Work Text:
After the Thai Carnival left Fuyuki, Gilgamesh had been out of sorts. He was aware of the cause, but it wasn’t something he could simply blast Ea at and be done with.
It started with overhearing a snippet of a conversation:
“I haven’t had this since when I was back home in Thailand! It’s the same flavour as I remember it! Like.. like I’ve been transported back to my childhood!”
His mind conjured a tableful of a faraway cuisine at that moment, one from a long, long time ago. He had not tasted any of it in his current flesh body, and sifted through memories and recollections across worldlines.
Even so, it wasn’t a taste he could forget with merely the passage of time.
For example. A freshly risen butter cake, evenly sliced into eight quadrants.
The sensation of being transported back to his home with a single taste… Gilgamesh wanted to experience that too. Naturally, once he put his mind to it, he should have that which he desired. However:
None of the bakeries in Fuyuki could make a cake to compare. And he had been to many, and demanded the dog bring home various more. It was.. frustrating. He was overcome by a sudden restlessness that wouldn’t leave. The casual words that had burrowed into his mind made even the foods he usually ate and had liked well enough now taste unpleasant.
Until finally, Cu Chulainn put his foot down and refused to go with him to another store. Instead he dragged him to the other mongrel’s house where they sat him down at the dining table. The way Gilgamesh hardly contested this change of plans was worrying enough and exactly the reason an intervention was needed.
Cu started, “Look, I’m sick of being dragged to bakeries and hearing your complaints! Complain to this guy instead about what kind of cake you want!”
Leaning against his kitchen counter, Emiya crossed his arms and observed the sitting King of Heroes who was more docile than usual. He himself had tired of the complaints from Lancer about the other, and now seeing the somber demeanour in person he could see why Lancer was concerned. Not that he ever said he was, and neither would Emiya.
“If you have a rough idea of the ingredients, and describe the taste to me, I can try to make it. ’Course, it’ll only turn out as well as you can describe it.”
An unknown emotion flitted past Gilgamesh’s ruby eyes. He nodded. “I remember it well.”
A beat later, a smirk played on his lips. “Let’s see if you mongrels are up for the challenge.”
-
“Wrong again. To think I mistakenly took you for a decent chef.”
“You’ve only been sniffing at it! Are you a dog now?” Cu forked a small piece from the slice that Gilgamesh wasn’t even eating and found it was a tasty buttery cake like all of the previous ones.
For hours now, they had been trying to reproduce the dream cake that would take Gilgamesh right back to Uruk. That really did sound like a dream, didn’t it?
“If the smell is already wrong, it’s hardly worth tasting,” Gilgamesh rolled his eyes. “Keep up, mutt.”
Emiya was pulling another attempt out of the oven. “He’s been having to smell them for longer though, haven’t you noticed? I’ll get you to eat your words soon, King of Heroes.”
The challenge had lit a fire under him. He was definitely going to bake a cake that golden bastard couldn’t complain about. The King of Heroes did have a fairly refined palate and could identify the deviating flavours and textures of each attempt, so they were smoothly making progress through trial and error. Adjusting the ratio and steps for a cake that had not been made for millenia was actually quite fun. Anyway, he was confident that he would have the right one soon.
True enough, when the next cake was ready, the smell that wafted through the air seemed to give Gilgamesh pause. After taking a whiff, he reached for the fork.
That must be the winning one, right? Or so Cu thought, but Gilgamesh dropped the fork after chewing a piece and stated, “No, this one is still too springy.”
Cu fought back a yawn. He should just go home now, but honestly if he went now there would only be that priest as company. So he might as well stay here and have a slice of yet another rejected cake. Later he’ll engage Gilgamesh in a brawl to work off these calories. That would happen after they left Red’s kitchen, because one did not fight in Red’s kitchen. He and the Goldie had a few ground rules, you know, warn the other when the shitty priest was cooking mapo tofu, no fighting in the red Archer’s kitchen, etc. That was how they managed to cohabitate for so long and survive in present day Fuyuki. All things considered, it had been pretty harmonious. Sure beats having to fight in someone’s shitty grail wars.
The next cake came out of the oven, and Gilgamesh’s whole countenance changed.
