled in pain and rage and flipped backwards. Her foot came up in an impossibly vertical kick that caught Ushi under the chin. Ritsuka’s heard Ushi let out a surprised yelp as she was knocked back and up a dozen meters, arcing out toward the open ocean, away from Maana and the pteranodon flight. With the momentum from the kick, the Berserker threw herself back to grab onto Maana again, this time clinging to the prow of the bow-boat with her good arm. “Come and join me!” she called to the falling Ushi, with a sick, anticipatory grin over her shoulder.

Ritsuka had a momentary vision of her sinking into the cursed mud, her skin running dark, veins of red growing across her skin as she choked. Almost without thinking, he snapped, “Ushi, with my first Command Seal, I order you: don’t fall!”

The artificial miracle on his hand pulsed with red light. The same color shimmered around Ushi, who planted a foot in midair and stopped dead, holding a one-legged fighting stance balanced on nothing at all a dozen meters beneath them.

“You fool,” the Berserker grated, turning to glare at Ritsuka across Maana’s length, tarry blood dripping from the jewel wounds on her face. “I saw the way you looked at her in Uruk. You think you’re saving her? Deep down, we’re the same. She’d be happier like me -”

“I've had enough of you! Get off my ride!” Ishtar roared in outrage. A thunderous point-blank burst fired from Maana’s prow. There was no way for her to miss. Arrows of white fire punched out of Ushiwakamaru’s back, spraying thick black mud spraying from the gaping holes in her torso. The copy made no sound as she was blown from her perch. Her resentful glare never relented as she fell. Still poised there in midair, Ushi watched her counterpart fall, her expression wide-eyed with fury and something else, something Ritsuka couldn’t name.

“She almost had you, you idiot!” Ishtar bobbed gracefully down, wrapped an arm around his waist, and hauled him back aboard Maana with more than human strength. “Be more careful next time!”

“Uh, I’ll try. Thanks,” he managed, settling his feet back atop Maana’s bow-arms. Ishtar’s scowl briefly turned to a smile, but he had no attention to pay. Blood dripped into his eye and he reached up to find a clean, shallow cut above one eye, running into his hair. He shuddered once, violently. That had been closer than he’d thought. Once he noticed it, he could feel the cold burn of the cut; another couple of centimeters closer and it would have opened his skull; a bit lower, and it would’ve taken his eye.

Below them, Another mud-draped Berserker began to rise out of the ocean, and another, and another, loping after their flight group like wolves on the hunt.

* * *

As Ritsuka might have expected from him, Benkei returned to his lord just in time to die.

Another fruitless half hour of skirmish and pursuit had brought them no closer to finding a way to break past Ushiwakamaru’s endless clones, until he’d arrived, somehow running pell-mell over the black mud without harm. It couldn’t seem to get a grip on him, though it slopped around his bare feet in a way that looked almost angry. It had been extremely impressive, until he’d wrapped the nearest clone up in a bear hug and been immediately skewered by all the rest for his trouble.

Not that it seemed likely to kill him anytime soon, Ritsuka thought. But as Ushiwakamaru recriminated him and Benkei apologized for his failures and so-called cowardice, he wasn’t sure what good it would do, either. If his team tried to make a break for it, they’d just draw most of the clones after them.

“Let’s just shoot them both and have done with it,” Ishtar muttered as they circled above the confrontation. Behind her, Kiritsugu somehow implied low-grade agreement without moving or speaking. Quetzalcoatl frowned in displeasure, but didn’t disagree. Mash looked pained.

Ritsuka hesitated. He wouldn’t normally consider something like that, but it seemed like what Benkei was aiming for.

“No,” Ushi said from her pteranodon, sounding almost strangled. A glance showed that her eyes were closed and her mouth was drawn into a thin line. “If he thinks he will accomplish something this way… Let him try. She is owed that much.””

Wearily, Ritsuka nodded. “If anyone has a better idea than this to get those Berserkers out of our way… speak up.”

No one spoke up.

“Then… let’s let this play out. When he’s gone, though, try to ki…” Ritsuka swallowed the word. “Try to get them out of the way as fast as we can and we’ll make a break for Tiamat.” It was the best idea he had, which wasn’t saying much.

“Lord Ushiwakamaru. That hatred of yours does not come from Tiamat! It was something that was always buried within you, pointed at all humans,” Benkei cried out below them, raising his voice so that the Chaldeans could hear. . “That was something I couldn’t bear.” He shook his great head slowly. “I never imagined you were alone to the very end. Even if he couldn’t save your heart, Benkei must not have wanted to leave you alone. For you to be consumed with such anger… I couldn’t stand it.”

That only seemed to make an already furious Ushiwakamaru even angrier. A few of her twisted their blades, making Benkei groan. “Shut up! After we chop you up, what’ll be the use of a monk’s lecture?”

Benkei chuckled painfully against the swords. “You mustn't speak lightly of lectures. After all, with mastery, one can even do something like this.” His free hand made an open-handed mudra before his face. “Namu Myouhou Renge Kyou. The great mandala shall manifest.”

With the sound of a hundred temple bells, golden light crashed into existence around them, coalescing into a shimmering design behind Benkei, a wide, cascading field of mandalas within mandalas that radiated Peace and Emptiness from the Buddha-shaped figure at the center. It was almost too bright to look at, but somehow, Ritsuka could still see them, at the center of the holy presence. Benkei stood even straighter, but all of Ushiwakamaru’s instances trembled in the light. The one he was grappling screamed, disbelieving. “What is this? What are you doing to me, you fool!?” 

“I am only doing as Benkei does!” he roared, his tattered shugenja’s outfit whipping as if in a whirlwind. “This time, my lord, I shall be with you ‘till the end! If our opponent is the Primordial Sea… then let this existence be of some small assistance to you at last! Now, let us burn all our sins in the Western Paradise! Pilgrimage of the Five Hundred Arhat!”

Bells tolled again, and brilliant sparks surrounded by more mandalas streamed out of the grand design. They passed around and through the grappling figures in a great, curling stream towards the setting sun and purification, each one intoning mantras as it flew. The Ushiwakamaru-body Benkei held shuddered each time one touched her, the fire fading from the red veins that covered her. She struggled and thrashed, but Benkei’s grip was unbreakable. Gradually, the red vanished from her skin, until all that was left looked like a dead campfire, grey and ashen. One by one, the clones around Benkei slumped back into frothing black mud and came apart, leaving only two figures standing there.

“Lord Yoshitsune.” Somehow, the ringing bells and echoing mantras didn’t drown him out. A trickle of blood emerged from Benkei’s mouth, but there was no pain in his voice at all, only apology. “Please forgive me for my long absence...” Both of them began to fray at the edges, spilling golden motes.

“You fool…” Ushiwakamaru’s hand trembled, then grasped Benkei’s shoulder. “Always worried about such petty things. There’s no joy in taking the life of a coward like you.” Her head dropped down to rest against Benkei’s broad chest, and the scowl on her face faded to something like amusement. “To think they called you a sage. Bah, a fool will always be a fool…” Her grip tightened on his arm.

Amid the light of Benkei’s Noble Phantasm, Lord and retainer came apart in a shower of brilliant sparks that added their glow to the mandala’s bright glory. For a brief moment, in that tiny part of the vast sea of filth, purest gold drowned out the blackness.

Then the light was gone. When Ritsuka blinked away the afterimages, the only traces left of Babylonia’s Ushiwakamaru and Benkei were a few fading motes of golden light.

“…Confirming the disappearance of both Benkei and Ushiwakamaru's Spirit Origins,” Mash said quietly, sounding a little shaken. “Tiamat's guardians are gone…”

The world should have stopped to pay tribute to what had just happened, Ritsuka felt. But of course it didn’t. The black ocean continued to boil beneath the night sky. In the background, Tiamat’s footsteps continued to shake the earth and sky, a drum beating out the time until the end of the world.

He gave himself and everyone else the space of a long breath to compose himself, then another, and another. Then, wordlessly, he tapped Ishtar on the shoulder and nodded towards Ushi.

“Really, don’t we have more important things to worry about?” It was only a halfhearted complaint, and Ishtar was already easing Maana in the direction he’d indicated.

Ushi was still staring down at the black ocean where the two of them had disappeared. “Ushi,” he called, as softly as the wind of their passage allowed, “are you okay?” There must have been a better way to say it, a better question to ask, but he was too weary to figure it out on the fly and too anxious to wait.

Ushi stared down at the black ocean for what seemed like minutes before she responded. “I do not like heights, my lord,” she finally said. “There is always a fall eventually.” When she looked up, she looked distressed when she saw his bloody face, then composed herself. Her hand was relaxed upon Usumidori’s hilt, her expression stoic and attentive. She was the very picture of a samurai, poised and ready for anything. She met his eyes and gave him a firm nod.

She wasn’t fooling him. She wasn’t even trying to. But if she didn’t want to speak about it, he wouldn’t make her, and if she could keep moving forward, he couldn’t do less. They had only hours to stop Tiamat. If she reached Uruk, the world ended. No one had time for his sentimentality.

Not trusting his words to be able to do justice to the situation, he simply nodded back. To the group, he said, “Okay. We’ve got a clear path to Tiamat now. Quetzalcoatl… You’re up.”

“Si! Ready to go!” Quetzalcoatl gave a sun-bright grin over her shoulder to him and shouted to her pterosaur minions. The whole group surged forward in a flurry of leathery wings. 

Ritsuka turned his eyes ahead, and steeled himself to kill a goddess.

Chapter Text

December 29, 2018

There weren’t exactly impromptu parties in the halls of Chaldea when the Last Master of Chaldea returned victorious from Babylonia, but the feeling in the air was a heady mix of urgency and triumph. Everyone who could be useful had been asked to help with the frantic work to source the last Solomonic Grail. Everyone else who hadn’t already passed out after the mission was in the cafeteria talking about how they were seven for seven now, and making jokes about bonus rounds, or speculating on what time period they were going to in the end, if not Solomon’s lifetime.

As Ushiwakamaru glared dully at the Servants and the smattering of mortal staffers passing Ritsuka around to congratulate him, her mood was not celebratory, to say the least. Remaining in the background was not usually her style, but her exhaustion and her agitation were battling each other to a deadlock that left her unable to either relax or make her usual perfectly clearheaded decisions. The few hours since they’d returned from Babylonia were not nearly sufficient for her to come to grips with her alternate self’s appalling behavior. No matter how well it had begun, the mission had been an experience she was glad to see the end of.

Rayshifting left no sweat or grime, and the wounds that followed Ritsuka back to his real body had been seen to by the best healers and medics in Chaldea. None of that changed the weary way he nodded and smiled at the Servants around him, tight-lipped, responding with words only when he had to. There was a great deal of back-slapping, which sometimes sent him staggering. A few Servants took the opportunity to cling to him, only to be rapidly chased off by the next one looking to have a word. Mash was trying to run interference, but she was just as tired as Ritsuka and there was only so much you could do about garrulous Servants short of open warfare.

Couldn’t they see how strained he was? Or did they simply not care? As weary as Ushi was, if open warfare was what was required to help her lord, she was confident she still had it in her.

“Master looks like he’s been wrung out to dry.” Ryougi Shiki leaned against the wall next to her, arms folded across the leather jacket she somehow made work with her kimono. “The command crew said that things in Babylonia were bad, but maybe they undersold it.”

“They did,” Ushi grated out. She felt frayed around the edges, twitchy and unsettled after the constant battles of the night before. A drawn-out battle against the most reprehensible aspects of yourself could do that, she supposed. As usual, it was better to focus on her lord’s distress than her own; at least that she could do something about. “I don’t know when he last slept. Days ago, I think. There was simply no time to rest once things began to go truly wrong.”

Ryougi glanced at her. “That bad?”

Ushi shook her head. “If anything, I am underselling it as well.”

“And he’s supposed to deploy again in less than a day.” It wasn’t a question. Celebrations or not, everyone had heard how soon the quite literal deadline was arriving. At year’s end, Solomon won, unless they reached him first. Two days until Chaldea ended, and any hope for humanity with it.

“He needs to rest.” Ushi felt her teeth grind against each other. “If this goes on much longer, I shall extract him myself, at swordpoint if I must.”

The Assassin eyed the crowd around her Master and sighed with displeasure. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,” she said, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they shone the blue of a high and endless sky, and a shiver ran down Ushi’s spine even though they weren’t looking at her. Hands in the pockets of her jacket, she walked towards her Master as if there was no crowd between them, and by the time she drew near, there wasn’t. She did not produce a knife. She didn’t need to. Ryougi’s very approach slew conversations left and right. Servants looked up in alarm and hastily made way, some of them before they even realized why.

Ushi watched with undisguised admiration as Ryougi Shiki quelled two dozen Heroic Spirits without a single word. She’d thought she had a first-rate killing intent, but now she knew better. It was like witnessing a master of the blade slay a band of warriors after being proud of her skill at beating other children with sticks. Was it something she could learn?

When she reached him, Ryougi laid a hand on Ritsuka’s shoulder and swept her empty-sky eyes across the Servants around him. “We’re done here. I will cut anyone who gets between Master and his bed.”

There were no objections.

Ritsuka’s shoulders dropped subtly in relief, even as he said, “No, no, it’s fine, they’re just -” Ryougi cut him off with a gentle shove between the shoulder blades to get him moving, and he acquiesced. “Okay, sorry, I guess it really is bedtime. Good night, everyone.” He trudged toward the door with Ryougi just behind.

Ushi fell into step behind the pair as they headed towards his quarters. As they left, a few Servants started to complain, but the Assassin shot a slow look back over her shoulder with the light still in her eyes, and that was that.

“Thanks, Aki. You’re a lifesaver,” Ritsuka mumbled, leaning on Ryougi. Her brow furrowed in incomprehension.

“His older sister, I believe,” Ushi said softly. She couldn’t remember whether she’d learned it in a dream of his past or a conversation with him. There’d been a surprising number of both over the last few seasons. She knew him as well as she’d ever known her comrades in life.

Ryougi frowned in a way that looked pleased. “If you’re mistaking me for your sister, you do need a break, Master.”

“Huh?” Ritsuka blinked at her, then gave a weary smile that didn’t even try to reach his eyes. “Sorry, Ryougi-san. You're probably right. It’s a shame about that big mission tomorrow.”

Watching him trudge wearily toward his quarters, Ushi felt a dull outrage that the world he was fighting for gave him so little back. But then, she’d known for centuries how the world ground down those who tried to hold it up, hadn’t she? Ritsuka deserved better. He deserved to smile again, without the weary, fearful edge that it showed lately.

She’d had a fragment of a song stuck in her head for weeks, ever since she’d woken up far too close to him in that Babylonian orchard. If only one wish is granted, let me sleep by your side... She wanted to hear the rest of it, but asking him would be impossibly awkward, and who else would know what song she was talking about?

When Ushiwakamaru had first been summoned, what she’d wanted had seemed so clear: to prove that she was a true and worthy samurai; to aid humanity and the one who called her; and above all, to win the Grail’s wish so she and her brother might be reconciled, somehow, someday.

She wasn’t sure what her wish was, now.

“When you get back, we’ll make sure Roman stays off your back for a while, so you can celebrate, or sleep, or whatever you want,” Ryougi said, stopping Ritsuka in front of his quarters.

“If,” Ritsuka corrected, with an unhappy smile.

Ryougi didn’t even bother shaking her head. “I meant what I said, Master. Until then…” She buzzed the door open and guided him through the doorway. “Get some sleep,” she finished, with another gentle push towards his bed.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled, tugging off his uniform jacket and letting it drop. He sat down heavily on the bed. His eyes slipped shut for a second, then snapped back open with a jolt. “Oh, uh… Hey, Ushi… Can I talk with you for a minute?”

Ushi considered a quick escape, but steeled herself instead. “Of course, my lord,” she replied, hiding her sudden nerves.

From behind, Ryougi put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll tell Hundred Personas to keep Serenity on a tighter leash than usual tonight. And I’ll keep an eye on Kiyohime myself. Do I need to remind you that he needs sleep too?” she asked pointedly. Ushi shot a glare at her, reddening at the implication, but the faint shine lingering in the Assassin’s eyes made her think twice about retorting. “Right, then. ‘Night, Master.” Ryougi gave a casual wave and strode off down the hall.

Ushi hesitated in the doorway. She had a good idea what this was about; her Babylonian counterpart’s behavior filled her with outrage and chagrin. It was a harsh reflection on her and her state of mind, and she was not looking forward to this conversation… But would she be the sort of coward who hid from her lord’s judgment? No, she would not. She stepped forward, letting the door hiss shut behind her.

With just the two of them in his room, Ritsuka relaxed, falling back onto the bed with his booted feet still on the floor. “I know you’re tired, too,” he said. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No, no, not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “What is it you wished to discuss?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that…” He stared at the ceiling, searching for words. “Mess? Debacle? I could see it was getting to you.”

She hung her head. “If I knew where a hole was I would hide in it for shame, my lord.”

“Shame?” Keeping his voice soft, he scoffed. “C’mon. That wasn’t you, Ushi.”

Ushi’s jaw clenched. “I would never behave in such a manner! …That is what I want to say. But it is because of my good fortune, rather than my character. If she could let herself give in to her resentment like that…” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence, though she let the pause go on long enough that they’d both hear it. “I wish to be a true and honorable retainer to you, my lord, but I understand you must have concerns about me after that.”

Ritsuka raised his head and looked up at her as if she’d grown another head. “…Nnnnno?”

“But I… She tried to…” She sputtered. “No? Truly?”

“You mean, am I worried you’ll try to chop off my head too?” Slowly, Ushi nodded. Ritsuka shook his head as he sat up. “Honestly, that never crossed my mind.”

She slowly straightened up. “It seemed to bother you a great deal when I… when she tried.”

“It sure did,” he said, a tremor hiding in his voice. He reached down to tug at one of his boots and went on in a firmer tone. “But I’m at least confident you’re not going to turn on me unless someone dunks you in primordial evil for a week. I feel like that’s a… what do you call it, an outlier scenario.” He met her eyes and managed a smile with a hint of his usual cheer. “Even then, I’d bet on you.”

She took in his smile and looked down, a strange mixture of relief and misery twisting in her gut. It was a novel experience to feel that her lord was less disappointed in her than she was. She could not dismiss her own failings so easily. He didn’t seem to need the reassurance that she was still on his side, but she found herself trying to reassure him anyway. “I can scarcely imagine wanting you dead,” she said quietly. “Watching myself try to…” Her nostrils flared in disgust and anger. “To murder you, again and again, it was… vile. Maddening. It was hard not to throw myself at her each time she appeared, even knowing it would not have helped.”

The stubborn boot finally came free and thumped to the ground. “I just wish I’d been able to help her,” Ritsuka said quietly. “Couldn’t think of a way, though. At least Benkei came through for her.”

Ushi frowned at the memory. “I suppose he did. It was,” she said, begrudging every word, “well done.” She was still processing Kaison’s last-minute bravery. Maybe two centuries of living with regret could, in fact, change someone. She wasn’t about to let go of her anger so easily, though.

“After all that, and all the other crap you’ve been through, I really hope you get what you’re looking for out of following me.” His brow furrowed. “A wish on a Grail’s supposed to be part of the Servant summoning bargain, right? I don’t know that I’ve ever asked you. What’s your wish?”

Well, that cut uncomfortably close to what she’d been pondering before this conversation, didn’t it? She glanced away, unsure whether her cheeks were reddening. “I… am no longer as certain as I once was, my lord. But these Grails we’ve found seem unlikely to grant any wish I would want fulfilled.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s fair. They’re more like weapons of mass destruction.” His other boot came off with another thump. Task accomplished, he slumped, elbows on knees at the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

Ushi watched him for any sign he was uncomfortable around her, any sign he wanted her to leave, and found none. Slowly, she was forced to conclude that, despite everything, he still trusted her.

“Why?”

“Huh?” He blinked as if coming back awake and glanced at her.

She hadn’t actually meant that to be out loud. There was nothing else for it now, though. “Why do you still trust me after you saw what's inside me?” she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

He gave a shrug as if the answer was simple. “It doesn’t bother me to find out you’re angry about what happened to you. You should be. I’ve been angry about it since I met you.”

Oh.

She took a deep breath, found herself empty of words to say in response to such compassion, and just let it out again. He must have seen something of the shock and vulnerability she felt in her expression, because he smiled at her, just a little, before looking back down.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Awkward, weary silences should not be so comfortable, but she found her exhaustion fading even as she stood there. She kept finding herself smiling involuntarily.

Without raising his head, Ritsuka asked, “Can I tell you something that might bother you?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I think we’re going to lose.”

That was not at all what she had expected.

“Tiamat was…” He shuddered. “Was not something… someone… anyone should have to set themselves against. Neither was the Lion King. Whatever we’re up against tomorrow, it’s going to be worse than that, and what the hell will that be like? I remember that… smile Solomon had, and the way he tore Anderson apart with just a wave of a hand. How can we fight that?”

A lack of confidence was not something Ushiwakamaru had ever been accused of, and she found it difficult to fully sympathize. Long odds did not intimidate her, especially when she was one of those on the front lines. “Believe in me, my lord, and your other Servants. You have dozens of the greatest heroes in history at your command! Solomon might be powerful, but if you set us to it, I think there’s very little your Servants could not accomplish.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice dropped close to a whisper. “...What I’m really scared of is that all the power we have is enough, and that I’m going to fuck it up anyway.” He swallowed visibly. “I’d almost rather say it’s impossible than have it be my fault everyone dies.”

“It will not be your fault that death comes.” Once again, she was reminded how soft his upbringing had been, how kind his world and time. A world where parents’ greatest fears for their children were that they might not excel, where wars were fought reluctantly and far away. “My lord, death is always how our story ends.” She tilted her head and smiled, just a little, even if he didn’t look to see it. “Some of us are fortunate enough to get an addendum, that’s all.”

His head came up at last. “That’s different,” he complained.

“If you say so, my lord,” she said deferentially, which made him look mildly exasperated through his distress.

“It is! It’s different because I’ll be the one that failed them.” He bit his lip. “I’m not up for this, Ushi! I’m not… enough. Whatever it is that’s needed, I’m not it. Compared to you, or Mash, or really anyone here, I’m the weak link. Dr. Roman would be a better Master than I am. I barely hung on for Tiamat, I was so far over my head… If Gilgamesh hadn’t been there calling the shots, we’d have died right there.”

Ushi tsked. “Being outdone by the King of Heroes is scarcely a sign of being a failure. Besides, my lord, that’s not what you’re here for. Da Vinci and Roman can come up with the plans, and any number of us can wage the war. Your purpose is different.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the rumpled bed. “I guess as long as nobody asks more than me being a paperclip -“

She interrupted him with an annoyed sound, refusing to put up with his self-effacing nonsense after everything he’d accomplished. If he was going to trust her after the travails of the past few days, then he would have to put up with her telling him to trust himself, again. “Whining does not become you, my lord.”

“I thought you gave up telling me what a lord should do,” he said, with more despondency than bite.

Ushi held back a frustrated reply. Calming herself, she took a knee before him to look him in the eye. “Do you know what the purpose of a lord is? Do you know why I would choose to serve one?”

Slowly, Ritsuka shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean. I guess… honor?” He looked confused. That was all right. It was better than the despair that had leaked into his expression before. 

“A lord’s purpose is to take a world of devils and squabbling priests and warring armies and make it make sense. Not explain it - I don’t believe anyone can do that - but to sort it out. To be the arrow of the compass for those who follow them. One solid, worthy thing to hold onto amid the chaos and tragedy, so that when all else fails, they can remember their purpose.”

“I… I still don’t understand.”

“The tengu craft excellent weapons, the courtiers said. They called me a sword with no sheath, and wondered what I would do when there were no more wars to fight.” Ushi drew her sword, armored against the memories by the way he leaned forward to hear her and not away from her bared sword, one more sign of trust. Usumidori gleamed as she turned it in her hands, the harsh fluorescent light bent to the soft glow of steel by the blade’s finish. “They were foolish. A sword is a weapon for a person to wield. It has no agenda, no cause of its own. Gods or laws or moral codes, I never saw much worth fighting for in any of them. But I could fight for my brother against the world and be content, just as I can fight for you against this King of Mages.”

“Why?” There seemed to be a lot of emotion packed into his one whispered word.

She waited to answer until he looked up from her blade, and held his eyes so that he could see the simple truth in hers when she spoke. “Because to fight for someone’s sake is an offering. An act of devotion.”

“Devotion, huh?” he said slowly, not looking away. The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You sure your devotion isn’t wasted on someone like me?”

Ushi nodded once. “There is no one I would rather fight for than you. I am proud to be in your service. I am proud of what we’ve done, and of what you are trying to accomplish. If we fail tomorrow, and the world fails with us, I will still be proud. I have no regrets, my lord.”

The smile’s ghost came back, looking almost alive this time. “...You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I do. I never wanted a sheath, my lord,” she said simply. “I only ever wanted to be wielded by a hand I could trust.”

“Trust,” he said, and looked away, blinking. “So it… doesn’t bother you if your lord isn’t a great general or warrior?”

She laughed with genuine amusement as she slid Usumidori back into its sheath. “No, my lord. That’s what vassals are for!”

That drew a chuckle out of him, weak as it was, and a little of the tension went out of his shoulders. She counted it a victory. “Okay. I just… Okay. Yeah. That… actually helps,” he stammered, sounding uncertain and relieved. More steadily, he finished, “Thank you.”

She gave a short, earnest bow, glad to see his spirits rising, and proud she’d been the one to help him. “You are welcome, my lord!”

He let out a chuckle and looked surprised that he’d made such a happy sound. After a second, his smile got wider. “Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you're here?” he asked, with the first note of genuine happiness she’d heard in his voice for days.

“Ah…” The smile slipped from her face. “No, my lord.”

“Well, I am. You really are…” He bit his lip and stopped.

After a few seconds of waiting, she averted her eyes and fidgeted a little. “You…” She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to -”

Ritsuka’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “No! I do. I really do. And you deserve more than just the first thing that came to mind, it was… it wasn’t what I meant to say. Just, uh… give me a second.”

I can’t say what I mean to say, a voice sung in her head. She pursed her lips, putting the song out of her mind - again - as she waited for him to collect his thoughts.

Even if she wanted to know what that first thought was, now...

Ritsuka looked down at the floor, around the room, anywhere but at her. When he finally spoke, his words came in fits and starts. “I don’t… have a lot that I can believe in, right now. I'm supposed to be holding the world together, somehow, but everything I was certain of about the world is wrong. The line between life and death has holes you could toss a demon boar through. Violating linear time is a job requirement. The - the sky’s literally falling!” he exclaimed, speaking faster and sharper. “In a day or two, there isn’t going to be a tomorrow!”

Then he stopped and let out a breath, draining a little tension from his shoulders. “But you…” He met her eyes as he went on. “You remind me that even if I can’t count on the world to make sense anymore, I can count on people, as long as they just... decide they can be counted on. I know you’re on my side, because you said you’d be, and that’s enough for you. Even if I can’t count on there being a tomorrow, I can count on you.”

Ushi felt her face go samurai-impassive, her only defense against what she was feeling.

“You’ve been there for me, whenever I needed you, since the moment we met. You swore you'd serve with all your heart, and you have. You make me want to live up to that service. I don't know if I can manage that,” Ritsuka said, his voice starting to sound rough, “but if I can, then maybe the sky won't have to fall after all. I just -”

“My lord.” Ushi cut him off. Her chest was so tight she could barely get the words out.

Ritsuka stammered for a second and gave her an abashed look. “Sorry. That must have sounded kind of… over the top.”

Ushi stared silently back at him, thoughts spinning like a pinwheel in a storm. She’d always liked being praised, perhaps more than was good for her. But that wasn’t praise. Praise was what people gave when you did something they wanted. Praise was the pat on the head for the hunting hound, the toast from courtiers who wanted a sharp edge to kill their enemies but considered the blade itself a burden.

“Ushi?”

What could you call it when someone asked nothing of you except what you’d do gladly anyway, and then said it was something they desperately hoped to deserve? Certainly not something as trite as praise.

“Ushi, uh, say something, please.”

Abruptly, the tightness in her chest was gone. “My lord, I have changed my mind,” she said, very seriously. “I have decided what my wish is.”

“Uh… Good…?” Ritsuka didn’t seem like he was following.

That was fine. Her lord had enough to deal with already, and he was going to need everything he had tomorrow. She would not be another complication for him so close to the end of the road.

Afterward, though, complications were something she was no longer going to shy away from.

“It doesn’t matter right now.” Ushi tilted her head and smiled at him, wondering if he could see the promise in it. Amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “When we return from this last expedition, perhaps I will tell you what it is.” He would return from it. Both of them would. She would make sure of it.

Ritsuka smiled back, tentatively at first, then more firmly. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, just watching each other. There was a tension in the air, but a strangely comfortable one. An acknowledgment that whatever was between them was unfinished, without the need to hurry it - not even for the end of the world.

Ushi broke the silence as she leaned forward, holding his eyes. “My lord, tomorrow, we shall save this world from the King of Mages, once and for all.” She tapped his forehead with a fingertip and gently pushed. “But tonight, you should stop and sleep. You’re only human, after all.”

Chuckling softly, Ritsuka didn’t resist, falling back onto his bed. “Okay.” He kept smiling at her as he closed his eyes. “Good night, Ushi. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, my lord.”

She had turned for the door when she heard him quietly say, “Ushi…”

She paused. “My lord?”

“Stay?” he asked, even more quietly.

Not quite sure she’d heard right, she didn’t move for a heartbeat, five, ten. Then, feeling a strange mix of awkwardness and daring, she sat next to him at the head of the bed.

“Thanks.” Without opening his eyes, Ritsuka shifted sideways and leaned against her side, head on her shoulder. Ushi bit her lip. Before she could fully take in her situation, his breathing became more regular. After a few seconds, he began to gently snore.

It briefly crossed her mind that she was in a position a number of other Servants would literally kill to be in, or in some cases, kill her for being in. Well, they could try, as long as they didn’t wake Ritsuka. He’d finally relaxed, and she wasn’t going to put up with anything bothering him until morning. Especially not since that would mean he’d stop leaning against me, she thought.

He’d been worried he’d bothered her when he said that someone worthy of her service could save the world. Bothered her, when until that moment she hadn’t recognized how desperately she’d wanted someone to believe in her like that. To have faith not in her strength, but in her integrity. To say not that she was useful, but that she was worthy.

She felt her eyes sting and her throat tighten. Something old and gnarled in her was loosening, like a badly-healed scar that was suddenly stretched in just the right way. It hurt, and she wasn’t sure what might come loose with it. She couldn’t escape the wounds of a lifetime; they were with her no matter what age she’d been conjured at.

It felt so good to have it loosen, though, even just a little.

Ushi shut her eyes, squeezing out tears. Unbecoming, her brother would have said; Kiichi would’ve laughed and called them unnecessary. She supposed they were both right, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Sitting back in the bed, feeling the rise and fall of Ritsuka’s breathing, she smiled in pure vindication and settled herself to wait for dawn.

Chapter Text

Content Warning: Brief first-person description of suicide

Stop The Sky From Falling

Kur, Underworld of Babylonia, some day

Deep in the bowels of the Underworld of Kur, in the central chamber of the dark Temple of Ereshkigal, Ushiwakamaru dropped to her knees and genuflected before its queen’s looming throne. “You called for me, Goddess, and I have come.” Her unflinching voice was a sharp counterpoint to the soft, ceaseless wailing and chain-rattling of the caged spirits that dangled in the darkness.

Ereshkigal gazed down at her from her perch on the throne. The huge black slab of a seat should have looked too large for the prim little goddess, but she sat in it with such unconcern that instead it served as a reminder that she was far grander than she appeared. “Good, you’re here,” she said. “I have determined that you are due additional punishment.”

If Ushiwakamaru were still a newcomer to Kur, that statement would have worried her more.

When she’d found herself drawn into the Babylonian Underworld after her defeat at Uruk instead of simply being returned to the Throne of Heroes, Ushiwakamaru had felt… well, not afraid as such. Definitely not! But she had been… concerned. Dreary darkness aside, the spiked iron cages hanging everywhere in the caverns implied a certain degree of vindictiveness on the part of its queen. What was worse, Ushiwakamaru had to admit that her brief but memorable bout of omnicidal mania had probably earned her quite the punishment.

Not that it had been her idea in the first place! Mostly.

Deserved or not, Ushiwakamaru had not been looking forward to an eternity of darkness and torment. However, she quickly learned that Ereshkigal’s idea of perdition was not so terrible as all that. She couldn’t have said whether she’d been in Kur for days or decades, but the worst that had happened so far was that she’d been the subject of repeated mild beratement by Ereshkigal, alongside the occasional order to help hang a cage in a hard-to-reach place, or patrol the shore of the Abyss for spirits about to wander over the edge before they could be safely caged.

Sometimes she had to fight off the uncomfortable feeling that she ought to be treated worse in her afterlife.

Either way, her fate was entirely in Ereshkigal’s hands, and Ushiwakamaru resolved to bear whatever punishment was given to her with grace. With a sharp bow of the head, she said, “If that is your judgement, Goddess, then of course I accept it!”

“Is that so?” Ereshkigal shifted in her seat, trying not to look surprised. “Well… good. It’s nice to see you know your place.”

“May I ask what my punishment is to be?”

“You may.” Despite Ereshkigal’s quick reply, she didn’t seem to be quite so ready to answer. She drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne before going on. “Under ordinary circumstances, the aid I already rendered to the travelers from Chaldea would be all that I could do for them. After all, they operate out of a time long past the age where we gods can affect the world directly.” Her voice firmed. “But Solomon, the one who caused all this trouble, operates from a location outside of time. When Chaldea confronts him, I will be able to assist them without straining causality… too much.”

By the time she was done explaining, Ushiwakamaru’s eyes had gone wide. “You are going to Chaldea’s aid?”

“I am!” Ereshkigal pouted - adorably, in Ushiwakamaru’s opinion. “Well, you are.”

“Goddess…” Ushiwakamaru tried to think of a good response. Preferably a good response that would not require her to encounter the people she’d tried to betray and murder. “I am not sure I am worthy to give them aid.”

“Of course you’re unworthy! You tried to kill him!” Ereshkigal snapped, then leaned back and composed herself. “Admittedly, you humans always treat death as much more terrible than it really is, but it’s the principle of the thing! So, you must be punished. I think this is more fitting than the old meathooks-and-flaying penalty... Though I might be convinced to revive it if Sister continues crowing about how she’s going to go kill all his enemies herself in person - really, she just likes rubbing it in! Such a b…” The Queen of Kur cleared her throat daintily. “Such a bother.”

“At any rate, you and your friend the monk shall represent me. I will merely deliver you to the battlefield and then return here.” The goddess looked distressed at that, but she quickly mastered herself. “You will remain to assist Chaldea to the best of your ability. Once you have accomplished that… your punishment will be complete, and you need only return here if you wish.”

Changing the subject away from Ereshkigal’s sister seemed like a good idea. “Why wouldn’t you go to help them, Goddess? Don’t you want to see him again?” The goddess’s crush on the Master of Chaldea was blatant enough that Ushiwakamaru suspected even the spectral gallu handmaidens knew about it, and from what she could tell they were barely sapient.

“Of course I do.” Ereshkigal blushed even as she straightened in her stony seat. She tried for a stoic tone and came very close to pulling it off. “But I’d have thought that would be the sort of problem you’d understand. My mandate is to maintain the sanctity of the Underworld, not to use it as a trap for the Mother Goddess, no matter the reasons. I let my desires interfere with my duty, and not even I am beyond punishment.” She raised her chin. “Punishment takes many forms. Yours is to go and assist those whom you harmed. Mine is to hold myself back from those I want to help.”

With only the briefest pause, Ushiwakamaru nodded. “It shall be as you say, Goddess.” What other reply could she make?

* * *

The Temple of Time, December 31, 2018

Ushiwakamaru wasn’t sure whether she’d been fighting for hours or days. There was no sun here, no moon; the space outside of time was lit only by the circling ring of Solomon’s light bands, dimming the stars above them and casting the landscape below into a harsh twilight like a noonday eclipse. Occasionally, the bleak landscape was brightened by the brief meteor-light of another Heroic Spirit arriving from above, but new arrivals were coming fewer and farther between.

Sinking her blade yet again into an enormous demonic tentacle, Ushiwakamaru reflected that her mission seemed very much in keeping with the Queen of Kur’s idiosyncratic idea of punishment: a chore, rather than a torment. All she’d done since landing on this eldritch island out of time was fight the same dozen or so magic-spewing, curse-bellowing tentacles, and it was beginning to be a bore. Still, a duty was a duty, and her atonement was not complete until she’d done everything she could. She had been found wanting last time, and she would not allow that to happen more than once.

Slaying the horrors over and over served two distinct purposes: keeping them away from the Master of Chaldea so they didn’t kill him, and keeping her away from the Master of Chaldea so she didn’t need to figure out how to apologize to him. It was a shame that Ereshkigal had removed herself from the battle - unlike her sister, who could occasionally be heard cackling as she continued her strafing runs - but at least that meant there was no one there to reprimand her. There was just her, her sword, and a war that needed to be won, and she had never found those conditions to be troublesome.

And at least there weren’t any Lahmu there. On second thought, she decided that was sort of a shame. It would have been cathartic to cut her way through them, and if anything in history needed slaying, it was Lahmu. No, on third thought, if she never had to see another Lahmu again, it would be too soon.

The Pillar she was engaged with roared something in a basso-profundo voice. Usumidori whirled in her hands, deflecting another volley of whatever awful magic this thing was spitting at her. She couldn’t be bothered to analyze it; if she didn’t let it hit her, it didn’t matter, did it? Compared to the likes of, say, Gorgon-Tiamat, she found the Demon God Pillars lacking. They were dangerous in their overwhelming strength, but dull and predictable in their self-assurance and the complacency that came from knowing they’d return to life shortly after being slain. They definitely didn’t enjoy dying, given how they moaned when it happened. Too bad for them. Still, most of them seemed to regard fending off an army of Heroic Spirits as something like pest control, rather than a real danger.

Her musing amid the violence was interrupted by a voice as familiar as her own - exactly as familiar as her own - shouting, “Oi! You! I would have words with you!”

Eyes widening at the sound, Ushiwakamaru cursed internally. Ereshkigal spoke true; punishment did indeed take many forms. Her mouth worked for a second before she managed to reply. “I am somewhat occupied at the moment!” she called back, steadfastly not looking away from her battle.

Another blade blurred beside hers, cleaving deep into the monstrosity, and the tentacle thrashed one last time before it sizzled away into thick, foul-smelling smoke. As the cloud dissipated, it revealed her own face glaring at her, above black-lacquered armor that her current Spirit Origin lacked. “Don’t pretend that you can’t talk and fight at the same time!”

Ushiwakamaru quickly glanced around, but the other girl’s Master was nowhere to be seen. “What are you doing here?”

The Chaldean version of her folded her arms. “It was you, wasn’t it.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

Ushiwakamaru let out an exasperated breath. This was not a conversation she desired to have with herself. “Don’t you have a duty to your Master to be about?” It was a weak play, doomed to failure, and Ushiwakamaru knew it as well as her accuser did.

Her double gave her a scornful look. “Mash and the others are perfectly capable of protecting my lord for a few minutes while we have a discussion about your failings, as long as we do our part to keep these monstrosities occupied. Unless you intend to slack off?”

“Of course not!” The gall of herself! Then and there she decided that she was Ushiwakamaru, scion of the Genji, and she was only going to think of this Chaldean version of her as Shana-O. If she was going to be an irritant, she could be known by the name she’d used at Kurama when she’d spent half her time deliberately driving the monks to distraction. Of course, it wasn’t a real distinction - she was still Shana-O as surely as she was Ushiwakamaru - but she was irked enough not to care in the moment.

Her decision did not change the way the Chaldean girl glared at her. “Well then? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ugh. Just because she’d spent a few days trying to kill everyone and everything didn’t mean her other self had to come and chastise her about it. Had Ereshkigal set this up somehow just to make sure her punishment was real? Hopefully the loathsome demonic tentacle grew back quickly so it could distract them.

“...Very well, yes. It was me. The Queen of Kur took me in instead of releasing me to the Throne.” Ushiwakamaru wasn’t actually sure how that had happened, and Ereshkigal was not forthcoming about it, but like most mysticism the how of it was beyond her concerns. It was enough that it had happened, and she would rather be useful to someone than return to the Throne with nothing to show for it save shame.

Shana-O nodded once, mouth pursing like she’d bitten a yuzu. “Given your record, why should we trust you to help at all?”

From well behind her, Kaison - the same one who’d accompanied her from Kur - ventured, “Lord Yoshitsune… er, my lords… surely we should all work together. After all, we are here for the same -”

Still glaring daggers at each other, their voices snapped in unison. “Quiet, fool!”

The big man froze like a rabbit, then selected a huge tentacle monster that was significantly farther away - nearly out of sight, in fact - and charged off towards it, his war cry suspiciously quiet and unobtrusive.

Her counterpart cut her eyes sideways to watch him go. “So he didn’t return to the Throne either.” She snorted. “He, at least, might deserve to have gone back unpunished.”

“I asked him to remain,” Ushiwakamaru admitted reluctantly. “I could hardly not, given the circumstances. I was worried that I might… need his assistance again.” Tiamat’s taint might have been stripped from her, but corruption or no corruption, the reasons for her fury remained the same. In the moment, deciding to act on them had felt less like liberation and more like ceasing to lie to herself.

Shana-O regarded her with a mixture of wariness and reluctant empathy, and Ushiwakamaru was suddenly struck by how odd it felt to have someone understand her so deeply. If it had been someone else, she might have appreciated it, but of course, it had to come at the most frustrating possible time, and from the most infuriating possible source - herself. “I suppose ‘Benkei’ might finally have found a way to make his presence worthwhile, if he could stop you from disgracing yourself even more than you already had,” the other girl declared.

Ushiwakamaru gaped at her, but before she could decide on a retort, the stony floor between them erupted in flesh. Once again, the enormous pillar of armored hide, eyes, and muscle streamed out of the stony path and lurched skyward. As it reached for the starry void above, it grew to tower over them like a prophecy of death. Its magic made the air shudder; its dreadful, reverberating voice spoke threats of agony and doom.

Frankly, Ushiwakamaru couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the obnoxious thing’s ranting the first time, let alone now. Instead, she danced away from it, drawing her sword, and snapped back to her interfering other self, “I know he did! I am aware that my behavior was shameful! I keep telling you, I came here to make what amends I could!” She vented her frustration by darting up to the reborn Demon God Pillar before it had even begun to attack, unleashing a flurry of vicious cuts that made the tentacle roar in surprise and pain and sent ichor flying. “Oh, shut up, you!” she snarled at it, laying into it again.

“Oh, you are aware of the issue, are you?” The Chaldean launched her own attacks on the Pillar as well. If anything, her cuts were more furious than Ushiwakamaru’s own, and the vile monstrosity reeled back, shuddering as it tried to regrow what she assumed were necessary bits. Shana-O shot Ushiwakamaru a look of disgust. “Are you aware that I had to apologize to my lord for your behavior?”

Despite herself, Ushiwakamaru paused, wincing. “How bad was it?”

Unexpectedly, the Chaldean girl flushed. “That… That doesn’t matter! If it turned out to be less than dreadful, it was only due to my lord’s forgiving nature!”

Ahhh, there it was. A snort of amusement escaped her. “And also due to his infatuation with you?”

The Chaldean’s cheeks reddened, and she fumed silently without looking up for a second or two, then let out a piercing shout and carved her way through the tentacle again, just as it lurched back upright. This time, everything above the cut fell like an enormous tree, dissipating into brimstone and red sparks as it toppled. As the stump flailed around in fury and pain, she regarded it instead of looking Ushiwakamaru in the eyes. “Any feelings he has for me had nothing to do with the outcome of our discussion,” the other girl said, still blushing. “How would you know anyway?”