Emiya and Cu exchanged a look. A thick slice was served on an original Uruk plateware from the king’s treasury that had unceremoniously dropped onto the counter.
The King of Heroes finished the entire slice. His eyes were closed and something about his being seemed to waver.
Cu had the thought that he was really going to fade away to Uruk.
Could food actually wield that much power? Maybe he should go have some nostalgic Irish eats. The Irish pubs in Fuyuki didn’t quite have that effect, though.
“Oi,” Cu was about to interrupt whatever weird meditation Goldie was doing, but before he could get another word in, those eyes had opened.
There was a swirl of emotion that even threatened to slip from the edges, although it did not in the end.
And although both Emiya and Cu were alarmed (read: freaked the fuck out), they knew that the reproduction had been a success.
They reached for a slice, too. It was time to enjoy the fruits of their labour and visit that damned Uruk they had heard so much about, courtesy of its king.
-
The Lancer and Archer of the 5th Fuyuki Holy Grail War had been sparring again when a fancy sword landed between them and then dispelled into gold dust.
They found the Archer of the 4th Fuyuki Holy Grail War perched atop a lamppost nearby, like a weird stalker or a cat.
Across the distance they could see his delighted grin and sharp, ruby eyes uncovered from the wind sweeping up his bangs, the melancholy of the past days gone as if it were a dream. Cu wouldn’t ever dream such stupid dreams, though, so he was pretty sure it happened.
“Rejoice, for I have decided that I shall host an Uruk Carnival of my own!” He broke into his signature boisterous laugh. “You both have been granted the honour of assisting me.”
The Gate of Babylon next rained down dozens of cuneiform tablets. Emiya picked one up and ran his hand over it. “I have no idea what it’s saying, but I’m guessing this is a recipe you can translate. I’m down for making more ancient cuisine. I can lord it over Shirou since it’s something he hasn’t made. But surely you don’t expect me to work for you for free, King of Heroes.”
“We will come to an agreement,” Gilgamesh waved a hand dismissively. “And meanwhile, Lancer, you will go negotiate with some other mongrels that this king finds too bothersome to deal with.”
“You know what, you didn’t call me a dog today. That’s good enough for me. Just tell me where I’m going.”
“…You sure it’s wise to be sending that guy to negotiate?” Emiya asked once Cu had left. He was calling his lawyer. Never again would he sign contracts without reading everything.
-
So Cu ended up running around negotiating with vendors, applying for permits and getting every detail into place, but at least that golden bastard wasn’t mopey anymore. Who knew even he could get homesick?
Though it wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded that these heroes that were summoned from near and far with all their eccentricities were also human. And because of this universally human emotion, the grandest carnival was about to open in Fuyuki.
Emiya had recreated various snacks and dishes that were approved by Uruk’s king, which vendors at the stalls would follow. A percentage of the sales would be donated to a local orphanage in honour of the once great city.
The Uruk Carnival of Fuyuki opened to much fanfare. Gilgamesh had gone all out in advertising it. Gone worldwide, actually. Every hotel in the city had been fully booked and some were resorting to camping in the surrounding forests. Everyone was excited to sample the supposedly lost foods, although there was no one left to judge their authenticity. At least the archeologists who had arrived were having a blast examining the potterware on display.
“Huh, Tohsaka, you’re eating a lot.”
“What’s wrong with that? This stew is what I’ve been missing all my life. I don’t know anything about it but it’s just to my taste. Anyway, don’t you know not to judge a lady’s eating habits?”
“No, well, I’m just wondering if it’s really that good. Archer’s been acting all smug about it for weeks. That’s it, we’re having Urukian stew on tonight’s menu too!”
“H-Hold on, I didn’t say I wanted it for every meal—!”
Gilgamesh listened to the inane conversations of his attending guests as he observed the ongoings. The model ziggurat constructed at the center of the venue stood prominently, a shining, golden beacon of civilization. Vibrant market streets full of vendor stands and activity stalls stretched around it, where present day humans enjoyed the festivities as if they were living in a piece of his beautiful city.
For him who prided in having impossibilities happen, this had still developed beyond his expectations. Those mongrels had really outdone themselves.
He could almost interpose his past self walking down these same streets, brushing past the same carefree children. Stopping when a familiar voice called out to him.
“Congratulations on recreating Lady Siduri’s beloved recipe.”