There was no way to keep a smirk off of her face. “I was watching you two quite closely in Uruk. If even I can tell he was preoccupied with you, it must be quite something.”

“It doesn’t matter. He has been entirely proper about it!”

Ushiwakamaru frowned. “Entirely?”

“Yes!”

“...You have my sympathy,” she said sincerely.

Her counterpart glowered. “I do not wish to speak of it. Certainly not with you.”

Now it was Ushiwakamaru’s turn to snort. “Who else are you going to speak to about it? Kaison?” Both of them made identical ‘oh hell no’ faces.

“Just because you lack confidants doesn’t mean that I am without them,” the Chaldean snapped. “Besides, I have no intention of letting that situation stay as it is.” That was a bold enough declaration that Ushiwakamaru almost approved.

Before she could respond, the stump of their foe rallied again, regrowing part of its mass into a spread of smaller tentacles. It roared and thrashed and barraged them with magic. Wordlessly, they separated, turning and twisting between its strikes, cutting at it in tandem every time it left an opening, one blade cutting when another had to parry. It was easy, almost natural. Ushiwakamaru did not enjoy working together with herself, but she had to admit it was effective.

And then, because it was funny, and because it was true, and because it was the end of the world, and also because, justified or not, Ushiwakamaru did not at all appreciate this other version of herself taking time out of saving the world to chide her, she waited until Shana-O was in the middle of a complicated aerial dodge before she said, smirking, “I still don’t understand what’s so special about him, but after seeing him in that skintight outfit, I will admit that your Master has a nice ass.”

Her counterpart nearly botched her landing, her head turning to face her so fast that her long tail of hair actually cracked like a whip. Cheeks blazing red, she yelled, “How dare you try to assassinate my lord and then admit to ogling -“ A swinging tentacle blindsided her in her distraction and sent her bouncing across the temple stones.

Ushiwakamaru laughed, possibly a bit harder than was warranted. It had been a little mean-spirited of her, she supposed, but she had a hard time caring. She just couldn’t seem to get along with herself very well. As the Pillar reared over Shana-O, Ushiwakamaru stepped forward and cut decisively - once, twice, thrice. For what had to have been the hundredth time, the Pillar froze, toppled, and once more burst into noxious vapor.

As Ushiwakamaru sheathed her sword in satisfaction, Shana-O leapt to her feet. She wiped blood from her lip and fixed Ushiwakamaru with the sort of empty look she reserved for an enemy she was about to kill. “I see you have not finished turning on your allies.”

Unworried, Ushiwakamaru let out another laugh, this one short and sharp. “Who do you think Kiichi would have scolded? Me for taunting you, or you for falling for it?”

Shaken from her anger, the Chaldean tried to pretend not to be taken aback. Rallying, she snapped, “You of all people have no right to taunt me about my lord, betrayer.”

Ushiwakamaru recoiled. Never, never in her life had that word been justified, though it had cut deep every time her brother used it. Now, though... Ushiwakamaru found herself staring sullenly at the cracked marble at her feet, trying with all her heart not to believe the epithet was accurate, and failing. “Perhaps you’re right. But…” She cut her eyes toward her counterpart without raising her head. “How do you think your story with him will end? Isn’t trying to stay close to him a betrayal, too?”

Without hesitation, the other girl replied, “I would never harm him!”

Turning further, she gave Shana-O a long, serious look. “You don't have to want to harm him for him to be harmed.”

“Never!” The word came out more like a desperate oath than a statement of fact.

She clenched her teeth in irritation. Why would this besotted idiot not listen to what they both knew was true? “Did you live a life that wasn’t mine? Of those we cared for, how many came to a good end?”

The Chaldean refused to look back at her. “Kiichi turned out fine,” she started.

Ah, so that’s what it was like to be the one listening to herself make feeble excuses. Ushiwakamaru cut her off before she could continue. “The fate of the King of the Tengu is hardly fit to measure others against! What of the rest? Mother was left behind with Kiyomori. Yoritomo turned the nation against us. Noriyori was executed, like our brothers, like Father!” With each name, she took a step toward her counterpart, feeling the resentment seethe in her. Shana-O didn’t back away, but each name made her flinch. “At least Hidehira-sama died in bed, before he had to watch his sons kill each other to betray us! Kaison fled to save his worthless skin, and left Suzuki and Kamei and the other loyal ones to die at the walls. Benkei died standing at the bridge. And Shizuka -”

“Don’t!” Shana-O’s voice cracked with anguish.

Her mouth snapped shut. Fair enough, she didn’t want to speak of Shizuka’s fate either. If there was one person she could have spared… Instead, she tried again. “I am trying to help you both! Apart from Kiichi, how many of those we loved survived without turning on us? Who was spared from the fate we brought them? Come, count them with me! Name them!”

Silence was her counterpart’s only reply, which was appropriate. After all, there were no names to be counted.

Of all the parts of this unwanted conversation, she didn’t want to have this part the most. But how else was she supposed to help? How else was she supposed to stop her other self from repeating their tragedy? Yoshitsune’s last memory flickered before her mind’s eye, kneeling alone in a room as her friends died fighting for her outside. Her hands clenched on air, feeling her own hands holding the knife in her gut, covered in her own blood. She remembered the last thought they’d had before the darkness overtook her.

‘I must have deserved it, somehow.’

“I… “ The other girl swallowed, but with an obvious effort forced her fears down and took on a resolute look. Ushiwakamaru couldn’t decide whether that was admirable or regrettable. “No. I will do whatever I must to keep misfortune from my lord, I swear it, but I will not abandon him. He promised he would let me fight alongside him until the end. So I shall.”

Stung in a way she couldn’t quite articulate, Ushiwakamaru gestured at the panorama around them. All there was to see was a bizarre hellscape of warring monsters, lit only by the apocalypse waiting in the sky. A few remaining hero-stars blazed as they fell, as if struggling to outshine Solomon’s sky-spanning halo, but it was clear that more help was unlikely to arrive. “Then you had best leave me alone and hurry to him, for this seems very much like the end!”

Shana-O tilted her head back and looked up at the doom circling over their heads. Ushiwakamaru couldn’t be sure, but the ring of light seemed to be spinning faster, as if gathering speed for some final, ominous purpose. Despite that, as the Chaldean girl stared at the sky the worry slowly faded from her face, replaced with a strange, smiling confidence which Ushiwakamaru didn’t understand. “...No. It is not the end. My lord will stop the sky from falling,” the other girl said, more to herself than anyone else. Then, still smiling, she dropped her head to look Ushiwakamaru in the eye. “And he shall need me at his side when he does.”

Without another word, or even a glance to spare for her, the Chaldean dashed off down the twisting Temple paths, presumably after her Master. Ushiwakamaru watched her go, struggling not to feel resentment. To have such faith in her lord, even knowing it would all end in tears… “Lucky,” she muttered.

A rumbling from beneath heralded the Pillar’s regrowth, shoving aside the ruin of the previous one as it crashed through the floor. She closed her eyes against the shower of rubble as she turned to face it. When she opened them again, she gave the towering thing a smile in which humor and bitterness warred.

In the end, the humor won, if barely. “You again!? Hah! At least some fortune is still with me as well! I have much to atone for, and envy in my heart, so it would be ill luck indeed to run short of foes to vent my frustration on!” Blade in hand, she cast all her troubles and uncertainty out of her mind, and let her world narrow back down to the foe in front of her, as she had so many times before. On the battlefield, at least, there was no need for regret. “So, monster, stretch out what passes for your neck once more!”

* * *

Mash leaned on her shield and tried to catch her breath. Despite Galahad’s Spirit Core bolstering her, hours of nonstop fighting had left her feeling drained. She was glad Ritsuka’s team had the opportunity to take even a brief break, because they were going to need everything they had once they got moving again.

The Pillars were still fighting behind them, but she, Ritsuka, and the team of Chaldean Servants had finally broken past all of Solomon’s demonic defenses, all of the horrible ranting tentacular monstrosities. The Heroic Spirits who’d come to their aid had done enough damage that Da Vinci was showing the bounded fields that had protected Solomon’s Throne to be cracked enough to slip through.

She could see it now. Ahead of them, somehow both above and below the tangled geometries of the Temple, was an alabaster dais, and on it a throne that stretched toward the sky. Even from this distance, she could see the red-robed figure seated there. It was too far to read the expression on Solomon’s face, but she was sure he was watching them with eyes full of empty intensity. She’d seen that face in her dreams, expressionless, yet somehow hiding some deep well of emotion she didn’t understand then even as it asked her why she didn’t fear death.

The vision she’d seen while Rayshifting in had helped her understand it. Century upon century of human misery, seen by a perfect Clairivoyance that couldn’t turn away from it, would have been enough to drive anyone mad. To experience every human death, every moment of loss and pain for more than two thousand years… If Solomon had ever had a human perspective, he couldn’t possibly have held onto it through that. He was a repository for all the misery of the human race, and she pitied him as much as she feared him.

Trying to turn her mind from those morose thoughts, she watched Ritsuka as he straightened up from a quiet consultation with Blavatsky. Once again, he glanced back down the Temple path towards the still-raging war against the Pillars. He hadn’t spent a minute without looking since Ushi had left.

“You know we can’t wait much longer, Master,” Blavatsky said, gesturing toward the circling bands of light. “They’re moving much faster now.”

“She’s never let me down,” Ritsuka replied. “She won’t do it now. She’ll be back in time.”

Blavatsky just gave him a knowing look.

Ritsuka checked in with the rest of his team one after another. d’Eon and Kiritsugu both gave the expected quiet, stoic responses, and he moved on to talk to Heracles, muttering something to the titanic hero as if he was expecting an intelligible response. The sight of him patting the Berserker on the hip because it was as high as he could comfortably reach should have been comical. Heracles’ glower didn’t change, but she would have sworn she saw him straighten a little.

Then he was clapping her on the shoulder, looking weary but still determined. “How are you holding up, Mash?” From anyone else she would’ve taken that as a question about whether her rapidly declining condition was catching up to her. From him, it just seemed like he wanted to make sure she was feeling all right.

It was enough to fluster her. She’d seen it before, but it always amazed her how he could just… connect with people, Servants or not. He let them see that he cared, and they couldn’t help but respond. Whoever had designed the Master candidate screening must have been a genius, because she couldn’t imagine the Animuspheres selecting someone like him on purpose, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else doing what he did. He really was an admirable senpai.

And maybe a bit more than that. She couldn’t deny that she felt something for him that wasn’t quite within the expected bounds of a Master-Servant bond, or for that matter a junior-senior relationship. He was an easy boy to… well, to like. Maybe if things had been different, they’d be closer. As it was, it seemed unlikely she was going to have time to find out. The thought left her feeling lonely, despite being surrounded by friends.

“I’m fine, Master. But Blavatsky is right. We need to get -”

A shout came from back down the path. “My lord! I have returned!”

There was something in the way Ritsuka turned to look instantly that made Mash the tiniest bit jealous. Just a little.

As Ushiwakamaru came to a halt before him, he said, “I’m glad you’re back. Did you finish your business? Everything… settled?” Ushi hadn’t mentioned specifics, and no one had asked, but everyone there had seen her other self fighting in the distance, just like everyone there knew where she had gone.

“Yes, my lord! It began quite poorly, but it ended up being a very satisfying conversation. ” Ushi did seem even more vibrantly confident than usual, which was really saying something. “We may be the same person, but I am your Servant, and she is not. And I much prefer being me.”

Ritsuka waved at the winding path up to the alabaster throne at the Temple’s pinnacle, and the distant figure sitting in it. “Even when we’re about to walk into that?”

Ushi simply smiled. “You know how much I like a challenge.”

Ritsuka laughed aloud, seeming more heartened by the simple response than was reasonable. The two of them smiled at each other for just a moment too long.

Almost to her surprise, Mash found herself smiling too.

Moments like those were why she was fighting. Because no matter how desperate things were, no matter how certain their deaths were - and they were certain, tomorrow or the next day or a hundred years from now - there was always, every second, the chance for a moment like this one to happen. It might happen to her. It might happen to her friend. It might happen to the boy she admired. It might happen to one of a billion people she’d never meet.

That was the Human Order. The legends she’d learned by heart were the jewels and embroidery, and the grand events that changed the world forever were the seams, but the fabric of the Foundation of Humanity was woven of ten thousand years of the small moments of meaning humans built between each other. Moments did not have to be momentous to be worthwhile. They all meant something.

Of course, she was going to die soon, win or lose. If not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then before the week was out. The only sign so far was a faint reluctance in her muscles, and a desire to lie down and rest that was more than balanced out by her desire to make the most of every last second.

Ritsuka looked around at his Servants, one after another. “Okay then! Anyone else got any last-minute business to take care of? Because we’re getting pretty close to a literal last minute here.”

Speaking of making the most of every second… If she really did feel jealous, then maybe… Maybe she could just hint at it? It really might be a last minute, especially for her. Gathering her courage, Mash started, “Senpai…”

Ritsuka turned to her with that unguarded look he gave everyone he trusted. “Yeah, Mash?”

She stopped and looked, really looked at him. She saw how his body was still turned, just a little, towards Ushi, how unconsciously aware of her he was. Saw how his smile had firmed up since Ushi had come back, how it was just a little more real now that she’d said she preferred being his Servant. Remembered how he’d finally gotten to sleep the night before with her help.

Ritsuka was her best friend, always supportive, always doing everything he could for her and everyone around him. He was her senpai, the person she looked to to learn what it meant to be human, to be a person who lived in the world and cared about the people in it. She knew he cared about her, too. But he already had a partner.

So she smiled back at him, and let go of the jealousy, let go of that dream. It hurt as it left, and she felt a little empty and sad, but a quiet pride rose up to fill in the space it left. She was Mash Kyrielight, Shielder of Chaldea, and she’d been battered worse than this. If she couldn’t deal with a bit of pain to do right by her friends and comrades, she wouldn’t be the kind of person she wanted to be in whatever time she had left.

Besides, she thought, lips quirking, I really don’t want to be more like Dad, do I? She thought she felt a pulse of irritable agreement from the Heroic Spirit within her.

Instead of saying what she’d intended to say, she put on her most serious face. “I think we’re all ready, Master.” It was true. Despite the weariness and the ever-present aches, she’d never felt more ready. Never felt more herself.

His smile grew a little. “C’mon, you know I prefer Senpai.”

Mash couldn’t help but match that smile. She might not be his favorite, but she was still her friend’s first Servant, and she would do him proud to the very end. She slammed her shield into the ground, making it ring like a bell. “Then let’s do it, Senpai.”

“Yes!” Ushi gave a fierce grin and nodded to her. Kiritsugu’s expression didn’t change, but he flicked his Contender’s breech shut with a sound that signaled readiness to fight more than any words could. d’Eon raised their blade in a graceful salute. Blavatsky left her book floating in front of her, laced her fingers together, and cracked her knuckles. Heracles threw back his head to look up the broken road to Solomon’s throne, and let out a defiant roar that shook the temple’s stones all the way down to the twisting flesh beneath.

“I think the big guy speaks for all of us,” Blavatsky said.

“That’s good enough for me, then.” Ritsuka said. He drew a breath, let it out, and started walking up the path toward the white throne. “Let’s go make sure there’s a tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

March 13, 2019

Ritsuka chanted over Mash’s shield as he had so many times before, sending a beacon out beyond the world from the isolated summoning chamber near the heart of Chaldea. Mash herself was standing by as she’d always done during summonings. She might not be able to fight like a Servant anymore, but her dedication remained awe-inspiring and possibly a little worrying. Her shield hadn’t left Chaldea’s summoning chamber for more than two months. It was starting to feel like a permanent fixture there, and Ritsuka wondered if she was okay with that, how she’d feel if the new staff decided to bolt it in place or something. He’d argue against it - it belonged to Mash if it belonged to anyone - but the newcomers from the Mages’ Association tended to treat him with wary derision - a pathetic excuse for a mage who somehow now outranked them and treated the living legends they walked the halls with like friends, instead of fantastically dangerous sapient magical weapons.

Ritsuka nearly shrugged in the middle of the ritual. Their loss, really.

“Here is my oath:
I shall uphold all the good of the world.
I shall stand against all the world’s evil.”

By now, the summoning ritual wasn’t the least bit unusual for him, but it still touched some kind of primal wonder as the lights flowed out from the ritual circle. Even on the twentieth try that day, when his magical circuits were starting to feel the strain. He was pretty sure he could recite the summoning formula in his sleep, and probably already had at some point, but when he felt the catch in his soul that meant someone had responded, it was hard to claim it wasn’t worth it. He’d never get tired of it.

"From the circle which guards the World,
Come forth, guardian of the balance!”

Golden light gathered itself atop Mash's shield, arranged itself into a humanoid form. Details resolved themselves from the floor up: dress shoes, pinstriped trousers, an ornate waistcoat, oh son of a bitch it’s him.

“Mash, call Holmes now,” Ritsuka said rapidly, feeling something akin to when he went into combat: Focus, clarity, and a little perfectly healthy dissociation to push his worries inside where they wouldn’t get in the way of survival. He took the couple of seconds he had left to take a deep, theoretically calming breath and try to put a neutral expression on his face. Was today the day that oath to stand against all the world’s evil came back to bite him? He was about to come face to face with some of it again, not a week after escaping Shinjuku by the skin of his teeth.

No. Calm down, Ritsuka. It’s going to be fine.

He’d never been worried about a summoning before. Intimidated, sure. Disgusted, occasionally, when Giles stuck his head out of the Throne and had the door slammed on him. Briefly scared when a Berserker showed up and bellowed at him. This was the first time he’d felt like the Servant summoning might be something to be apprehensive about, and he hoped it didn’t last.

The summoning light kept gathering into the shape of a person. A half-cloak with blue lining. Mechanized cane that doubled as a silenced airgun. A collar like butterflies taking flight. A pale, narrow face starting to show age lines, carefully-trimmed moustache, greying hair swept to the side. The new Servant’s merry, sardonic eyes were the last part of them to appear, already meeting Ritsuka’s eyes. A crooked grin spread on his crooked face. “You summoned me? Why, what a peculiar Master you must be!” he said with relish. “My Class is Archer. I shall hold off on revealing my True Name for now, but I am strong, that much I can guarantee!”

Despite his focus, Ritsuka wasn’t sure whether he wanted to smile at the audacity or frown at the potential for disaster. Instead, he held himself impassive as he watched the newly-arrived Servant, drumming his fingers against his thigh. One second, two seconds, three seconds, as the Archer's eyebrow slowly raised.

“Nope, can't do this your way. Hi, Archer. Please tell me my name.” Ritsuka didn’t call him Professor, or Moriarity. Whether or not he could actually fool the Servant, he’d rather not give away that they’d met before. A Moriarity who went through Shinjuku with him might be tolerable in Chaldea - with some precautions - but one who hadn’t would be poison, plain and simple. If he didn’t know Ritsuka, he had to be unsummoned immediately.

Those cheerful eyes twinkled; oh, what a friendly old fellow he was! “Do allow me to keep my True Name secret for now, Master.”

“No, I said my name,” Ritsuka replied with false calm. He took a moment to be grateful that he’d summoned Moriarity so soon, while the memories of the elaborate assassination attempt that was Shinjuku were so recent. His natural inclination was to err on the side of friendliness; if he’d had more time to get over it, it’d be much harder to stand his ground. Good thing he had all that fresh anxiety, right?

The new Servant chuckled, practically radiating good-natured confusion. “Well, Master, I'd have to be quite brilliant indeed to know the name of someone to whom I haven't been introduced yet…”

Ritsuka nodded thoughtfully, making sure not to drop his eyes. Uncertainty would look exploitable. “Yeah, you would be, wouldn’t you. Da Vinci, begin unsummoning protocol -” he started, raising his voice.

Moriarity’s facade of affable perplexity dissolved into laughter. “Ahaha! Oh, good show, Ritsuka my boy, very well done!” the Professor said quickly, glancing around as if expecting an attack. His expression was worried and proud and slyly ingratiating all at once. “Though I am a tiny bit hurt that you'd dispatch me so readily after all we've been through together!”

“Sorry, Professor. I had to know.” He wasn’t sorry at all - wasn’t letting himself feel sorry - and made sure not to sound it. He'd seen the flicker of calculation in Moriarity's eyes, seen him weigh the danger against the possible advantage, Ritsuka’s mercy against his wariness. It was a shame. He liked this wicked old man, just a little, even trusted him after the fallout from his plot. He just couldn’t let his guard down around him. Not yet, maybe not ever.

“Of course you did! And an excellent play it was. When you hold the upper hand, don’t hesitate to use it.” The damnable part of it was that Moriarity did seem genuinely proud, and something in Ritsuka responded to that, making him want to smile. He tried to quash the feeling and didn’t quite succeed.

There was a tapping sound from the observation window above, and both Ritsuka and Moriarity turned to see Sherlock Holmes looking down at them, one fingertip touching the glass. He clasped his hands behind his back and regarded Moriarity with a jaundiced eye, one articulated waldo holding a single magnifying glass in front of him like a monocle. After just long enough to make a point, the waldo folded itself back away into his overcoat, and the tall detective turned and left the window.

The meaning was not hard to discern.

“Ah. I see I am… preceded by my detractors.” Moriarity’s words were tinged with bitterness.  He lowered his voice. “I can’t blame you for being cautious about me, Master, but I do hope you have your eye on him as well. If only for fairness’ sake.” That last clause came with an indescribable tinge of irony.

Now that he’d established that he could be in control, Ritsuka felt a little better letting some of his wariness show instead of trying to control his expression so tightly. “I haven’t forgotten your lesson in not taking anything for granted, Professor,” he said wryly.

“That’s a good start, then,” Moriarity said, smiling despite the implication. “What’s next?”

“Senpai,” Mash said, looking between them, “you must need a break after all those summoning attempts. Why don’t I help the Professor find a room?” Whether she still had the strength of a Servant or not, the glare she was giving him showed no sign that she was intimidated. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Nah, we can both go,” Ritsuka said. Mash gave him an are you sure look, and Ritsuka gave her back a tiny smile and a nod. “Let’s show our new Archer around Chaldea.” Moriarity was going to be trouble, but keeping a lid on that sort of trouble was Ritsuka’s job, maybe even more than bumbling into Singularities and having his bodyguards knock them over.

It would be fine, he told his anxiety as they headed for the door. Better to have the evil mastermind on your side than the other way around.

Right?

* * *

Later that night, more than a dozen Servants stood, sat, or lounged on couches in one of Chaldea’s surviving rec rooms as they attended their Master, waiting to hear their fate.

Mash solemnly handed Ritsuka a piece of paper. He consulted the list on it, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Okay, the ballots are in: Four votes for Gladiator, three votes for The Lion King, one vote for Star Wars Episode IV, none for Seven Samurai - huh, didn’t expect that - three for Godzilla, four for Pride and Prejudice, and…” He sighed. “...only two for Pacific Rim. I guess my description didn’t do it justice.”

“I tried, Senpai,” Mash said apologetically. “It sounded like fun.”

“Well, Kintoki couldn’t make it tonight, so maybe it’s for the best. I think he’d dig that one. Okay, everyone, it looks like it’s a toss-up between Gladiator and Pride and Prejudice. Anyone have an actual coin to flip?” Caesar, Nero, and Marie’s clique looked excited at the results; the only one who looked truly disappointed was Blavatsky, who muttered something about wanting to see more movies with spaceships.

“Hang on,” Jing Ke said, sounding suspicious. “That’s seventeen votes. There’s only fourteen of us.”

“I gave Fou a ballot,” Mash piped up. From her shoulder, Fou made a quick sound of agreement.

A few Servants gave the beast sidelong looks, but Ritsuka just nodded as if that made sense. After Solomon’s Temple, he wasn’t going to be surprised by, or complain about, anything Fou did ever again. “That still leaves us with two extra.” He panned the room with a wry look. “Anyone want to come clean?” There were a lot of shaking heads, but he couldn’t tell which ones were innocent and which were hiding something. With a long-suffering sigh, he looked back down at the tally sheet, trying to guess who voted for what. Fortunately, second-guessing Servants was something he was practiced at.

“It seems as if the only way we’ll get to the bottom of this is seeing who voted for what,” said Amadeus, wearing a mischievous smile. “Not that I’m looking forward to knowing who voted for what at all.”

“These ballots were supposed to be secret,” Medea said, trying not to look anxious. “Why don’t we just vote again?”

Shakespeare laughed. “Some secrets you keep well, Witch of Colchis, but everyone here knows you chose The Lion King, just as I did!” There were nods all around, and Medea tried to make covering her face with her hands look like she was just massaging her forehead.

“Umu! Shakespeare was the third vote for that?” Nero asked.

“But of course! My own Hamlet, interpreted for children by singing African beasts? Absurd and delightful! How could I not cast my lot for it?”

Meanwhile, Ritsuka had come to a conclusion. “Gaius,” he said over the conversation. Talk quieted, and all eyes in the room turned to Caesar who, to his credit, didn’t flinch in the slightest. “Please tell me you didn’t vote twice. The instructions on the sheet explicitly say, ‘Do not vote twice’.” He tapped his finger on the sheet with each word for emphasis.

Full of well-practiced dignity, Caesar held up his right hand like a Roman orator. “Dear boy, I swear upon the honor of the noble gens Julia, I did not vote twice for this night’s movie selection!”

Ritsuka held the Servant’s eyes. He’d done the math. “You’re also not supposed to vote more than twice.”

“Ah, now, that is a matter for debate, Master! I say to you that it would not violate a single word of -”

“Nope, never mind, tie’s broken. Sorry, Nero, looks like Gladiator didn’t win,” Ritsuka said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He’d learned better than to let Caesar’s bullshit gather momentum. Give him half a minute to extemporize, and everyone in the room would be thinking maybe it was okay if Caesar blatantly ignored the rules as written because of semantics, and anyway democratic institutions sometimes needed to be overridden by the insight and brilliance of one great man with a vision, a vision for which movie everyone would enjoy the most…

Ignoring the background noise of Nero scolding her revered predecessor, Mash met Ritsuka’s eyes with the same resigned amusement he was feeling. “I’ll make sure the instructions are changed on next week’s sheet,” she said.

“Thanks, Mash. I’ll get Pride and Prejudice rolling.” It was a shame about the movie choice. Chaldea’s translation charm made watching foreign films effortless, but he’d really rather take advantage of it without resorting to British period dramas.

A few minutes later, the room had gone quiet again as the audience began their journey into the extremely repressed world of early 19th-century Britain. Ritsuka settled onto a couch next to Mash. Another issue had arisen with the movie: it wasn’t exciting enough to distract him from moment to moment. His eyes were on the screen but his mind was on other things, like the samurai whispering to Jing Ke at the snack table.

Just ask her out. You've asked out girls before.

Yes, because asking another freshman out to a movie was the same as attempting to start a romance with a reincarnated legendary samurai while stuck in a secret Antarctic base. Thank you, inner voice.

What’s the worst that could happen?

In Chaldea!? Did his inner voice even hear itself?

What does that change? Look how much time you’ve already wasted.

If he could glare at his inner voice, he would have. As it was, he was frowning at the screen as if Kiera Knightley had personally offended him. He’d been in mourning through January, thank you very much, and then he’d had to deal with the emotional fallout of suddenly getting a bunch of mail from his family all at once when the satellite link finally came back, and then he’d pulled Demon God Baal's trap card and got sent to Grimdark Neo-Tokyo. What was he supposed to have done?

It’s not about what you did, it’s about not making excuses to wait until something else interferes, you idiot. She’s important to you, right?

Well, yeah. Extremely. But that just made it -

He was so wrapped up in his internal argument that he didn’t notice that Mash had scooted out of the way until Ushiwakamaru vaulted the back of the couch and promptly sat in the spot she’d vacated. He gave Ushi a surprised glance and got a bright smile in return before she turned back to watch the movie, popcorn bag in hand. Thankfully, she’d dismissed her armor, but she was close enough that her flowing sleeves brushed against his arm when she moved, sending tingles all the way up to his shoulder. Her proximity took up so much of his attention that the movie screen might as well have been turned off.

Okay. Maybe his inner voice had a point.

Fortunately, he had been working out a plan. It was a simple plan whose most difficult part would have to be done by someone else, which was par for the course for him. He’d give it a shot tomorrow, he decided. Hopefully, da Vinci would come through for him.

* * *

March 14, 2019

Seeing da Vinci behind the Acting Director desk where Romani used to sit made Ritsuka’s chest twinge. She’d changed half of the decor but kept a surprising number of his personal effects - pictures on the walls, a keepsake or two, and some religious paraphernalia he didn’t know the names of, let alone the purpose. The furniture was the same but the space she’d made now housed a few gizmos, a technical drawing of a Rayshift coffin in a classic Renaissance style, and in pride of place on the wall, a small but beautiful portrait of Romani he assumed she’d painted herself.

Da Vinci leaned her elbows on her desk and laced her fingers together beneath her chin, framing her picture-perfect face in a way that he was certain was intentional. “So, what is it exactly that you’re asking for, Fujimaru?”

Ritsuka dropped into the seat across from her. Maybe he was asking too much? But on the other hand, maybe he wasn’t asking enough. He forged ahead. “Let me have a day here once in a while to not do…” He searched for words. “...All this.”

“All this?” Da Vinci sounded amused.

Ritsuka waved his arms around erratically. “Everything! Everything I normally do. I’ve been…” He looked down, sighed. “I’ve been at war for, uh, about two years now. So if I can’t get away from here, can we make here… away?”

Da Vinci gave him a considering look. “Go on…”

“Give me one day, maybe once a month or whatever, we can work that out. One day that’s just mine without anything scheduled, and free rein in one of the simulator suites at full power, enough for a campout on the beach, or a chunk of modern Tokyo, or whatever. If I can’t leave HQ, at least help me have one day when I don’t have to be the Master of Chaldea before everything else.” He started ticking things off on his fingers. “No training. No missions. No interruptions. No Servants who need something from me, no command oversight, definitely no teasing over the comms when I least expect it.”

“No Servants at all?” There was a knowing tilt to da Vinci’s smile.

She’d already seen through him. As expected of da Vinci, he almost heard Mash say. “Also no questions you already know the answer to,” he shot back, giving her a mock glare that she just chuckled at.

Da Vinci tapped her lips with a finger and thought. “It would be a hassle to organize, and keeping the Servants out of your way would practically need its own dedicated task force, but… I think it’s doable.”

Ritsuka relaxed, eyes widening. “Really? ”Despite her iron control, she seemed a little taken aback by his obvious relief. “‘Cause that would be… I don’t know. Good. Different!” He sighed. “Really different. Movie nights are fun but as last night reminded me, I still have to ride herd on everyone.”

“You know that if there’s an emergency, we’ll have to interrupt you,” she cautioned. “And we’ll have to do some amount of passive monitoring. We need to know if you get hurt, kidnapped, pulled into a micro-Singularity, fall into a nightmare and become comatose, et cetera.”

“Monitoring for the usual nonsense, check.” Every now and then Ritsuka was forced to acknowledge how absurd his life had become.

“How does the end of the week sound?”

Ritsuka blinked. “Wait, that soon?” He was so delighted that it took him a second to process. “...You were waiting for me to ask, weren’t you?”

Da Vinci nodded. “I was expecting it before Shinjuku. I’ll set the simulator up myself if you like. Any requests?”

“Um, maybe. Could I get back to you on that tomorrow? There’s someone else I need to ask about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in mild embarrassment.

“Oh?” Da Vinci’s eyebrow raised in a way designed to let him know she was only pretending to be surprised. “Let me know what you decide on, and I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks, da Vinci.” He started to push himself up, then stopped, because there was one other thing he wanted to bother her about and with how busy she was these days it was probably better to get all his questions answered at once, so he bit the bullet. “Hey, uh. My family’s been emailing me again, and I’m really not sure what I can tell them except that I’m still stuck here. Any word on when I can actually go home?”

It was a good thing he’d tempered his expectations, because the look in da Vinci’s eyes said what he needed to know before she said a word. “You deserve it, Fujimaru. You truly do. But even if I hate to say it, you’re still needed here.” Da Vinci shook her head. “Right now, the Mages’ Association and the UN are both breathing down our necks, the new staff is… inexperienced…”

“And assholes,” he muttered.

Da Vinci went on with only a tiny sigh to show she’d heard. “...And the strategic situation is uncertain. According to Holmes, three more Demon Gods escaped the Goetia collective before you finished it off. Sending you away from Chaldea could be ruinous for everyone if we had to respond to another threat. Unfortunately, you remain the only Master we have.”

“No word on new Master candidates?” he asked quietly.

“They’re still trying to decide what to do with the injured candidates. They’re stable in the cryotanks, but once we start resuscitation, there's no putting them back. Either we succeed at healing them or they die.” She shrugged elegantly. “And very few magi families want to send their scions into what’s already proven to be a meat grinder. Recruitment is difficult.”

Ritsuka nodded. “So it’s still just me,” he said, with no small amount of melancholy. It’s not that big a deal, he told himself. He hadn’t really expected anything else. It would have felt really strange to have backup. And there was a dim but surprisingly intense feeling of anger at the idea of sharing Chaldea’s servants with other Masters, a feeling that got brighter and more pointed when he considered what he’d learned about magi and how they’d probably treat Servants. Not that mistreating them wouldn’t end up a self-solving problem, but it was the principle of the thing. “No vacation, then,” he said, a bit more lightly.

“No vacation yet, my young friend! I am working on a chance for you to go home, at least to visit. Negotiations continue, and I am after all a genius in all forms of human endeavor - which most definitely includes both politics and bureaucracy. They’ll cave in eventually.”

“Thanks for the help, da Vinci. I was worried this would seem like a silly request.”

For a brief moment, da Vinci lost her smile. Usually, that was a sign of impending disaster. In this case it was only alarming because Ritsuka had just enough time to see a flash of the deep and abiding sorrow before it reappeared. Before he could even think of saying anything about it, da Vinci shook her head, giving him a gentle look. “There’s nothing frivolous about needing a rest, and there’s certainly nothing frivolous about wanting to find a way to be closer to someone you care for, and who cares about you in turn. It’s a fundamental part of human happiness, and everyone deserves a chance to have it if they want it.” A hint of her usual cheer returned. “Trust me on this. Romance is, after all, another human endeavor, which means…?”

Whatever she was hurting about, it only took one look in her eyes to know that it wasn’t something she wanted to share. Ritsuka made himself smile back, going along with her obvious deflection. “You’re a genius at it?”

“Full marks, Fujimaru! I see you know your da Vinci well. Now,” she said before he could reply, “why don’t you let me get back to finessing our reports to the Association and go ask… whoever it is you need to ask about that night out, hm?” She winked at him and turned back to her papers.

Chapter Text

What You’re Missing

March 14, 2019

Ritsuka had shared enough meaningful glances and awkwardly affectionate moments with Ushiwaka that he was confident that there was mutual attraction between them. She’d even given him an unnaturally sharp chocolate sword for Valentine’s Day, which was too dangerous to eat but definitely a sign of affection coming from her. So there really wasn’t anything to worry about when it came to asking her out. Right?

That was what he kept telling himself as he tried to locate her after his consultation with da Vinci. It didn’t help. Now that he was actually about to act on his feelings, Ritsuka’s subconscious naturally insisted on bringing up as many potential issues as possible.

Was he going to have to explain what a date was? Did she even do casual romance? Was she going to end up comparing him to the storied Shizuka-Gozen? That was a matchup where he was pretty sure he wouldn’t come out ahead. Where did the lord/retainer dynamic come in? Would she think she was supposed to go along with his request? Would she think it was totally improper? If he phrased it casually so he didn’t seem like a creepy boss, would that make her think he wasn’t taking it seriously? And there was the whole Master/Servant dynamic on top of that. Not that he personally thought that meant anything except that she casually outclassed him in any sort of physical contest. Which was fine! A little intimidating, maybe, but fine, and also kind of extremely hot! But what about…

And on, and on, and on. Every little thing that occurred to him was stupid and unnecessary could be resolved by just doing the thing. It wasn’t that he thought it was going to go poorly. But Ushi was important to him, and he was really attracted to her, and, well…

He just didn’t want to fuck this up.

Ushi’s room was unoccupied when he checked, so he reluctantly made a pass through the cafeteria, knowing he’d get held up if there were Servants around, which there were. Over the space of half an hour, he defused a yet another impromptu singing contest between Eliza and Nero, talked Hundred Personas out of a three-way argument with themselves, and gave Moriarty the stink-eye until he stopped trying to con Babbage out of his quantum crystals with implausible steam engine designs. He supposed he had to give Moriarty credit for landing on his feet; only a day after he arrived and he was already causing trouble. Great!

The stop wasn’t a complete bust. For one thing, he managed to scarf down a pair of onigiri while listening to Hundred Personas’ squabble. For another, a couple of the staff mentioned they’d seen Ushiwaka challenging Sakata Kintoki to a sparring match, which made his next stop was the simulators. Especially since with that pair a ‘spar’ was probably closer to a deathmatch than not.

Walking to the simulator suites, Ritsuka managed to mostly stifle his romantic anxiety, only to have it replaced by the other issue he’d brought up with da Vinci: the possibility of actually leaving Chaldea.

We miss you. Please come home, Mom had written. He wanted to, he really did. He still missed his family and his friends. But the Fujimarus’ little apartment in Tokyo was home for a naive kid who’d decided to take an overseas internship to break out of a too-ordinary routine. Ritsuka didn’t need to look at his scars to know he wasn’t that person anymore. He wasn’t sure he was calibrated for normal life anymore. Chaldea might not feel quite like home, but he wasn’t sure his family’s place did anymore, either.

Ritsuka wondered what he’d do if he left. Unless a lot of people were lying to him, everyone and possibly everything on Earth had just… skipped the year and a half between June 25, 2017 and December 31, 2018. How the world at large was dealing with that, he was hesitant to even ask, but if Chaldea did let him leave, was he supposed to go right back to his middle year of high school? He’d turned eighteen weeks ago, he’d look like a delinquent who’d been held back. At least he was unlikely to fail World History now, unless he slipped up and got too many genders correct.

He imagined living in Tokyo again, surrounded by his family, interacting with totally normal people. Imagined finishing high school, getting a part-time job, cramming for university. It felt fake. Unreal.

No, that wasn’t quite right. It felt like he’d be the one faking it, faking concern about grades and school plans, all the while knowing there was a world out there that could wipe his ordinary life away without him ever knowing what happened. Maybe not even a world where he belonged, with his mortal body and his inept magics, but a world where important things happened, where there was more pressure, but also more purpose.

But if he didn’t go back, then he’d be on the front lines forever, wouldn’t he? God, that was a depressing thought.

When Ritsuka reached the antechamber for the simulators, the display outside of Simulator Suite 4 showed the combat going on inside. He paused at the door to watch Ushi flit around a lightning-spitting Kintoki like a razor-winged bird, black sleeves flying as she attacked him from what seemed like every direction at once.

He found himself smiling involuntarily. At least as long as he’d be here in Chaldea, she would too. Maybe it wasn’t so depressing after all.

* * *

Regardless of Demon Gods and world-shaking events, Ushiwakamaru still had no intention of sitting by and letting whatever had been growing between her and Ritsuka fade. It had been more than two months since their confrontation with Goetia, which should have been enough time to act on it. Except even having saved humanity, Chaldea just didn’t stop, and between grieving for Romani, taking in new staff, writing dozens of reports, and the usual training and supply missions, Ritsuka’s day-to-day bustle didn’t leave a lot of room for personal matters.

So, like an utter fool, she’d waited for Valentine’s Day.

Last year, Valentine’s Day had been a poorly-controlled debacle, and she’d stayed well out of it except when there had been chocolate to fight. She’d later learned that for most of the world the holiday was a cheerful semi-obligatory celebration of love and romance. It seemed like it would be an appropriate time to get closer to Ritsuka, and no one could complain that he had more pressing things to do, then. Surely Chaldea wouldn’t devolve into utter chaos again.

She had been wrong.

Still, Ritsuka had been endearingly awkward and appreciative for her Valentine’s Day gift and had somehow found time to make her chocolate as well. She decided to wait for an opportunity that a dozen other Servants weren’t trying to capitalize on.

Then he’d been Rayshifted into a new Singularity without any backup whatsoever and nearly been killed half a dozen times, while all she could do was - in the words of that cackling lunatic - wait and hope. She’d been kicked out of the command room repeatedly when she couldn’t contain her frustration. It made her blood boil to think of her lord reduced to scrambling around trying to locate a friendly Servant before something killed him. Wasn’t that the very first of his so-called rules? Even if Mash couldn’t act as his bodyguard anymore, there had to be a way to allow at least one Servant (which should of course be Ushiwaka) to accompany him regardless of conditions.

He’d made it back not much worse for wear, to her tremendous relief, but being forced to stand by and worry like that had only made it more clear to her that simply being another of his Servants wasn’t enough anymore. In the week since, the only time with him she’d managed to find was watching movies with a dozen others or eating together in a crowded cafeteria. Neither one was a place for a proper romantic overture, and she was still above sneaking into his room at night.

All of which was to say that Ushiwakamaru was growing frustrated waiting for an opening to strike, romantically speaking. Frustration was not an emotion she had ever learned to handle well. So, as she often did when something troubled her that she couldn’t simply eliminate, she found someone to fight in its place.

Which was why she was very close to being chopped in half.

Ushiwakamaru swayed backwards as the golden axe missed her face by centimeters, sparks leaping between its angled teeth like lightning between clouds. Her mediocre Magic Resistance was enough to fend off the few that reached out to her, but that was practically just the wind from its passage. Even a glancing hit from that thing would land her in the infirmary.

“Damn, I wish I could move like that!” Kintoki’s cheerfully envious statement didn’t stop him from following up with a wild haymaker from his free hand and another axe chop that split the earth as she sidestepped. Kintoki didn’t have a lot of technique, just a good battle sense and overwhelming power. He didn’t need to move like her to be a menace. It was almost laughable to think that this is what he was like without his Madness Enhancement active. Even if Kintoki didn’t have any armor to speak of, he was too resilient for minor wounds to matter, so her whole fight was walking a razor’s edge trying to get past his wild swings to land a solid hit.

Dirt sprayed with each step as she darted from side to side, trying to find an angle of attack. He was a hair too slow matching her and she went for the opening she found, cutting at his forearm before he could turn back to block. He pivoted to meet her, just barely fast enough; her first swing missed, and he caught her second and third on the broad blade of his axe.

With a twist of the wrist, Kintoki locked Usumidori’s blade between the axe’s teeth like the prongs of a hachiwari and wrenched sideways, trying to disarm her. Ushi’s eyes gleamed in appreciation - it was an unexpectedly clever move from such a straightforward fighter. Still, she wasn’t going to let her old friend be taken away so easily. She glided along with the pull, keeping her balance and also keeping Usumidori’s hilt in her hands where it belonged. Realizing it wasn’t working, Kintoki laughed again and reached for the rear handle of his strange axe, the one with the trigger. Before he could pull it and unleash Raijin’s lightning, Ushi found the angle to slip her blade free and skipped back out of reach.

They circled each other through their simulated battlefield, him kicking fallen trees out of the way while she perched atop them. It had started as a walled forest, but after half an hour of off-and-on fighting, only one fortunate tree remained standing. Ushi was out of breath, her muscles ached from deflecting Kintoki’s overpowered swings, and she’d escaped being bisected by a hair a dozen times over.

She was having a great time.