“Hm?” Gilgamesh glanced at the robed figure that had materialized next to him, a steaming meatloaf and a cup of ale balanced in his hands. Overlapping memories were brought to his mind. “Ah, it’s you. Run out of your cage to have a taste?”
“I missed it,” The Magus of Flowers said lightly. “It was worth coming this way. By the way, I don’t have the right currency on me, so I will only implore you to be forgiving when the vendors’ tallies do not quite match up.”
“Take this and cease thieving off my merchants, incubus.”
Yen bills that were small enough to be used at such an event, which he’d demanded from Kirei in the morning after a flash of premonition, shot themselves at the magus’s face. They turned into flowers and floated harmlessly down into his robe.
“Oho, I will gratefully accept and go join the line for Lady Siduri’s butter cake. It is stretching around a block, you know. She would be delighted to see that it is such a hit with the humans of this time. Oh, but if I didn’t find you first, I could have cut in line…”
Gilgamesh looked into the distance. It was true, and Gilgamesh already knew it would be the case. It was the recipe he was most careful about, and the one on the forefront of his mind when he thought about home. His smile took on a proud edge. “It is very much worth the wait, after all.”
“And so I am off to languish in line for the rest of the day. Worry not about being lonely in my absence, though, since your friends have arrived!”
Gilgamesh turned to shoot the magus a glare, but the robed figure had already disappeared into the moving crowd.
Hmph. Once again that irritating guy comes and goes as he pleases.
“See, there he is.”
“Hey, what are you doing standing here like an idiot? I didn’t prepare all this just for you to stand in a corner.”
Gilgamesh turned his attention to the two Servants calling out to him. He’d been aware of their approaching presence long before Merlin said anything, of course. Aside from the group of kids and Kotomine, he supposed much of his time in Fuyuki had been spent in their proximity. These sunny, rainy, ordinary days had not been awful.
It was far from Uruk, but he had fun.
“I have booked this venue for an Irish fair next,” declared Gilgamesh out of the blue.
Emiya looked unimpressed. But he always looked like that. Gilgamesh was able to identify, now that he was paying attention, the slight gleam in his amber eyes. “Is there even an Irish dish worth making?”
“Oh, those are fighting words. I came up with loads of ideas when I was planning this carnival, d’you think you can do it?”
Cu cocked his head. Before they could cause a disruption to his guests, Gilgamesh pushed between them.
“Carry yourselves in a manner befitting my city and come along. It is nearly time for the prize draw event at the stage.”
“Are you going to rig it for me, Ou-sama?”
“Perhaps you might be in luck today. After all, you’ve been blessed by my presence.”
“Yeah, I’m as unlucky as ever, thanks.”
Emiya snorted.
A crowd had already gathered by the stage on the ziggurat. A famous acting troupe was exiting after their performance and a popular idol was announcing the next events to be held on the stage. Lucky winners based on their entry ticket number would be called to receive prizes. Gilgamesh prepared to go up as the one who would spin the massive raffle drum, not looking out of place at all.
“It has come to my attention,” Gilgamesh confided, just before he stepped onto the gilded stage, “That you are both my friends.”
He did not wait for their response. The crowd roared as he came onstage.
“Did I hear that right? You heard that too, right, Red?”
Cu turned over to him when he didn’t hear a response. Archer was red, from his overcoat to the tips of his ears. He was looking up at Gilgamesh spinning the wheel in muted, embarrassed silence.
“What’s wrong? I thought you already knew we were friends. What are you all shy about now? Hm, Emiya, old pal?”
Cu couldn’t resist ribbing him a little, as Emiya resolutely ignored him but his exposed ears flushed a deeper red. Cu was getting ready to dodge the elbow (and then the sword) that would soon arrive from his friend Emiya when his attention was caught elsewhere.
“As for the next prize, numbers 4551, 874, 9210, 33623, and 17,” Gilgamesh announced onstage. “Come forth, and stop bothering your friend, number 17.”
“Sweet, that’s my ticket!”
“The prize is a flight ticket to a destination of your choosing for you and your friends.”
“Oh? Anywhere? Can I just go alone?”
Gilgamesh laughed heartily at his joke. What humorous friends he had made. The answer was, obviously,—“No.”