Kintoki let out something more like a whoop of excitement than a war cry and charged, swinging wildly. His axe must have weighed half as much as she did, but he whipped it back and forth like it was a willow switch. There was no clever way to fight past something that heavy moving that fast, and she was forced back, slipping each blow in turn until she felt the instinctive pressure at her back that told her she was close to the wall. Seeing her run out of room, Kintoki swung with purpose, a broad horizontal chop that left only two ways to move: up or down.

The axe screeched across the wall as she dove over it and him. She landed ready to strike, only to have to roll backwards as Kintoki kept spinning full circle. As the axe went past above her, she kicked herself to her feet and stepped in as close as she could get. Too close for her usual sweeping blows, she tried to angle Usumidori’s long blade for a draw-cut.

Kintoki slapped her sword out of line with the haft of his axe, but now he was the one stuck between her and the wall, with no room to step back. He reached out with his free hand as if to grab at her, but stopped with an uncomfortable look on his face and took a thin slash across the chest for his hesitation. She wasn’t sure why he’d stopped - between his strength and her speed, a grapple was probably his best move - but Kiichi had taught her that when you saw an advantage you used it, so she gave him a fierce grin and moved in even closer, until he had his back pressed against the wall trying to fend her off.

Looking more and more uncomfortable, Kintoki took another two light cuts across the chest before he roared with frustration and pulled that trigger on his axe. The golden weapon crackled ominously before a lightning burst from it with a clap of thunder, scorching her and forcing her back. Despite the glare he was giving her, his cheeks were flushed. Maybe he was embarrassed that she’d stymied him so easily? His arms were turning red, too, so maybe it was just his Madness Enhancement kicking in. Muscles twitching from the shock, she ducked a brutal chop at her head, then had to vault backwards away from an equally brutal kick at her lowered head. She flipped backwards, planted her feet against that lone tree, and launched herself back at him -

A hidden speaker let out a long chime and a door drew itself into the simulated wall next to them. As it slid open to reveal their Master, Kintoki froze in an awkward position in the middle of his windup for another swing, and Ushi turned her diving slash into a tumbleset, sheathed Usumidori, and rolled to her feet.

“Hey you two. Sorry to interrupt.” Ritsuka flipped up a hand in a casual wave as he walked in.

“My lord!” Ushi gave a shallow bow, smiling and trying to look composed instead of sore and tired.

“Whoooo…” Kintoki slammed his axe into the ground, letting out a long breath. He clenched and unclenched his hands as the red receded from them. Then he gave Ritsuka his trademark grin, broad and brilliant. “Hey, Boss! Sorry about that, just got a little worked up is all.”

“No problem, man. How’s it going?” He extended a fist to Kintoki.

“Your favorite badass is giving me a hell of a beating, that’s how!” Despite his words, Kintoki’s broad grin stayed genuine as he bumped his own fist into Ritsuka’s waiting knuckles. Both of them made silly exploding sounds as they pulled their hands back, then burst into laughter. Ushiwaka would never, ever say it out loud, but she was slightly jealous of the way that Ritsuka and Kintoki seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm so easily.

Ritsuka shook his head. “I dunno, I only caught the last minute on the screens outside, but it looked pretty even to me.”

“Nah, she’s holdin’ back! When she really gets goin’, I can barely see her!” Kintoki said. Ushi beamed; she knew she hadn’t been holding back any more than he had, but the legendary Sakata Kintoki had given her face, and Ritsuka hadn’t contested the ‘favorite badass’ part of his statement. Not that she had doubts, of course!

As her lord exchanged a little more friendly banter with Kintoki, she studied him surreptitiously. In some ways, he was still the earnest boy she’d stepped out of a summoning circle to meet, but he’d grown to fit the role he’d been pushed into. He was a little taller, and as the so-called ‘plugsuit’ he despised showed on the rare occasions he wore it, much more fit. More than that, though, he walked taller and held himself with a quiet, relaxed confidence. When she’d answered his call, he’d looked at the world like he was determined to do his best and hope the world eventually made sense again. These days, he looked like he was ready to make the world make sense whether it wanted to or not.

She surreptitiously bit her lip. It was a good look. She really did need to make a move soon, didn’t she?

“Where did you get an axe with a trigger on it, anyway?” Ritsuka was asking.

“Had it ever since I was born! I think Dad left it for me, since he couldn’t leave me much else. ‘Course, it didn’t have the trigger then, it was just a big old axe. When I joined up with Raikou, the Genji armorers added some stuff they salvaged from… uh…” Kintoki squinted behind his sunglasses. “Some old armor thing? I never knew much about it. Something weird they fished up out of the ocean.”

“Is that where Uncle Tametomo came from?” Ushi wondered aloud. Kintoki just looked as if he didn’t know what she was talking about - no surprise there, he was at least two generations too early. “Uncle was… Hm. I suppose he was pretty much what you’d call a ‘robot’.”

Ritsuka nodded sympathetically. “All logic, no emotion, huh? Yeah, I’ve met people like that.”

Ushi tilted her head. “I only met him once, my lord, and yes, he was like that, but also he was built out of metal parts.”

“Wait, seriously?! Man, the Heian era was way cooler than I thought!” Ritsuka rubbed his chin, eyes shining. “I wonder if there’s a way we could special order a catalyst for him… Anyway!” He shook his head a little and glanced between the two Servants. “I actually came looking for Ushi for something. Is it okay if I break up this match?”

“That’s fine by me, Boss. I think I got bloodied enough already.” He swiped a rag at the cuts on his chest, wiping the blood away. The cuts themselves were already half-healed; Kintoki’s resilience was truly enviable.

Ushi nodded agreement and bowed to him. “Thank you for an excellent bout, Lord Kintoki.”

“Naw, thank you. It was a blast! Anytime you want a rematch, just let me know!” Kintoki bowed and strode out through the door Ritsuka had come in, waving. “Catch you later, both of ya!”

After he’d gone, Ritsuka waved a hand at the wall next to the doorway until a console showed itself. He started to fiddle with it, and the enclosed woodland dissolved into blocky images, then into the plain white default room.

“What was it you wanted to see me for?” Ushi asked.

Ritsuka thought for a second, bit his lip, and said, “Huh. You know, I came here for a reason and on the way I got kinda stuck overthinking things. Give me a minute?”

Ushi nodded. “Overthinking is the bane of many a commander. Not me, of course.” She flashed him a small grin. “I keep telling you, you should be more confident! After all, no one could say you do not have notable accomplishments to your name.”

His smile turned wry. “I’m getting there. Shinjuku wasn’t a big help as far as confidence goes.”

“I know it was a troublesome mission, my lord, but if there’s something I can do to help…”

“I don’t know if anyone can, really. I’m just worried about where things are going.” He leaned his back against the wall next to the simulator console and looked upwards as he considered his answer, folding his arms. “The weird little Singularities that crop up are just… whatever, and the big ones were a war that even Goetia wasn’t taking seriously until the end. Shinjuku felt different. It was personal, you know?” He looked back to her with a concerned frown. “I was being hunted the whole time. I don’t just mean Lobo, I mean the whole Singularity was a setup to kill me.”

Ushi let a little bit of protective anger show with a scowl. “I tried to stay in the command room while you were stuck there, but da Vinci didn’t like me shouting at the monitors and kept kicking me out, so I only saw bits and pieces. It was truly that bad?”

“Oh, yeah. Gave me nightmares for a couple of days after I got back.” His eyes glazed over slightly. “Big wolf. Very big, very fast, very sharp wolf. Zero stars, would not recommend,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord.” Ritsuka didn’t deserve any more nightmares. Dantes needed to do his job better. “Is it true that you summoned the Archer responsible yesterday?”

He snorted an unhappy laugh. “Moriarty. Yeah, the jerk tried to claim he didn’t remember me, but it’s definitely the same Coffin Archer.” He gave a slight, faintly disbelieving shake of his head and rolled his eyes. “I think he just really likes being cagey.”

“Are you going to send him back where he came from?”

Predictably, Ritsuka shook his head again. “He could’ve achieved everything he’d ever wanted if he’d been able to give less of a damn about me, and he couldn’t do it. I know he’s dangerous, but I can at least hear him out. I just have to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble for everyone else,” he finished with a grumble.

Ushi narrowed her eyes, weighing what she knew against the uneasiness she felt at the idea. “I suppose that is for the best,” she eventually said, still scowling.

RItsuka blinked at her in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought you’d want to cut his head off.”

Now it was Ushi’s turn for an unhappy laugh. “From what I saw, he is a conniver and a user of people. Such people are despicable, but they are only dangerous once they have no use for you. If he intends to use you, then that means he intends to keep you alive,” Ushi said, fingering Usumidori’s hilt. She began to pace restlessly back and forth on the empty white floor. “Plots and conspiracies are not something I can face with a sword. You know as well as I how I’ve fared with them. If you say you think you’re being plotted against, then perhaps you need a schemer on your side.”

Ritsuka watched her obvious agitation with concern. “But you don’t like it.”

The blank white walls felt uncomfortably close, and she restlessly picked up her pace. No, she very much did not like it. “You say you’ll hear him out. Even if he is needed, I cannot like the thought of you listening.” Her brother’s sycophants played the games of court better than she, who’d never understood why anyone would wish to play them at all. She’d discounted the poison they’d whispered in Yoritomo’s ears until it was too late.

Ritsuka looked past her, brow slightly furrowed. As he thought, his expression looked oddly familiar to her - the very picture of a serious young lord making weighty decisions. Then his smile returned, and he was just Ritsuka again. “Even if he is kind of twisted, I won’t let him twist me up too. And if you’re ever convinced his help isn’t worth the risk, tell me, and I will send him back where he came from.”

Ushi stopped pacing. “Is that a promise?”

Ritsuka nodded as if it were just that simple. “I trust you.”

No qualifications, just faith in her judgement. Yoritomo never took my word over anyone else’s. The white walls seemed to recede, and the tension she hadn’t noticed creeping into her body drained away. “Then he should stay for now, my lord. As long as we watch him carefully, he might prove useful.” She smirked to cover her relief. “You must simply be sure he understands who is in charge! And when the time comes that he must be removed, I will be overjoyed to take care of that for you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ritsuka stifled a chuckle. “Well, you personally took out half of the original Demon God Pillars. I’m sure you could deal with one old man, even if he does pack a gun.”

Ushi straightened up beneath the praise, fighting the urge to preen. “Those were hardly my proudest moments! Cutting down a foe that can’t move is hardly a feat worth recounting.”

“I seem to remember them thrashing around and tearing up the scenery a lot,” he said with a grin.

She gave him a sharper one in return. “It doesn’t matter how much the head wobbles around if the neck stays put, my lord.” Ritsuka burst out laughing, and she couldn’t help but join in. All the tension from their conversation seemed to wash away.

“Hey, Ushi,” he said after the laughter had faded to a comfortable quiet, and she turned back to see him still smiling at her. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked, sounding almost completely casual. Only the faintest creases around his eyes and the catch in his voice gave away that he was anxious.

Finally! She nearly agreed immediately, but something about the laughter made her feel daring enough for mischief, and when would an opportunity like this come along again? She deliberately dropped the smile from her face and adopted a pensive look. “A date,” she said carefully, making it a statement instead of a question.

Ritsuka grimaced. “Yeah, I was worried about that. Uhh, a ‘date’ means -”

Despite her attempt to keep impassive, Ushi’s cheeks were turning red. Her eyes flicked away, considering, then back to him. “I know what a date is, my lord.” She might not have been summoned with as solid a grasp of modern behavior as Lord Kintoki, but she’d gotten that much.

“Oh! Okay, good! So, um.” He stopped, looking simultaneously relieved and awkward.

She let him wait. “Was this what you were overthinking?” At his nod, she glanced away because now she was having a hard time hiding a smile. As sternly as she could manage - which wasn’t very much - she said, “My lord… Are you attempting to court me?”

Ritsuka’s eyes widened in alarm, and he stammered out, “What? Uh, maybe? I mean… yes? But… not formally or anything? Like, this isn’t step zero of some kind of, uh, betrothal process.”

Gods, he was adorable when he was flustered. It took serious effort to keep the surge of affection she felt off of her face. “I see.” Without turning back, she gave him a mock-suspicious look. “So this must be an attempt to seduce me.”

After a long moment of wide-eyed paralysis, he murmured, “Can I have a third option?”

She let her smile out of hiding, sly and cheerful. “...I did not say that I was averse to the idea.”

Ritsuka visibly slumped with relief, then narrowed his eyes at her even as he started to smile. “You’re just giving me a hard time, aren’t you?”

She laughed softly. “Maybe a little. But… Yes! I would like that, my l-” She stopped herself, because that wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, and tried again. “I… would very much like to go on a date with you, Ritsuka.”

His eyes went wide again. Oh. Wait. That was the first time she’d actually used his given name to his face, wasn’t it? Now both of them were obviously blushing, and Ushi was feeling that subtle excitement she remembered from moments like these, when the sparks that flashed between her and someone else were finally allowed to catch fire. Her worries grumbled like old ghosts, but in the face of his growing smile, they didn’t matter.

“Okay then!” he said enthusiastically. “I hope it wasn’t presumptuous, but I asked da Vinci to set up a… I guess a simulated vacation this weekend, if that sounds good. I was waiting to ask you before I told da Vinci where I - we - wanted to go, so if you have any ideas, or anything you want to do together, tell me. No fighting, though,” he said, before she could respond. “We get enough of that.”

Ushi allowed herself a tiny sound of disappointment, more for formality’s sake than anything else. As she considered their options, Ritsuka fiddled with the simulator controls again, She stepped closer to see what he was doing, but it became obvious when one wall of the simulator shifted to show different locations, one after another -  a street festival, an amusement park, a lakeside park, a modern cityscape…

When the city appeared, she had a flash of inspiration. “Ah! There is something I would like,” she said, hitting her palm with a fist. “When you were trapped in that Singularity last week, both of the Servants you were with danced with you, did they not? I would like the chance to do so as well.”

“That’s only fair, I guess.” He stifled a chuckle. “Do you want me to wear a dress this time, too?”

“You did look fetching,” Ushi said with a grin, “but not unless you really want to.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“That’s acceptable, Mash still has pictures,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ushi said quickly. “Are all modern dances the partnered kind? That seemed overly formal. I think I’d prefer something more relaxed.”

“Nah, people just dance along with the music unless it’s a special occasion. Though usually there’s more than just two people dancing. Maybe da Vinci can whip up a simulated club or concert or something.”

“Either way, it sounds enjoyable to try,” she said.

He snorted with amusement. “Here’s hoping the simulator doesn’t turn it into some kind of dance fight.”

Ushi gave him a faint grin. “Are you sure you should have said that out loud, my lord?”

Ritsuka groaned. “I’ve doomed us both,” he said, slumping.

“I think I would like to see a modern city that isn’t that Singularity,” she went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “You’re from Tokyo, correct? The new capital?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘new’...” He shrugged. “Tokyo sounds like fun, as long as you don’t expect me to be much of a guide. Just because I lived there doesn’t mean I know my way around more than a tiny bit.”

“We can explore together, then,” she said with a smile. “I would like to dance and see some interesting modern things. And drink!”

“Ehh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m only eighteen.” She gave him an unimpressed look designed to remind him how many people she’d killed by the time she was eighteen, and he raised his hands defensively. “Look, the only time I’ve actually had alcohol was with Drake on Pirate Island, and wow, that could’ve been a disaster. I don’t want to risk it. Besides, you know I’d never hear the end of it from either Mash or Da Vinci.”

Ah, there was an opening. Her reply was as matter-of-fact as she could make it. “Have it your way, my lord. We can still enjoy ourselves, and as I am under no such restriction, I will drink, and then I’ll kiss you so you can taste what you’re missing.”

It was extremely enjoyable watching Ritsuka’s thoughts grind to a complete halt.

Involuntarily, his eyes went to her lips, which made her smile in a way she made sure he noticed. Slowly, as if wondering if he’d somehow misheard her, he said, “If you do that, I don’t think I’ll be worried about what I’m missing.”

Pressing the attack, she replied, “I would hope not! But if you are, tell me, and I shall keep kissing you until you’re satisfied.” Ushi let her statement hang in the air between them for a second. Her cheeks felt hot, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she took in his stunned expression and gave him a self-satisfied little grin, trying to hide how fast her heart was suddenly beating. It was satisfying seeing him so flustered, at least when she was the cause. She had warned him that her technique had improved, after all.

She half expected him to deflect. Instead, he visibly pushed past his discomposure to lock eyes with her, looking intent in a way she'd never seen on him before except in a crisis. He leaned just far enough inside her personal space that she couldn’t ignore how close he was. “Is that a promise?” he demanded, with just the slightest hint of a smile.

Ushi felt her toes curl, and she swallowed and replied, “Yes,” before she could stop herself.

“...Good. It's a plan, then.” he said, sounding a little out of breath.

Okay. So. He wasn’t as defenseless as he seemed. Now she was the one whose eyes slipped down to his lips, then cut away to the side as she imagined them pressed against hers. Imagined opening her lips and… Her skin tingled, and that warm excitement threatened to turn into something just as familiar but hotter and more urgent. For a wild moment she was ready to just let it burn, push him up against the wall, and get a head start on that promise. Or ask him to. Either way, really, as long as -

No, no, that wouldn't do, even if it was tempting. She drew in a deep breath, straightened up, and tried to master herself at the same time Ritsuka did the same.

If she wasn’t going to press the attack, it was definitely time to disengage. She gave a sharp bow, taking refuge in formality. “So! I shall see you tomorrow for the usual supply trip, my lord, and then this weekend, we’ll…” Her eyes drifted back to his lips, just for a second. “Yes.”

Fortunately, he seemed just as off-kilter as she felt, because he just nodded. “...Right.”

“So. Um. Have a pleasant night, my lord!”

Almost before he could finish saying, “You too,” she was out the door at Servant cruising speed, faster than mortal eyes could track.

* * *

“Jing Ke! Jing Ke!”

“Hey, Ushiwaka, what’s - hey! Slow down, what’s wrong?”

“My lord just asked me out on a date.”

“Oh, thank every single god, one of you finally made a move. Please say you agreed, you two were getting ridiculous.”

“I… Yes. Yes I did. Also, I may have told my lord that I would kiss him until he told me to stop.”

“Great! Wait, why’re you even here then? Don’t tell me he said ‘no’. Even Master’s not that dense.”

“N-No, he agreed.”

“Good! This calls for a celebration! Come on, you distract Boudica while I grab something from the kitchens, and you can regale me with the story! I’ll even get saké instead of soju, just for you. Tell me, is he a good kisser?”

“We… I didn’t… I mean, the deal is for later!”

“Wait. You made that deal and then left without kissing him?”

“Well….”

“And he let you?”

“...Yes?”

“What is wrong with you two?”

Chapter Text

Shinjuku Quarantined Territory, March 15, 2019

Beneath the dingy streetlamps of a Shinjuku intersection, Moriarty straightened his cravat and brushed a few flecks of dirt from his shoulder, ignoring the charred remains of his left sleeve. A few meters away, the Chevalier D’Eon wiped their blade clean on a pristine white handkerchief and carelessly tossed the fabric into the air, where it vanished into faint motes of light. Around them, a dozen black-armored Hornets lay about the streets of Shinjuku, a couple of them still twitching.

Ritsuka tried not to look too hard as he packed up the spoils, more out of habit than any actual distaste. Sometimes the aftermath of battles still bothered him, but he’d been at this for a long time now, and a dozen bodies full of rapier and bullet holes was mild by his current standards. For starters, they were still mostly in one piece.

Armor clanking, Mordred sauntered across from the other side of the street, where the second half of the Hornets’ unit had unwisely attempted a pincer maneuver rather than the more sensible retrograde maneuver. “Found another couple of those injectable potion things,” they said, tossing the ampules to him. Alarmed, he almost fumbled the catch while trying not to be stuck by the wicked-looking exposed needles, and glared a reprimand at the knight. If it had any effect at all, it was impossible to tell beneath their helm. “What’s in those, anyway?” they asked.

“Spinal fluid,” Ritsuka said, pulling out more bubble wrap to put around them for safer transport.

The horns on the Knight of Treachery’s helm accentuated how it swung around in a double-take. “Are you shitting me?” There was an incredulous chuckle in their voice.

“That’s what I heard, but who knows? It’s not like I sucked it out of somebody’s back myself.” He sighed at the way the needle kept punching through the wrap. There just wasn’t a way to pack the damn things where they weren’t hazardous. He made a mental note to bring corks next time.

“This town is pretty fucked up,” Mordred said, wandering off to the edge of the group again. They were probably hoping against hope that someone would ambush them so they could hit more things before the Rayshift home.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ritsuka saw Ushi eyeing the head of a dead Hornet. When she noticed him watching, she pointedly hesitated a moment, and looked away with an exaggerated sigh. She might as well have been whistling innocently.

Ritsuka stifled something that wasn’t quite a laugh or a sigh. “No heads this time, Ushi.”

She shook her head in disappointment, though she smiled. “You say that every time, my lord.”

“Hey, we found a lot of supplies. There’s no room left for heads in the bags.”

“Perhaps you are simply bad at packing heads.” The grin she shot him was half challenging and half mischievous.

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of practice. Sorry I’m such a disappointment,” he fired back.

“You’d get practice if you’d ever take the heads, my lord. I'm sure I could find room.” She shook her head, still looking amused. “But that is what your retainers are for: doing things their lord would be disappointing at.”

“That’s a very good point,” Ritsuka said, nodding sagely. “But still, no.”

“I suppose the magic spinal fluid must take priority.” Ushi huffed in what he was almost sure was mock annoyance. “My lord is surprisingly picky about which body parts we bring back.”

“This is one of those conversations I hope my family never gets wind of,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. The smile wavered as he wondered how bad a sign it was that he could make jokes about corpses. Would it be better to get upset? He'd seen a lot of bodies in the last year and a half.

Trying to put it out of his mind, he cinched the bag of supplies up tight and slapped his wrist comlink to activate it. “Hey Mash,” he called to the air, “I think that’s a wrap.”

He’d be glad to get back to Chaldea. This was only his second trip to Shinjuku after the week he’d spent trapped there being hunted by a giant psychotic murder-wolf with only a bunch of touchy anti-Heroes for company. He might be giving Moriarty a chance now, but it was hard to forget that the whole place from beginning to end had been a plot to kill him. Just being back in the city had him on edge.

Mash’s face shimmered into view nearby in the familiar not-quite-monochrome of a Chaldean holoprojection. “All right, Senpai. Our scanners are a little erratic today, but all the readings are still in the green. It looks like you got what we needed. How did the Mystic Code test go?”

Ritsuka tugged at the black half-sleeve of his new outfit and shrugged. Their resident genius inventor had wanted Ritsuka to try out a prototype for the next generation of combat uniforms. “It’s always hard to tell how much I can squeeze out of these things before I get used to them, but the functions seem fine.” He idly wondered why the Chaldean outfits always had a strap clipped across the chest. Were they imitating Emiya's outfit for some reason? Oh well. It wasn’t a plugsuit, which was the important part. “It’s comfortable, and everything seemed to work fine. I’ll write up some notes for da Vinci and let her know that it’s as good as expected from her.”

“I’d appreciate that!“ Da Vinci’s face and upper body suddenly intruded into the side of the projection, forcing Mash to lean away awkwardly with a startled expression.“Not that there’s really any need, since I was observing the whole time, but more praise is always better! And don’t worry, the finished product will respond to whatever language you use. Ciao!” She gave a wave with her fingers and let Mash take her spot back.

Mash gave a wary glance to the side, as if worried it might happen again, before clearing her throat. “Um. The mission did seem to go about as well as it could have, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Ritsuka said. “Honestly, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop all day, but I’m not going to complain if it doesn’t.” It still felt odd for Mash to be helping run the missions instead of being close at hand. Not having her shield to duck behind was a little anxiety-provoking, but he wasn’t going to mention that. She felt bad enough already being taken off the roster.

Well, the solution to anxiety was to just get the heck out of there. He smiled at his team, who’d gathered around Mash’s image. “I know this was a pretty routine run, but thanks for making it easy, everyone. I’ll see you all back at Chaldea. You can fire it up now, Mash.”

“Roger, Senpai. Beginning retrieval Rayshift for Coffins One through Seven. See you in a few!”

Mash’s projection winked out. The Servants around him shimmered in otherworldly colors. One by one, they blurred, became only impressions of themselves, and faded away into dim sparks like they’d always been just there in his mind's eye. He could feel the connections to them slip away in the subtly sideways way that Rayshifts caused. Ushi gave him a smile and a lingering look as he disappeared.

Basking in the mixture of warmth and stomach butterflies that smile gave him, it took him a few seconds to register that he wasn't Rayshifting yet. He tried his wrist comlink again. “Hello?”

There was no response. The buildings of Shinjuku still stood quietly around him in the rapidly darkening twilight. A gust of wind scraped some dirty paper across the empty street. No Rayshift.

“Da Vinci?” He paused. “Are you there?”

He waited, trying not to let the lengthening silence worry him, and failing.

“Uh… Hey, Mash? Answer me, okay? What’s going on?” He could feel his heartbeat speeding up.

Still no response. Still no Rayshift.

Yep, there was the other shoe dropping, right on time. He pressed his mouth shut and took a deep breath, filled with the mingled triumph and defeat of the vindicated pessimist. “Shit,” he said, emphatically.

It was probably some kind of snafu with the new crew they’d taken on since the Human Order Restoration. Right? Or was conceivable that da Vinci had flaked out - she could’ve had a brilliant thought to write down about the new Code or gotten distracted by a shiny new technical issue. He was probably getting worried over nothing. On the other hand, whether or not Mash was field-capable right now, she’d taken an extinction-level event to the face for him a few months ago, and he didn’t think she’d slipped far enough since then that she’d fail to keep an eye on him during a Rayshift. And the whole assassination plot against him here in Shinjuku had started with a Rayshifting issue.

Ritsuka decided that paranoia was better than the alternative. He checked his Mystic Code charge, scanned the streets for hostiles, and started jogging towards an area with more cover. It was time to start taking precautions and get somewhere safer. Just in case.

* * *

“Return Rayshift engaged for all Coffins. Two, Six, Seven in transit... Return shift for Six now complete, Mordred Pendragon retrieved.” In the command bay overlooking the Rayshift room, Mash kept an eye on the consoles monitoring the Rayshift team’s Coffins. “Coffin One… hold on. ‘Rayshift retrieval interrupt, no transfer?’ I’ve never seen this message before.”

“What? Let me see that,” da Vinci said.

“Okay. Coffin Three, retrieval complete for Ushiwakamaru. I don’t know what it is, da Vinci,” Mash said, scooting out of the way to make room. “I’m re-engaging Rayshift for Coffin One.”

“Coffin Four shift complete, Archer of Shinjuku’s back,” called one of the new techs.

“What’s Fujimaru saying?” asked da Vinci, her smile starting to fray at the edges.

“Uh, nothing. No response.”

“Tell SHEBA Control to check the Shinjuku Singularity for unexpected changes,” Da Vinci said, staring at Mash’s console. “Someone run diagnostics on Coffin One. And get communications back with Fujimaru, please. Right now.”

* * *

Taut with awareness of his surroundings, Ritsuka picked his way carefully through dark streets peppered with abandoned, directionless coloratura mannequins - dangerous even now that Phantom and his ghostly paramour were gone, but only if he attracted their attention. On the notion that whatever was interfering with communicating with Chaldea might be localized, he’d been moving away from both Moriarty’s abandoned Barrel Tower and the point where he’d lost contact. It wasn’t much to go on, but anything was better than doing nothing. Still nothing from his comlink, though.

He was crossing a wide avenue when he heard a long, low howl that made his hair stand on end. Ritsuka stopped mid-stride in the middle of the street, a chill running down his spine. It seemed to come from miles away, though if that were the case, it would have to be as loud as a jet engine. He’d heard that sound before, weeks ago, in this very city.

No, damn it. We ended that thing. Sherlock said he was sure of it.

He knew what it was, but he still didn’t move, hoping that his paranoia had been on overdrive and he’d mistaken something else for it. Exactly what he could have mistaken for it, he wasn’t sure. A ghost Tyrannosaurus? A haunted fighter jet?

You broke Rule One again, you idiot. What did you expect? Never go anywhere without a Servant. If that sound was what he was afraid it was, then without a Servant he was a dead man.

As if it heard his thoughts, the howl sounded again, louder, closer. There was no mistaking it this time. It was a sound of hate so pure that it didn’t need words to communicate what it meant. I know you, it said. I am coming for you.

Raising his comlink to his mouth, Ritsuka swallowed and said, “Mash, da Vinci, now would be a great time to be anywhere else.” He was not ashamed at how shaky his voice was. He’d stood his ground in the face of the personified death wish of the human race and punched it in the face, but this thing had nothing to do with humans at all except slaughtering them out of sheer hatred. There was no way he could fight it, or hide from it, or escape it.

He’d better try anyway, though. He looked around to get his bearings. If he could make it to Shinjuku Station he could use the subway labyrinth to -

A fragment of the night dropped off of a high-rise a quarter of a mile away and landed in the street with an impact he could feel in his feet. It rose up, a black blot on the scenery, until resolved into the silhouette of a gargantuan wolf with a cloaked rider on its back.

Oh, I am so very fucked.

With a distant, metallic screech, the shadow shoved aside the rusted remains of a minivan as it stood. It sniffed the air, then slowly, deliberately, padded around to face him. The cloak of the man-shaped silhouette on its back lifted its arms into a spray of curving, scythe-tipped limbs, spreading like a bouquet of blades. It looked straight down the road at him with eyes that were just burning red pits in its darkness, eyes that, despite being nothing but burning red pits, somehow seemed to remember him.

You, the Shadow Servant’s eyes said to him. You are going to die.

He nodded, just the faintest gesture of agreement. “I know,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself. Trembling, he forced out his breath with lungs that wanted to freeze, and fought against terror for the strength to draw another. “...But not yet.”

Without warning, he spun and bolted for the empty doorway of the nearest building. The shadow-wolf howled its hate at his back and loped in pursuit.

* * *

“Coffin Two shift complete. Chevalier d’Eon successfully retrieved,” one of the staff said. “Coffin Five shift complete for Assassin Emiya, too.”

“Return shift failed again for Coffin One, da Vinci. That’s the third time.” Mash’s voice was tight with worry.

Da Vinci looked up from her console. “What’s taking so long getting in touch with Fujimaru?”

“His signal’s still erratic. We’re getting enough to maintain existence verification, but we can’t lock onto his position. It’s like there’s spiritron chaff in the Singularity. We can’t pinpoint anything.” The tech shrugged. “Whatever’s happening, it’s scattering the signals for all our readings, but Servants are easier to keep a lock on through it. See, there we go. Coffin Seven, shift complete for Servant Andersen. All Servants successfully retrieved.”

Da Vinci blinked at the reporting tech, one of the post-Grand Order hires, and narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me that Master Fujimaru is alone inside the Singularity?”

The tech nodded absently. “Yes, it seems that way.”

For about a second, the room was silent. It was possible to tell who’d been around for the Grand Orders and who was a recent addition by how galvanized they were by that statement.

A couple of Servants who’d been lingering in the control room in spirit form immediately dropped into material form in alarm, asking questions no one had time to answer. In the Rayshift room, Moriarty snapped, “Send us back!” at the control bay as he hauled his Coffin open again. Ushiwakamaru, who’d been peering concernedly through the faceplate window of Coffin One, leapt back into hers so fast she practically vanished, slamming the hatch shut. Mordred was only half a second behind, spitting curses. Mash had left her monitoring station and was already firing up the spiritron converter banks.

The new technician kept going. “We need to get some readings on - hey!“ He was shouldered aside by one of the veteran crew, a Grand Order survivor who needed access to the tech’s console and didn’t have time to ask nicely.

Da Vinci paid him no attention, already furiously typing commands to the projection arrays, one with each hand. When she looked up, hands still flying over the keys, her eyes were hard as diamonds, and it was difficult to imagine a smile had ever graced her face. “What we need is to get as many Servants into that Singularity as we can right now. If we’re mistaken, we’ll laugh about it later.” She turned back to the displays; she had no attention to spare him. “Mash, converter status?”

“I-I’ve dumped the capacitors with any charge into the converter banks,” Mash replied. “We’ve got full charge for three Coffins, but the others will take at least five minutes, maybe more.”

“Thank you, Mash. Starting emergency outbound Rayshift to Fujimaru’s last known location in Shinjuku for Coffins Three, Four, and Six. Brace yourselves, this is going to be a rough shift.” Da Vinci hit a final key. Moriarty, Ushiwakamaru, and Mordred’s Rayshift pods were briefly haloed in the vision-twisting spectrum of secondary Spiritron radiation. Da Vinci continued over the PA. “The rest of you, don’t even bother getting out of your Coffins. You’re shifting as soon as there’s power.”

* * *

Ritsuka was running headlong through a dark, grimy hallway when he felt his Servants return to him, the cords binding them together coming alive, opening for energy to flow through them again. First one, then another and another returned, Ushi among them. His relief took up attention he didn’t have to spare, and he slammed his shoulder into the frame of the doorway he was trying to dash through, bouncing off with a hiss of pain.

The stumble saved his life. Black jaws the size of his torso closed on the doorframe from the other side, ripping it from the wall and splintering the wood with a terrifying crunch. Red eyes in pitch darkness glared at him from the other side of the opening. He gave a short, terrified yell and stumbled backwards, then spun and ran back deeper into the building as the wolf shouldered its way through the doorframe, shattering the wall around it. His heart hammered in his chest, legs aching as his boots squelched across a room of detritus that squirmed under his shoes. Refusing to consider what he might be stepping on, he barreled down the next corridor, flinging what attention he could spare at his last Command Seal, an order half-framed in his mind. In the bloody light from the back of his hand, he could see the grimy doors lining the hallways and a broad, cracked window at the end.

There was no time to think about alternatives. Without slowing down, he covered his face with his arms and dove through the window. Glass shattered around him, slicing his forearms and scattering his Command Seal’s light across the street like a single-color kaleidoscope. While he was in the air, the entire building shook from an impact. He rolled to his feet and kept running, away from the crashes and snarling behind him.

There was no time to phrase things perfectly. Luckily, that wasn’t strictly necessary; a Command Seal just needed a vocalization and the proper strength of intent. At this point, he had very little breath left, but a whole lot of intent. As he ran on, red light from his hand strobed the whole street.

“Ushi! Help!”

* * *

The drop down the bright, vertiginous spiral of a Rayshift had never felt so long to Ushi. Ritsuka had been sucked alone into proto-Singularities, trapped in dreams, dropped into the underworld more than once, and otherwise been separated from Chaldea and his Servants before, so having his team shifted home without him for a quarter of an hour shouldn’t be that alarming… but her gut was telling her she should be worried, and it was very rarely wrong.

When he wasn’t there to meet him where they left him, she felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey, Chaldea, there’s nobody here. Yo! Mash? Da Vinci?” Mordred said to the air. There was no response. “Son of a bitch, we’re cut off too?”

Ushi shared a brief look of mutual worry with the other two. She wished they were more reliable - Mordred was a mixed bag, and Moriarty was as pure a scoundrel as had ever lived. She would have preferred d’Eon or Kintoki to either one. It didn’t matter. They both seemed to feel the same urgency she did, and if they didn’t find Ritsuka, she would.

Without a word, she picked what she thought was the most likely direction - deeper into the city - and ran, leaving the other two to sort out who was going where. She covered as much ground as she could, sticking to the roadways and periodically calling his name. Moving over buildings would have covered more ground faster, but Ritsuka wasn’t likely to climb a dozen or more stories without a good reason and she feared she’d miss him if she wasn’t at ground level.

“Ritsuka!” She called his name at each intersection, as loud as she could. If shouting for him attracted trouble she would carve her way through it.

She’d been running for less than a minute when she felt a Command Seal assert itself, a flare of power welling up from the contract attached to her Spirit Core. There was no mistaking a Seal’s power, especially one used without cautious wording or warning beforehand.

Scarlet magic simply rearranged her thoughts, shoving other concerns out of the way. Her Master required her help immediately. Her Master was miles to the east, in a wide lot between buildings. Her Master was being pursued by a terrible foe. Her Master thought he was going to die within the next minute. All these things Ushiwakamaru knew without transition or surprise, as if she’d been born with the knowledge but only that moment understood the significance. The sudden dread that came after the understanding, though, was like a spike through her heart.

Her lord was going to die, he was calling for her to save him and she wasn’t there. She was going to fail Ritsuka, right when he needed her most.

She was going to lose him.

Ushiwakamaru burst into a sprint toward where the Seal told her he was, a desperate refusal rising up in her. No, she would not be too late. Just once, just once in all her lives, she would save someone she cared about or she would make the world kill her first. No matter her dharma, no matter how her story was supposed to go, this time she refused to be the last to die.

The Seal’s power seethed in her Core, waiting for a use that would fulfill the Command’s intent. Without breaking stride, she invoked part of her legend. “Dan-no-Ura Eight-Boat Leap!”

As the last syllable left her mouth she wrapped her legend around her like wings and let the Seal’s power loose. Green fire rose at her feet to mix with the red Seal-glow around her, scorching the air as her Noble Phantasm was pushed past its boundaries. With the force of the Command Seal’s artificial miracle powering it, she felt the universe’s understanding of her crystallize. For a few moments, her legend became an absolute, a private law written by the World: Ushiwakamaru’s leap carries her wherever she chooses.

She kicked off from the ground, and distance itself bowed and stepped aside. The air around her shimmered like a heat mirage, scenery wavering as if her surroundings were just distorted reflections, and less than a second later, her foot came down on a rooftop near her lord, still cocooned in green flame. Heart in her throat, she looked for Ritsuka.

There. In that intersection, half a hundred meters away, Ritsuka was backing away from something huge and predatory, a night-black wolf the size of a stallion with curving scythe-wings sprouting from the rider melded to its back. Ritsuka was stumbling and panting for breath, barely on his feet, as it gathered itself to spring. He gritted his teeth in anticipated pain and threw up a hand as if to somehow ward off the enormous beast. A dusty shimmer rolled over him, but nothing changed. Her legend still coiled around her, Ushi never missed a step as she turned and dashed toward them, prepared to leap -

Too late.

Just before she reached the edge of the roof, the wolf pounced, its empty void of a mouth gaping wide. Black scythes converged on its prey like talons and buried Ritsuka in jagged darkness. Blood sprayed violently from the tangle of blades and teeth.

No, no, NO -

There was a moment of terrible clarity when she saw him come apart before her eyes, and time seemed to slow to a crawl to let her grasp the fullness of her failure.

She had sworn herself to him, offered him her sword and her service, let herself hope for more than that, when all that time she’d known her own story. She'd known who she was, what she was, but she’d lied to herself that it would be different this time. Only the living could change their fate. Hers had been made plain long before she’d taken her own life. Now Ritsuka had paid the price, and there were no lies left to tell herself, just the hateful truth.

Her story would always be a tragedy. Any road she walked led to ruin, and the world would ensure that those who walked alongside her would arrive there as well.

And if that was the truth of Minamoto-no-Yoshitsune, there was only one thing she could honestly offer anyone she cared for.

Vengeance.

The word resonated in her like a second heartbeat. Deep in the core of what she was, something cracked.

She bit down on the howl that wanted to burst from her, kept the anguish and rage inside where it belonged. Usumidori was in her hand now, moaning softly, remembering the name it had when it had been given to her: Hoemaru, Howling One, the monster-bane of Minamoto-no-Raikou that still longed for their blood. Her fingers clenched on its hilt so hard she felt the skin of her knuckles split. A pale haze like moonlight came over her vision, and everything faded away into insignificance except the sight of her soon-to-be victim.

Ushi launched herself off of the building’s cornice, ignoring the strain in her bones as what was left of the Seal and her Noble Phantasm turned everything she could give into almost more than her conjured body could withstand. She shot through the air, an arrow aimed at the wolf’s chest.

With Ritsuka dead, she might only have only minutes left in the world, but that would be enough. Before she faded away, she'd have this wretched thing's head for his funeral offering.

Chapter Text

Shinjuku Quarantined Territory, March 15, 2019

* * *

As the light of his Command Seal faded, Ritsuka burst out of the alley, running on his last legs. When he saw he’d run into a long, wide-open parking lot, he swore internally because he didn’t have the breath to swear out loud. He looked right and left, hoping for another doorway or alley within reach, but the nearest one was halfway across the lot, which might as well be on the moon as far as getting there before his pursuer caught up. There was no cover except for a few dilapidated shipping vans.

This was probably the end of the line, then. He wearily turned towards the alley he’d come from, slowly backing away from it more to give him time to see his pursuer coming than out of any hope of escape.

The pitch-black shadows of the alley almost seemed to stretch out into the enormous wolf’s head as it emerged, as if it was made from the same substance. Massive paws followed one after another, holding up a sleek, night-black body as high at the shoulder as his head. Something like an ill-defined rider grew out of its back, not just headless but handless as well; its arms stretched into scythes and more reaching, bladed limbs grew out of its back and shoulders. It was like all the things that had made Hessian Lobo any kind of Heroic Spirit at all had been stripped away and left only a monstrosity made in the same mold. All the while, its baleful eyes remained fixed on him, two spots of shining red amid the black like distant supergiants in a night sky.

Okay. Yeah. He was going to die.

It chilled Ritsuka’s blood to watch it prowl forward, not racing after him anymore but slow and intent, confident its prey had nowhere to run. He kept backing away, swallowing hard. Just because he was going to die didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use everything he had. He had one trick left. After that… Well.

He’d kept his promise as best he could, and he’d managed to carry the weight of the world long enough to put it down safely. He didn’t want to die, not even a little bit, but at least he was expendable now. The world would go on turning without him, Chaldea could find or defrost another Master. Huh. He really should’ve written down those rules for whoever came next. Too late now, he supposed.

Eh, they’d figure it out. He wasn’t much to talk about, and he’d managed.

The wolf bared its black teeth in a snarl, lowered its head and tensed its legs to spring one last time. Its eyes snapped wide at the prospect of finally catching its prey.

“Phantasmal Evasion,” Ritsuka whispered, squeezing every bit of mana he had left into da Vinci's prototype Mystic Code.

He felt the staticky tingle of the Code firing, and between one moment and the next, he went from staring at his inevitable demise only a few meters away to staring at the back of an illusory duplicate of himself where he’d been from another half a dozen meters back. He was glad he didn't have to see his own near-panic on his illusory double's face. According to da Vinci, for the next ten or fifteen seconds1 he would be ‘comprehensively undetectable’ - invisible, inaudible, masked to scent and even to magical senses.

It was a damn good trick. It was also the last trick Ritsuka had, and with how exhausted he was, it wouldn’t last until he made it out of the parking lot, let alone back to Chaldea.

With a bone-chilling snarl of triumph, the wolf pounced, almost seeming to expand as it stretched outwards with all of its shadowy limbs. Fangs and claws and every black scythe that sprouted from its back tore into his duplicate with a force that would have ripped steel. The illusion reacted in an all-too-authentic manner; blood sprayed in gory patterns over the pavement as his illusory double came apart into a dozen ragged pieces, most of which hit the ground with wet sounds. It was neither clean nor neat, and Ritsuka fought the urge to throw up.

As realistic as the gore seemed, the shadow-wolf seemed to realize something was wrong, looking from chunk to illusory chunk as if it was unsatisfied. As the wolf's head rose searchingly, jaws dripping with his illusory blood, Ritsuka’s Command Seal suddenly burned with pain like someone had jammed a live wire into it.

That was the only warning he got.

There was an impact like a thunderbolt and something glowing slammed into the wolf from the side so fast that it seemed to vanish as it was carried away to slam into the wall of a building at the edge of the lot. An instant later, a gust of wind hit him like a wall, blasting dirt and trash into the air and knocking him sprawling to the ground, and a thunderclap shattered windows all around the parking lot.

Ritsuka lay there for a moment, blinking up at the sky dazedly, his mind catching up to what he saw in that moment of impact, a single vivid image like a still frame of film -

- Fury in her eyes and teeth bared, Ushiwakamaru trails the green and white flame of her Noble Phantasm like a comet as she crashes into the wolf, driving the shadow from its feet, her sword so deep in the beast’s side that her hands are buried in the wound -

He was astonished to realize that he was no longer about to be eaten.

There was another, more distant crash, and a horrible snarl from across the parking lot. Rapidly, he amended ‘no longer about to be eaten’ with a ‘probably’, then shoved himself to his feet. Blinking away dust and grit, he tried to assess the situation, a response by now as automatic as breathing. No matter how much his head spun or how exhausted he was, he knew his role in a fight. Master’s Rule Number Four:, he thought groggily, Never assume your Servants have everything handled. That’s your job.

One, get out of danger. Two, get a better look at the situation. Waving away the dust that still filled the air, Ritsuka pushed his aching legs to carry him to the side of the parking lot into the ruined entrance of an abandoned skyscraper. He whirled around in the derelict entry hall until he saw a door marked as emergency stairs. He tugged at the door handle, then braced a foot against the doorframe and pulled until it came open with a grating squeal.

He wanted to take the stairs two or three at a time but worry for Ushi was the only thing that could get his legs to carry him up at all, even one at a time. He stumbled out on the third floor, gave himself five seconds bent over to just breathe, and stumbled toward the outside windows. This side of the building had a long, glass-walled hallway looking out over the parking lot, with office doors on the inner side of the hall. The impact and sound from Ushi’s ambush had blown in half the windows - Holy shit, had that been a sonic boom? - so he had to work to keep the sound of broken glass under his boots to a minimum as he picked his way to the windows to look down

In the parking lot below the building, Ushi faced down the shadow Lobo from so close that her hair fluttered in the wind of its breath. She held her sword in high guard, blood coating her sleeves and hands and dripping down to stain her armor and clothing. It didn’t seem to be hers. Her geta clacked as she stalked around the big wolf with measured movements, moonlit eyes boring into it from a blood-flecked face that showed no expression save cold fury. The wolf loomed over her, scythes spreading like wings.

Ritsuka leaned against the windowframe and took stock of his resources. There were none worth mentioning left; he’d used everything he had to stay alive for the past five minutes. If Ushi stalled long enough, his Mystic Code would recover, which was better than nothing but not by much. He couldn’t even call out to her without giving Lobo his position. For the hundredth time, he wished he was able to access the telepathic link that Master and Servant were supposed to share, but he'd always lacked the talent to learn it quickly and the time to learn it slowly.

Scythes cascaded down at Ushi from the shadow’s back as she strode forward. Without taking her eyes from the wolf’s, she deflected or slipped aside from each one, her movements flowing into a lunge past the thicket of blades. Usumidori's steel glimmered, and when she flickered to a halt, a wound showed bright red against the wolf’s black flank. Her outfit looked different - her armor was darker, maybe, and her clothing had gone from black back to a pale white. Had she lost some of her ascension, somehow?

The wolf and Ushi lunged at the same time, sword raised and black jaws wide. Instead of clashing directly with it, Ushi twisted and leapt aside so fast she seemed to simply cease to be there. She reappeared above the wolf, blade whirling at the rider-shaped shadow on its back. Its scythes parried frantically, then crossed to catch one last downwards cut, flexing with the blow like living tissue. Huge fangs snapped at her as the wolf head twisted, trying to pluck her from the air, but she kicked off of the blocking scythes and away. Turning heels over head, she planted her geta against the side of a street lamp pole. The pole bent, then toppled behind her as she dove back in like a falcon, leading with her sword. The blade chopped deep into the wolf’s shoulder joint. Before it could counterattack, she gave the hilt a vicious twist and tumbled to away, leaving the wolf stumbling on a leg suddenly unsteady.

By the time the shadow-wolf had recovered, Ushi was circling it again. She moved like lightning, striking sparks from the rusted cars and scraping the concrete of the parking lot. Even staying a dozen meters away from the wolf, she was so quick that it had to spin frantically to keep its eyes on her. After two rotations, it was noticeably limping on its wounded leg.

With another wordless shout, Ushi dashed back in to launch a vicious cut at its snout. The wolf twisted its head to take the blow on its teeth with a sound like steel against stone, and followed up by trying to close those fangs on her sword arm. Instead, Ushi vaulted across its muzzle with one hand on its snout. As she crossed between its eyes she reversed her grip on her sword and drove it down like an ice pick into the wolf’s eye. It let out a howl of simple agony that made Ritsuka’s ears ache.

Utterly focused, Ushi didn’t pause to celebrate a telling blow. Even as the wolf backed away, shaking its head in pain, she had planted her feet and turned to slice at its jugular, missing by centimeters as it twisted aside. The beast drove her back with frantically raking claws and scythe-wings, drumming the ground around her. She backpedaled, but a raking scythe caught her hip, tearing armor away, and her blood joined the wolf’s on the pavement. She ignored it as completely as if she hadn’t felt the wound.

Just outside of the wolf’s lunging range, Ushi returned to high guard, blade vertical at her shoulder. Ritsuka saw her look deliberately to the wolf’s ruined eye, now just a ruined red splotch on the inky form. Then she shifted her gaze to the remaining eye, waited a beat, and slowly dropped the tip of her blade until she was sighting down its edge at the eye. It was the coldest threat Ritsuka had ever seen.

“I know you can understand me,” she said, each word distinct and icy cold. In stark contrast to her steady voice, her eyes were empty with fury, whites showing all around her irises. “I have one offer. Bare your throat, and die quick.”

Ritsuka’s eyes were glued to the spectacle. Hessian Lobo had been a nightmare on four legs, and even a Shadow Servant version ought to be a terrible opponent he’d want a whole team of Servants to fight. He’d never bet against Ushi, but he ought to be much more afraid for her than he felt. She was always focused and confident in a fight, no matter her opponent, but this felt different somehow, as if she considered the wolf’s death an inevitability and she was just solving for the shortest line to the kill. Something was more different about her than just recoloring her outfit.

At that thought, he felt a mental nudge from what da Vinci called the Master’s Perspective, the ‘character sheet’ he could call up for any Servant he saw. When he blinked it into his mind’s eye, Ushi’s sheet didn’t look like he remembered.

Class Skill: Distortion C: Ushiwakamaru’s Spirit Origin has been altered, granting her the Avenger Class Skill: Oblivion Correction A, but reducing the level of some Rider Class skills and changing the Personal Skills available to her.

Class Skills: Magic Resistance C → D, Riding A+ → B+

Personal Skills: Charisma C+ → Sympathy for the Tragic Hero B+

Oblivion Correction A:  The pain of betrayal and heartbreak is engraved on Ushiwakamaru’s soul, never to be forgotten. In the name of her loss, she has turned her resentment into power.

What the hell? Deeply unnerved, Ritsuka pulled up her Personal Skills as fast as he could.

Personal Skill: Sympathy for the Tragic Hero B+: A tale so tragic it was written into the very language of her nation, Minamoto-no-Yoshitsune's story ends only when she has nothing left worth fighting for. Temporarily combines the effects of equivalent ranks of Battle Continuation and Valor. When in effect, acts as a low-ranked Mental Pollution, and reduces effective Luck by three ranks (A->D).

Wait, what the fuck?! He’d never even heard of Mental Pollution before - wait, no. Giles de Rais had that when they confronted him in Orleans in his Caster aspect, hadn’t he? And that weird murder-chibi Jack the Ripper in London? Ritsuka's mind briefly locked up trying to process how bad that could be. He’d had way more than enough of Murderously Insane Ushiwaka for one lifetime, and now -

He clenched a fist, forced himself to breathe. No. Ushi would be all right. Whatever this was, they’d handle it. All they had to do was survive. He flicked a mental hand and scrolled down through the sheet, frantically looking for other changes.

Noble Phantasm: Hoemaru - Spider-Slayer B+ (Anti-Army):  When Ushiwakamaru’s ancestral sword first came into her hands, it was named Hoemaru - the Howling One. In the hands of Minamoto-no-Raikou, this legendary weapon slew the Great Earth Spider and other foul Mysteries. This technique calls upon the ancient blade itself to -

Ritsuka caught a flurry of motion from the fight and blinked the screen away before he could finish reading.

The shadow-wolf lashed out at her with one scythe after another as it slowly advanced, trying to make an opening for its killing jaws. Ushi twisted between the strikes, then narrowed her eyes and lunged, her sword blurring as it sped towards its remaining eye. Reflexively, it twisted its snout away to protect it, leaving her on its blind side. She carved a rent in its neck as she skipped up onto its shoulder and whirled past the Hessian-shadow on its back, her sword making a silver circle around her. The headless figure on the back shuddered in pain this time, and Ritsuka saw one of its scythe-arms fall away, severed at the root. A sweep with all the talons it had left caught her up and slapped her away as she tried to weave between them.

Ushi twisted herself in the air, hair and sleeves snapping like flags in a typhoon. Somehow, she guided her legs and free hand beneath her, and when she hit the ground, she merely skidded to a halt, asphalt smoking beneath her geta from the friction. She looked up at her opponent again, and Ritsuka saw she sported at least one new wound, a long cut down her cheek.

“It won’t be enough,” she called. “Easy or hard, how you die is up to you.” Ushi’s eyes narrowed further, slits of pale reflected moonlight. “But you will not escape, and you will not. Be. Forgiven.” Her voice cracked at the last few words, the first emotion other than cold fury she’d displayed. She kicked herself into motion, circling once more.

The wolf snarled with frustration and pain as it struggled to keep up with her, baring its teeth in desperation. Gathering itself, it rushed at her straight and fast like a predatory drag racer, open maw leading. She dove out of the way with a wild slash at its passing legs. Instead of turning to follow up, though, the wolf continued on, rounding the corner of the nearest building and out of sight as fast as it could go.

Ushi tensed, about to give chase, then stopped herself when she heard a creak of bending metal, a clatter of gravel on concrete. Blade high, she took a ready stance, watching the roofline and alleyways, eyes shifting from side to side as she waited to see where it would spring from.

Suddenly, all the gut-wrenching fear for her Ritsuka hadn’t felt before hit him at once, leaving him dry-mouthed. Ushi was looking around for it. She hadn't been with him in Shinjuku, hadn't been allowed to watch most of the mission, and all he'd mentioned to her about Lobo was that it was fast and dangerous. She didn't know what else it could do, its bullshit Invisible Man-mashup cheat code -

By the time the risk to himself occurred to him, he’d already lurched forward, nearly falling out of the shattered window trying to make his shout heard. “Ushi! Move!”

Ushi’s head snapped around, and when her eyes met his she seemed paralyzed with shock, the silver sheen to her eyes dimming. Then she flung herself to the side as jaws the size of his torso, translucent as smoke, clashed together where her head had been.

His heart skipped a beat. If she’d been any slower -

Ushi stumbled and fell backwards, brought up short. The half-visible jaws had a grip on her long hair.

Almost instantaneously, she ducked low and spun around, sword rising to cut her hair away, but almost wasn’t fast enough. The wolf’s hazy muzzle whipped to the side before she could shear herself free. Ushi was whirled helplessly in a shallow arc and slammed through the side of an abandoned delivery van like the business end of a wrecking ball. The screech of metal almost drowned out her cry of pain. Then the wolf’s head hauled back the other way, and Ritsuka heard her scream in agony as she was dragged back through the jagged metal. With a surge of

slung her through the air to crack against the concrete wall at the far side of the lot, twenty meters away.

Streaming blood, she fell limply to the ground, and didn’t move.

“Ushi,” Ritsuka whispered, stunned. He’d seen her hurt before, but he’d never heard her scream, not once. He felt his fingernails gouging his palms. Seeing her motionless felt wrong. He had to do something, he had to help her -

Then, instead, he was stumbling backwards in instinctive fear, because a single, baleful red eye rolled out of thin air above those snarling, translucent jaws and looked right at him.

Ritsuka turned and ran for his life.

He made it half a dozen steps before glass exploded behind him. The hallway’s entire floor bent sideways and down, as if some tremendous weight had landed on it behind him. A terrible frothing snarl filled the spaces between the sounds of shattering glass and creaking metal. The floor tilted, its supports buckling beneath it, and he stumbled.

“Heroes fall when they die, and not before,” Leonidas said, dropping easily into a series of low walking stances, “but for most warriors it's the other way around. If you’d keep your life, Master, you must practice keeping your feet!”

Ritsuka’s legs remembered what they’d been drilled to do, sagging to keep up with the dropping floor. A stumble turned into a stagger; he slapped a shattered window pane and pushed himself upright without stopping, a new gash stinging his palm. There was a slavering growl behind him, and the scrabbling of enormous claws shredding carpet and floor. He could imagine the gaping, black maw behind him.

“Doesn’t matter whether they’re a hundred yards away or breathing down your neck, when you’re outmatched, it only matters if you can make it as far as your next trick,” Robin Hood said, a self-deprecating smirk on his face. “So when you run, don’t look back.”

He ran, and didn’t look back.

He’d used up all of his luck and all of his adrenaline, so when he managed to keep his feet under him as he crashed through the stairwell doors and barrelled down the steps three or four at a time, he could only chalk it up to a miracle. Turn, and turn, and then the wolf hit the stairwell door above him, just one story up, so terrifyingly close, but he could hear it stumble down the unexpected steps and crash into the outer wall, and then he couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t even think because it howled, and the noise filled the stairwell with clashing echoes of so loud and hateful that his mind nearly blanked.

Some instinct from the battles he’d survived, a pale mortal imitation of the Mind’s Eye skill, made him fling himself down the stairs as the echoes faded. A trio of black scythes lashed over the side of the stairwell, striking haphazard and blind and still cutting through the space he’d just been in and punching holes in the wall. Instead of being skewered, he made a half-controlled roll down the stairs and fetched up against the wall with a spike of pain in his side where he’d hit the edge of one of the steps wrong.

His head was ringing. The side of his chest hurt every time he breathed, even when he was panting for air. He blinked up at the stairs above him, barely seen in the darkness of the stairwell. Though his ears hadn’t recovered, he could feel the vibrations of something moving up there, and through the ringing he could distantly hear the snarls and pained yelps of a huge, badly injured quadruped picking its way down stairs not meant for it. For a moment, it seemed stupid to bother getting up before it killed him. Everything hurt.

She’ll never make it back to Chaldea in time without a Master. If you die, she dies.

It was a stupid reason. Wasn’t he the one who was thinking it was acceptable if he died now a few minutes ago? He was the one who wouldn’t come back. She was a Servant. Servants could be re-summoned. He’d done it before.

He’d cried, too, when they died and when they came back. None of them had ever been disposable.

No matter what her brother would have said, Ushi wasn’t disposable. So get up, idiot.

Ritsuka sucked in a deep breath, struggled not to cough painfully, and hauled himself to his feet with a grip on the railing. His leg threatened to buckle, but he forced himself to move anyway. He didn’t so much take the stairs down as fall down them while catching himself with his feet. Every step jarred his body, but he limped down the steps and out into the abandoned entry hall of the skyscraper.

He had almost made it out into the parking lot again through the same broken doorway he’d come in when the wolf slammed into him from behind. If it had been even a tenth as fast as usual, he wouldn’t have survived the impact, Mystic Code’s protection or not. It was injured and weary and stumbling and it still hit him like a truck, sending him flying. The skyscrapers in the night spun dizzily around Ritsuka as he sailed through the air. The air exploded out of his lungs as he hit the pavement.

Wearily, he lifted his head to see that one big red eye glaring hate at him from the shadows in the doorway. He didn’t remember rolling over and pushing himself up, but he did it, coughing the whole time. He made it to his knees. It was the best he could do.

The wolf stepped out of the doorway with a pronounced limp, its foreleg trying to crumple beneath. With the tenacity of hate, it padded toward him, only a dozen meters away. The Hessian-shadow on its back flexed, and all the scythe-arms it had left spread wide to embrace him, a macabre blossom. His friends and teachers would have spat defiance in its face and fought it to the very last. Ritsuka wasn’t really that kind of person, but he did them proud as best he could, and didn’t look away.

A billowing silhouette plummeted down from the shattered building above, driving a gleaming, moonlit blade two-handed into the center of the scythes on the shadow’s back. The impact buckled the wolf’s leg and drove its belly to the ground, while the headless figure bowed its back as if trying to scream without a mouth. Scythes spasmed wildly, scraping furrows in the ground and the building behind it, making the air a litter of concrete fragments and dust.

By the time the rider-shadow went still, Ushiwakamaru had pulled her sword free and leapt down. It was hard to see in the dim light, but as he staggered back from the fight, Ritsuka caught a glimpse of her face, blood dripping down over eyes empty of anything but purpose.

With a howl of anguish, the shadow-wolf tried clumsily to whirl on her. Instead of dodging back, Ushi stepped inside its reach. The enormous jaws snapped behind her as she cut, blade nearly vertical as she carved a long slice into its shoulder. It snarled and hopped back, scythe-arms dragging like broken wings. Ushi tried to move with it, but her leg faltered and she nearly dropped to the ground.

The wolf pivoted hard on its hind legs and slammed its flank into her, knocking her away once more. She skidded along the pavement, caught herself, and rose into a crouch, her eyes gleaming white and furious in the light of one of the few remaining streetlamps. Instead of pressing the attack, the wolf limped back. The injured scythes trembled, but couldn’t seem to rise, as if its rider were too badly injured. With a fearful snarl, the whole beast began to ripple and fade into invisibility.

Ushiwakamaru’s eyes narrowed to silvery slits at the sight, and she raised her sword out to the side, upright.

“The Wandering Tales of Shana-O, Act Five.”

Her hair and sleeves whipped as if stirred by a sudden wind. When she snapped her wrist, the blood smearing her blade shook free in a single spray, spattering the pavement in a long red streak and leaving the sword as immaculate as if it had just been polished. It glimmered with the reflection of a clear night sky with a bright, full moon that was nothing like the cloudy sky above.

“Sword of my ancestors, monster-slayer, too long have I choked you with human blood.”

Gracelessly, the wounded wolf heaved its bulk into motion, vanishing completely from sight. Ushi ignored it, slipping the sword back into its furred sheath. She twisted to follow the sword back, her whole body coiling around the handle, ready to draw and swing.

“Recall your true prey, and raise your voice once more!”

Her eyes snapped open wide, moonlit white showing all around blue irises, pupils shrunk in manic focus.

“Howl against the wicked! Hoemaru!”

Ushi ripped her sword from its sheath again, spinning in a ferocious, full-circle sweep, and a rippling pulse of sound and force rippled outward, shattering windows, dust and dirt blasting from the ground in a perfect expanding circle. The edge of the blast rolled over Ritsuka, and though it was already fading it still sounded like a gong the size of a whole temple. The deafening peal scoured Ritsuka’s ears and the shockwave knocked him to the ground and left his bones aching, but either he was excluded from the worst of the effects or he was too far away to take the brunt of the attack.

The wolf was not so lucky.

The shockwave caught something huge and unseen as it leapt for Ushi, flinging it back against the corner of the building it had pursued Ritsuka through hard enough to bend the support beams. Invisibility peeled away from the wolf’s hide in shimmering tatters like tissue paper in a strong wind. It stumbled, trying to rise to its feet again, thrashing its head back and forth and pawing at its ears.

Ritsuka bit his lip until it bled as he watched Ushi slump with pain and exhaustion. She swayed, nearly falling, then visibly rallied herself for a final effort. When the wolf raised its head from its paws, she was there in a flash, darting in to thrust upwards beneath its throat, muffling the fading chime of her sword in its flesh. Making a terrible choking sound, the wolf lashed out at her with a paw. She ducked forward beneath the strike and stumbled to a knee as she hauled her blade through its flesh and out the side of its neck. The wolf reared back again, its throat half torn out.

Amid fountaining blood, Ushi spun to face the wolf again, rising smoothly into the stance she’d used to threaten it before: blade held horizontal beside her face, already sighting down its edge. As the huge head came down again, she let out one last sharp cry and lunged with both hands, put the tip of her sword through its remaining eye, and drove it in until it scraped against the back of its skull.

The wolf gave a short, strangled whimper. Both combatants were perfectly still for a moment, joined by a few hands’ breadth of moonlit blade. Then Ushi heaved the sword’s hilt right, heaved it left, and pulled it free.

The wolf shuddered once, rigid in its death throes. With fierce solemnity, Ushi swept her sword down across the wolf’s neck. Its head tumbled free across the pavement as its body thudded to the ground, blood gushing from the stump.

Ushi raised her blade high again as she glared down at the head, looking very much as if she wished it would get up so she could kill it more. Her sword only started to drop when the huge body’s edges began to fray, wisps of darkness drifting out to merge into the night. Then she swayed and fell to her knees, Usumidori’s tip scraping noisily against the ground. She stared emptily at the corpse and didn't move.

“Ushi,” Ritsuka said, voice hoarse. Her head lifted toward him, her eyes bleak and haunted, still holding a faint, moonlit gleam. She didn’t react for so long he started to wonder if she’d heard, or if looking his way was just a coincidence. Then her silhouette figure unsteadily pushed herself up onto one leg, then two, and limped toward him.

When she came closer, he could see her face was spattered almost artistically with red, and her hands and clothes were covered in blood like a villain from a particularly gory slasher movie, Lady Snowblood as a Heian warlord. The outfit beneath her armor had gone from black to white, and the blood on it showed in stark relief. Her hair had come loose and trailed down behind her, and her expression was almost blank, though her eyes held a fey intensity as she stared at him.

Whatever. The only important things were that she was badly hurt and that she wasn’t dead. There was a gash down her cheek, another across her chin, and bloody rents in her armor and clothes. He grimaced at the way she held herself, as if standing still hurt but moving was worse. More of that blood than it appeared was hers, he guessed.

When she got close enough to get a good look at him, her grim mask cracked, replaced by hollow disbelief. She didn’t stop until she stood right in front of him and grabbed him by the shoulders, her sword vanishing into the air. When she looked him in the eyes, he saw that her blue irises were ringed by a pale band like flickering moonlight.

Ushi paused, swallowed, and in a dry, shaky voice said, “…Ritsuka?”

He nodded, stumbling over his words. “You look… Are you okay? You should sit down, go into spirit form, something…”

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re dead.” She blinked once, slowly, that moonlight ring almost shining through her eyelids. “I lost you, too.” There was just a touch of old heartbreak in her voice, like she was talking about something that happened long ago. She looked him up and down, as if confused that he was in one piece, trying to figure out where the trick was.

He started to put the pieces together. Not Madness Enhancement, but something a little like it, something that set the world askew for her. “...It was just a trick, Ushi. I’m right here.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. She swayed on her feet and her fingers went rigid against his shoulders, though whether from or emotion he wasn’t sure. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m alive.” he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. When her eyes opened again, he waited until they focused on him, and said, “Thank you.”

Between one blink and the next, the pale ring around Ushiwaka’s irises vanished, leaving just the blue, and the red spatters on her face somehow stopped being eerily appropriate and started being a bloody mess. She let out a long, shaky breath and seemed to see him again, desperate relief softening her eyes. His heart beat faster when she tugged at his shoulders as if to draw him toward her, but when she caught sight of her hands, she winced and lifted them away as if trying not to get him bloody, gasping, “Aah! My lord, I’m sorry -”

No. Absolutely not.

He stepped up, put his arms around her, blood and all, and held her as tight as he thought he could without hurting her.

Ushi’s breath caught. For a long moment, she was as still as a statue, and he worried that he’d read her wrong again, that she hadn’t wanted this. Then he felt her shaking as her arms tightened around him in return. Her hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, and he closed his eyes and finally let himself believe they were going to be all right.

Chapter Text

Shinjuku Quarantined Territory, March 15, 2019

Ushiwakamaru watched as the silent ruin of her lord’s killer began to dissolve into streamers of black smoke before her. It looked like it was going to take a while, but she could wait. The many wounds she was distantly aware of made it hard to remain standing, so she let herself drop to her knees, Hoemaru’s tip scratching the bloody pavement. A bad way to treat a faithful weapon, but that was the way of the world, was it not?

It didn’t matter. She’d finished everything she needed to do. The wolf-thing had murdered Ritsuka, and she’d faithfully avenged him. If only she’d managed it for the others she’d lost. Still, there was a bleak peace in knowing there was nothing tying her to this world anymore. She'd used up almost every scrap of energy she had to activate Hoemaru, so it couldn’t be long until she faded away.

Except I’m still getting mana from somewhere, came a stray thought.

It was odd how it felt like her anchor to Chaldea was working, but of course that couldn't be the case. because Ritsuka was dea -

“Ushi?”

His voice calling her name jolted her out of her bleak reverie. It was happening again. She must be going mad. She’d imagined she’d seen him, heard him, even after he’d been slain.

He must be alive. He warned me, after all, came that same delusional doubt.

In fact, that vision of him had saved her life, though she'd been so shocked at the sight of him she nearly hadn’t listened in time. She’d paid for that lapse, but she’d pay it again gladly to feel the jolt of incredulous joy she’d felt when she imagined she’d seen him.

When Ushi looked up, there he was, slowly walking toward her across what had just been a battlefield, torn but not torn apart. She could see the relief on his face when she looked up, the concern in his eyes. He seemed quite real, though of course he couldn’t be. She supposed she was willing to indulge in a delusion if it meant she’d hear his voice one more time.

Stop being maudlin and get up!

She forced herself up to her feet, feeling broken bones grinding against each other and ignoring them. Hoemaru slipped from her hand into the spirit world. Each step hurt, but she didn’t, couldn’t stop until she’d walked right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, staring at his face, trying to make her eyes see past this happy fantasy to the truth. He seemed so real, but that wasn’t possible.

…Was it?

She meant to say, ‘My lord,’ but what came out was, “…Ritsuka?”

He blinked and nodded shakily, looking relieved and aghast at the same time. “You look… Are you okay? You should sit down, go into spirit form, something…”

She ignored his babbling, looking him up and down. He was breathing like he’d run for kilometers, his hair was speckled with dust and debris, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with a gravel pit, but he wasn’t torn apart or eaten whole. “You shouldn’t be here,” she muttered to the ghost in front of her. “You’re dead. I lost you, too.” Just like everyone else. It didn’t make sense. He felt solid and alive, and when his eyes caught what light there was, they were worried and tired but just as warm as ever.

“...It was just a trick, Ushi. I’m right here.”

She still couldn’t quite believe he was there. He couldn’t be. She’d seen him die -

Ushi squeezed her eyes shut for a second, feeling that hopeless, all-consuming fury rising up in her again, burning her pain for fuel.

He's not dead. Stop it!

“Hey,” she heard. “I’m okay. I’m alive.” When she opened her eyes, he was still there, against all her expectations. He gave her a weary, grateful smile, his bright eyes watching her. “Thank you.”

Something settled into place in her with an inaudible click, like a broken bone being set in her soul. A rush of warm relief pushed down the cold fury, and the world came back into focus.

She hadn’t been too late. Somehow, she’d made it in time. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t care as long as they were both alive. He was alive! It felt like she was the one coming back to life, instead. She drew in a gasping breath and tugged at his shoulders to pull him toward her, into an embrace, or, or something -

Self-consciousness returned, and she froze again when saw her hands pulling him to her, coated in red as if she’d been bathing with Carmilla. All of a sudden, she could feel how her face and clothing were tacky with blood; some of it was slowly fading with the corpse that had produced it, but a lot of it was hers. Wincing with pain and chagrin, she lifted her hands away, not sure what to do with them. “Aah! My lord, I’m sorry -”

Ritsuka’s worried look gave way to an obstinate one. Ignoring the blood, he stepped between her raised hands before she could pull away, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close against him.

The last of her rage went out like a snuffed candle.

She could hear his breath close to her ear, growing slower and steadier, and feel his heart beating against her chest, the pressure of his arms around her back. Being held like that, like someone important to him, felt so good that at first she wasn’t sure what she was feeling at all. She only realized she’d put her arms around him in return when she registered how much her arms hurt doing it. Then she told herself that there was no point in letting go; it would only hurt more if she moved again. That was a good reason to keep holding him, wasn’t it?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; she could feel the rise and fall against her chest, the tension draining from his body the same way it left hers. They stood there together for a moment, each of them trying to hold each other and hold each other up.

“Are you truly all right, my lord?” she whispered.

Ritsuka nodded without letting go. His voice was unsteady. “Yeah. I mean, I’m scraped up, and I used up a month’s worth of adrenaline, but I’ve actually been worse. Are you all right?” he asked again, little more than a whisper. “I thought -“ He cut himself off as if he didn’t want to mention it.

“My head is still attached,” she said, remembering fangs closing inches from her neck. “I have you to thank for that. Everything else will heal.”

He gave a gentle squeeze, seemed to hesitate, and started to lower his arms. She ought to do the same, but she found she couldn’t make herself let go. Instead, she clung a little tighter. She wanted to hold on until the memory of seeing him die was lost beneath the feeling of his chest rising and falling against hers. She wanted him to keep holding her until she was ready for him to stop. She thought that it might take a while.

After a few seconds, Ushi felt his arms slide around her again, and now she was blushing on top of all the broken bones and blood loss. She still didn’t stop.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“Not enough that I want you to let go,” she said quietly.

“...Oh.” His arms tightened the tiniest bit. “Okay.”

“I thought I was too late,” she said. Her voice shook, despite her best efforts. It was infuriating. If she wouldn’t cry when she’d thought he was dead, why would she want to cry now?

She felt him smile. “You were right on time,” he whispered back.

Ushi let her head lean against his and closed her eyes, and let everything but his warmth fade from her attention.

Unfortunately, that could only last until they both began to wobble. Neither of them wanted to move, but two tired, injured people couldn’t hold each other up forever. Working together, they managed to stumble to a bus bench that had somehow survived both the fight and the general dilapidation of the city.

Ushi’s wounds were far worse than his, and she was critically low on mana; every bit Ritsuka could channel to her was going towards keeping her body functional and healing. Over her halfhearted protests, he broke into a dilapidated office nearby and returned with bottles of water from an abandoned minifridge and an office first-aid kit that had seen better days. She felt a little better about not having been able to stop him when the first thing he did was toss back what looked like a whole handful of painkillers and then empty a bottle of water down his throat, only stopping to pant for breath once it was completely drained.

“My lord, this isn’t necessary,” she said, as he pried open the first-aid kit. “I will survive this.” Tired and hurt as he was, he ought to be worrying about his own injuries, not hers.

He sat down next to her. “Yeah, I know. But… Please let me take care of you, even if it’s only this much.” The hopeful little smile he gave her wiped the exhaustion from his face and the objections from her mind.

Despite his muttering about only knowing basic first aid, Ritsuka was gentle and precise as he cleaned and bandaged her wounds, never touching too close to one or pressing any harder than necessary. It was an awkwardly intimate experience, and she spent the whole time alternately watching him and looking away bashfully, too aware of his hands and his attention. But having someone devote so much care and energy to easing her wounds was soothing in a way that healing magecraft never managed to be.

With the mouth of a water bottle, he wet a pack of gauze that had been sterile once upon a time, and slowly dabbed beneath the jagged tear across her cheek. Her foe's blood had mostly vanished as its corpse faded, but hers still decorated her skin and clothing. “I wish you didn’t have to get hurt for my sake,” he said, with a hint of frustration.

“Swords get damaged, my lord,” she said, which was true, but not what she wanted to say.

“You’re not -”, Ritsuka muttered stubbornly.

“Weapon or not,” she said, a little strength returning to her voice, if not her limbs, “I told you before, I want to fight for you.” That was a little closer to the right words, at least. She wasn’t quite sure how to say that she wanted to fight for Ritsuka, and not just Lord Fujimaru.

“…I actually like it when you fight for me. I like it a lot.” Ritsuka watched her wound instead of her eyes. It was hard to tell in the bad light, but she thought his cheeks might have colored. He definitely looked amused when he said, “I just want you to come out of every fight miraculously unscathed.”

“I shall work on that.” Ushi let herself smile too, even if it hurt. “And I promise to be in perfect shape again before our… date.” She would, too. She’d owe Medea-chan a favor or two for the healing, but it would be worth it.

He did meet her eyes, then. She was a little worried he was going to argue about it, but he just nodded and said, “You’d know best.”

“I refuse to allow that wolf to get in the way of our night out. In fact, ‘spite’ has been added to my list of reasons to have a good time.”

That drew a larger smile out of him. “Usually I’d say spite is a bad reason for doing anything, but in this case I’m all for it.”

* * *

It took Ritsuka longer than it really should have to admit he’d passed the point of diminishing returns for tending Ushi’s wounds. She hadn’t protested or acted like she wanted him to stop, but once he’d bandaged up all of the wounds that hadn’t stopped bleeding on their own, and helped her clean the blood from her face and hands, he started to worry that his attempt at medical care was getting on her nerves.

If Babylonia hadn’t taught him better than to let a god know he owed them for anything, he’d have been offering up thanks to someone that Ushi was still breathing. Yes, theoretically they could re-summon her and she’d remember everything, but even more than for the other Servants, he didn’t trust that completely and didn’t want to have to. She deserved more than another lifetime of being expendable in someone's service.

And it turned out that when she bled, he hurt.

Kneeling in front of her, he wound a bandage around one last cut, a nasty gash on her ankle. He tied it off with what he hoped was the appropriate tightness and glanced up at her. “I think any more amateur medicine is going to do more harm than good,” he said.

She was looking away from him now, her big eyes half-lidded, tired and - he thought - a little reluctant to look at him, though he wasn’t sure why. “I… I truly appreciate your efforts, my lord,” she said quietly.

He closed the kit with a clank and set it down, then scooted around on the ground to lean against the bench only a few centimeters away from her, his back against the front edge of the seat. There wasn't much he could do for his own wounds; he'd cleaned and wrapped the ragged cut on his palm, but his aching ribs and the assortment of bruises and scrapes he was sporting weren't the sort of thing he could easily patch up. They weren't going to kill him, anyway, and the pain wasn't so bad now.

Fingertips brushed the top of his head, and he looked up in surprise. Ushi was looking anxiously back down at him, as if asking if it was okay.

A happy smile crept onto his face. He scooted another few inches to the side to rest his head against her leg. Slowly, her fingers started to move. Not patting his head - honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would've done in that case - but running her fingers through his hair.

“That feels really nice,” he said.

“I’m glad,” she replied, in a voice so gentle he almost didn't recognize it.

He let his shoulders go slack and his head lean into her hand. As the weariness in his legs resolved into aching muscles, and the fear in his heart drained away and left only his usual background anxiety, she kept going, fingers brushing backwards, forwards, backwards again.

Her fingers hesitated long enough for him to blink himself aware again. Then they pressed down, still gently, but with more emphasis, tilting his head back and to the side until he was looking up at her.

Framed against the night sky, Ushiwakamaru was bedraggled and bandaged and without a doubt the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. With half-lidded eyes, she looked down at him, and the gleam in them made his breath come quicker. He saw that hers had sped up too. Her lips parted like she was on the verge of saying something. Instead, she leaned her head down toward him, and those lips were very close, so he stretched upward a little to meet her, eyes closing -

A slightly distorted soprano aria echoed down the empty street. With effort, both of them turned away from each other just in time to see the first mannequin clamber out of a building a block down the street. After a pause just long enough to start hoping it had missed them, its head rotated to look right at them. It let out another burst of song and started toward them with jerky steps.

Ritsuka bit back a curse and glared at the mannequin with a heat that, in a just world, would have vaporized it on the spot. “Of course,” he said, voice flat with resignation. Another mannequin joined the first, and another, stumbling out of doorways with snatches of song. “This Singularity really has it out for me personally, doesn’t it? I am never coming back here once we get home. No more spinal fluid imports. We can tap the staff if we need it that badly.” Wincing, he laboriously stood up.

“Ritsuka, you can’t -” Ushi started.

He grimaced. “I think I’m gonna have to try.”

Ushi made an unhappy sound and pushed herself up to her feet. She held herself upright with obvious effort, and stifled a groan. “Did we not just speak about who fights for whom here?”

Ritsuka raised a hand like he was going to stop her, catch her, hold her up - he wasn’t sure what, exactly. Then he looked down the street at the growing crowd of automata, sighed, and dropped his hand again. “I know I’d be an idiot to tell you to let me handle this, but it’s really tempting.”

“After I just saved your life?” Ushi’s breath hitched in pain as she spoke, but she was managing to smile. “I suppose it is a lord’s privilege to make their retainer’s hard work come to nothing.”

Ritsuka sucked air in through his teeth and said in a pained voice, “Ow. Okay, I'm not tempted any more.” He should be more worried, he supposed, but after surviving Lobo again, he couldn’t quite believe they were going to die. “Mystic Code’s almost charged again, for what that’s worth.” Ritsuka scanned the area for something he could hit a killer mannequin with. “Now I wish I’d brought that submachine gun Kiritsugu gave me last month.”

“I am surprised you even know how to use it.” When he looked back, Ushi was testing her range of motion with her arms, and from the expression on her face, not particularly liking the results. “Also, my apologies if I end up spoiling your work with these bandages.”

The banter was oddly soothing, keeping him from worrying about another fight to the death. “It’s fine. And yeah, I had to learn the basics. Do you know what it’s like to have a Counter Guardian lurking in the corner twenty-four-seven until you let them give you a firearms course? Let me tell you, it’s not great.” He picked up a long, bent piece of pipe that might have once been part of the bench’s shelter. It didn’t look like much, but it was solid and heavy. Limping back to Ushi, he hefted it, keeping an eye on the nearest mannequin. They were closing in slowly, their synthetic voices singing to each other softly, without harmony. “Guess this is the best I’m going to get right now.”

Ushi painfully set herself in an attempt at her usual ready stance. Back straight and hand on hilt, she glanced at him with the same unwillingness to be defeated that he felt. “We’ll make do, my lord.”

From above and behind, a genteel voice called, “Ah, but our Master should never be forced to settle for such paltry armaments!” There was a sound like a dozen guns being chambered all at once.

Ritsuka froze as he recognized the sound. He lowered his makeshift weapon and started to laugh, because they were either saved or absolutely doomed.

“In fact, there’s no need to settle for a mere submachine gun, either. Behold, the ultimate cri… er, fire support! The Dynamics of an Asteroid!”

A moment later, Ritsuka’s laughter was drowned out by the roar of constant gunfire. Bullets rained down on the mannequins like the wrath of a trigger-happy god. Muzzle flashes strobed the night, showing mannequin after mannequin toppling, holed through the head or chest or simply torn apart by the sheer volume of fire. The sharp smell of burning cordite filled the air. Flights of rockets shrieked in from above to detonate among the few mannequins who tried to retreat. It was a war in miniature, and it was entirely one-sided.

When the smoke cleared and the gunfire was only fading echoes, nothing except the two of them was left standing. Ushi dismissed her sword instead of sheathing it and leaned heavily against Ritsuka, looking like she couldn’t decide whether to be relieved that she didn’t have to fight or annoyed that she didn’t get to.

James Moriarty, formerly Archer of Shinjuku, now an Archer of Chaldea, dropped from above to land in front of the two of them, turning his landing into a formal bow, hand over heart. Half a dozen gun barrels still protruded from the ornate steel-and-glass coffin on his back, smoking slightly. The Archer tried to rise from his bow, stopped with a wince and a muffled groan, and then slowly straightened up under the coffin’s weight. He rubbed the small of his back gently. “Oh, to be as young and hale as you once more! Good evening again, Master, Rider.”

“How long were you waiting there to dramatically rescue me?” Ritsuka deadpanned.

Moriarty’s debonair smile stretched into a smirk that looked somewhere between a young boy caught at innocent mischief, and a murderer who knows the detective has no evidence. “I’ll never talk.”

As Ritsuka chuckled ruefully, the older Servant glanced between Ushi and his Master. “Hm. Perhaps I spoke too soon when I called you hale. The two of you appear to have been through quite an ordeal in the last little while.”

“Got chased around by Shadow Servant Lobo. I’m not sure if it’s connected to the Rayshift problem, but it almost had me,” Ritsuka said.

A look of alarm overcame Moriarty’s usual sly expression. “God in heaven, another one? The first was bad enough.” Ritsuka just nodded wearily in agreement.

Leaning against him, Ushi pressed her shoulder against his, and he felt a surge of gratitude for her presence. “Never fear, Archer. I bested it.” Ushi mumbled with a distinctly satisfied tone. She gestured stiffly towards the rubble.

Moriarty squinted into the shadows there. His eyebrows went up, and he gave Ushi a look of re-appraisal. “Having faced the original against my better judgment, congratulations. I’m not surprised that it took a great deal out of you both.”

Ritsuka nodded. “Think you can keep an eye out for more mannequins? I don’t really want to stand up any longer than I have to right now.”

“Why, of course! Fret not, Master. It wouldn’t surprise me if that beast’s presence was interfering with your Rayshift, but whether or not that’s the cause, the great Leonardo da Vinci doesn’t seem like someone to be beaten for long by a technical issue. Until then, well.” Moriarty looked at the two of them, then smirked up at the night sky. “As usual, it’s a good night to still be alive.” Humming to himself, he stepped away, coffin clanking softly.

Ushi frowned after him. “I still do not trust that man.”

Ritsuka shook his head. “Absolutely do not trust him one bit.”

Both of them sat back down, and almost immediately Ushi made a small sound and once more slumped heavily against his shoulder. “Apologies, my lord,” she mumbled. “I am… um… conserving my strength.”

Given how much stronger and tougher they were than him, Ritsuka was always a little surprised when he was reminded that Servants only weighed as much as they appeared to. Ushi was only a couple of centimeters short of his height, but even as weary as he was, she didn’t take much effort to hold up.

If he had put words to his decision just then, they would have been something like, ah, fuck it.

He shifted sideways, wincing at his sore ribs - yeah, a couple of the ones on the left felt like they did after that diving press on Quetzalcoatl, so almost certainly cracked - slid an arm behind her, and as gently as he could, eased her down on the bench to lay across his lap with her head on his arm. It was more intimate than he ought to be, but he’d come so close to losing her that something in him needed to hold her, and he wasn’t in a mood to care about ‘ought to’.

He couldn’t see her face, but once she understood she seemed to relax all at once until there was no tension left in her. “That feels nice,” she murmured. “Did I do well, my lord?”

He boggled down at her. “Are you kidding?”

“I… would like to hear your opinion, my lord.” Her voice was muffled.

Fishing for praise was the traditional pastime of half of Chaldea’s Servants, but if she hadn't earned it it wasn't possible to. “You just soloed a real-life raid boss to save my life. I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but you might be some kind of legendary warrior genius.” He could see the corner of her mouth turn upwards in a very self-satisfied smile, which drew out a smile of his own.

She fumbled at her hat, crumpled it and pulled it off. “Pat my head,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“...do I not deserve a reward, my lord?”

With an incredulous smile, he reached across with the arm that wasn’t occupied and complied. Her hair was very soft.

“S’good,” she murmured, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it, and he almost couldn’t breathe for the wave of tenderness that washed over him.

Ritsuka looked down at the girl in his arms and admitted to himself that what he felt for her had gone well past a crush or an infatuation. “Also, you’re awfully pretty when you’re smug.” Uh-oh. He was tired enough that his filters were slipping.

”...Only then, my lord?” she said, not moving despite the flush that crept up her cheeks.

“Nope.”

“...Thank you.” Her eyes slipped shut, and he might have worried if he hadn't felt her chest keep rising and falling.

Still stroking her hair, Ritsuka tilted his head up to look at the sky, streaked with clouds and spangled with stars half-hidden by the glare of the surviving city lights. There were lots of things to be worried about, not the least Ushi’s strange mood during the fight and the changes to her Saint Graph. He knew in his gut those were something that would have to be dealt with.

But those things could wait. Right then, they were safe and they were together, and that was enough.