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Hakuno was not a confident person. She didn’t have anything to fight for. Most people entered this war holding something dear to them. The Holy Grail was something that only those with drive and determination deserved to win—a magical wishing device that could grant anything one could possibly imagine. Or at least, that was how it was described to Hakuno.
While others had dreams, wishes, goals, aspirations, and even family, Hakuno had none of those things. She had no dreams for the future, no wishes she longed to see fulfilled. Hakuno did not aspire to be anything. She was empty. It would be more accurate to say that she was nothing.
That was why Hakuno was not confident. When people told her she didn’t belong, she had nothing to say in response. She knew nothing about herself, holding only vague memories of a school that she now knew was fake. She didn’t even know who she was.
She could not muster the will to call something her own. The only thing she had was her desire to live. Many people would say that wanting to live, in itself, was a good reason to fight. Hakuno didn’t think so. Her desire to live should not outweigh the dreams that others carried so earnestly.
Especially when it meant taking the lives of others. Hakuno didn’t want anyone to die; she wanted to avoid it if possible. But as the days ticked down, as she stood with Saber at her side, fighting enemies in the arena and meeting other Masters, she never let herself think about the inevitable. The idea that they would have to die, that she would never see some of these people again, never fully crossed her mind—until it happened.
Hakuno didn’t want to exist in such a cruel reality. But in the end, this war did not care whether something was ‘cruel’ or not. The Holy Grail War did not care for one’s feelings. It only cared for results. The fact remained: only one person could win. In an elimination battle, it was either her or her opponent. Hakuno Kishinami did not want to die. It was contradictory. She did not want to die, yet at the same time, she did not want to kill.
She wanted to find the truth about herself. She fought to see if there was something she might have wanted, to regain her memories, to discover who she was. Yet, even those goals—those desires—felt so small compared to what the others had fought for, what they had put their very lives and souls on the line to achieve. It was cruel.
If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.
Shinji had spoken those words as he was deleted by the system. She had fought him, hoping to spare him, but the system had other plans. Of course, Shinji had been rude, selfish, and far too full of himself. But he did not deserve death. And yet, he died because of her. In the end, only the victor remained.
The person who did not want to kill or be killed had no reason to fight, and yet, she had to face the reality that, on the battlefield, losers died. There was no deeper meaning to his death, no greater explanation. He had simply perished, and she had remained. Hakuno Kishinami was a monster.
Because of her, so many people with wishes had died. She had taken down Archer and his Master. She had defeated Alice, despite knowing how lonely the girl was. Hakuno had been Alice’s only friend. All the child had wanted was company. And yet, Hakuno had still led her to her death. Not out of malice. Not out of desire. But the result was the same. Only the victor remained.
The people she had met in this war—they would never see another day. All because of her.
She could forget it in small moments, but never completely. Never truly.
She felt nothing but guilt. Taking the lives of strangers, of friends, following the rules of this twisted war for the mere chance of learning something about herself—not even a guarantee. Was it worth it? Was she worth it?
Only the victor remained.
And that victor was a monster.
Hakuno Kishinmai did not deserve to exist, she should have died a long time ago.
Hakuno woke from a dream. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a nightmare. She had just won her third match in the Grail War, eliminating Alice. Her vision was blurry. She reached up to her face and felt the wetness on her cheeks.
Tears.
Then the memories came flooding back. The loss. The weight of everything she had done to reach this point. The emotions bubbled up, and she could no longer contain them.
Tears rolled down her face, she covered her face with her hands, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs. Her body trembled as she sobbed, consumed by guilt of all the lives she had taken.
“Praetor…”
A gentle voice reached her ears. Hakuno sniffled and turned to see the familiar golden-haired woman beside her. Saber. The one person who had stayed with her through everything. The one person who had always believed in her, even when she did not believe in herself.
She held more light than anyone else, her most important and treasured partner who had helped her from the beginning when she was nothing, and assisted her now when she still wasn’t anything.
“Saber…” she managed to choke out.
It was embarrassing to be seen like this. To show weakness. She had no words, nothing to say to explain herself. Saber reached out, pulling Hakuno into her embrace, pressing her close.
“There’s no beauty in your tears, Praetor. The tears you shed are proof of your kindness. Perhaps that in itself, is beautiful. Your feelings move me, but it pains me to see you this way.”
Hakuno stiffened slightly at the warmth of Saber’s hold. But she did not pull away She found herself in Saber’s chest as they lay in bed together. She was a failure of a Master, showing weakness to her own servant. She was the one who was supposed to be leading them to victory, yet here she was like this.
“But... Saber, I can't live with myself. Please tell me... am I a monster? Do I even deserve to win? After killing so many people... I just... I don't know…”
Her voice broke. She had no answers. She had nothing. She was broken down to her core. She hadn’t even considered the fact that Saber would be upset with her doubt in their victory.
“Monster is a very ugly term. No, I would not call you that. If you are a monster, then I deserve to be called far worse. Nay, Praetor, you are beautiful. You are more like a work of art. A canvas still waiting to be painted. And I have no doubt that, once complete, you will be truly magnificent.”
Hakuno's breath hitched. Too good for this world? That couldn’t be true. And yet, Saber’s words, her warmth—it soothed something deep inside her. She could feel her body-heat, her warmth, the comfort she gained from Saber was unrivaled by anything she’s ever felt before.
Saber began gently stroking Hakuno's hair, her fingers brushing through the strands in slow, comforting motions. She whispered softly, “Even if the world is cruel, even if fate is unkind, you are not alone. I will always stand by your side, Praetor. No matter what.”
Hakuno let out a shaky breath and held onto Saber even tighter. The warmth was intoxicating, a solace she hadn’t known she needed. Saber’s presence felt like a small light in the darkness, a shield against the overwhelming guilt.
Hakuno let out a shaky breath. “But, why?”
“Because you are my Master. There is no better reasoning. You are nothing less than extraordinary. You have endured trials that would have broken lesser men. You stood against enemies far stronger than yourself, yet you never faltered. We have made it this far thanks to your excellent judgment. The lives you took cannot be brought back; that burden will remain with you. But seeking victory does not make you a monster. You must move forward, if not for yourself, then for those who have already fallen.”
Hakuno paused, her heart in conflict. There was truth to her words. The past could not be changed. All she could do was keep moving forward. After all, she had Saber with her. Saber was her sword and shield, the strongest and most loyal servant. In her opinion.
If there was one thing she could fight for, it would be to keep this feeling—this warmth, this connection with Saber. She held onto her tightly, pressing herself closer to the one person she cherished most.
“Thank you, Saber. I love you.”
“Umu! I am glad to have—mm!? Praetor, please, do repeat yourself! I don’t believe I heard you properly the first time!”
Hakuno allowed herself a small smile.
“Goodnight, Saber.”
“Praetor!”
Saber huffed in playful indignation but did not let go. She simply held Hakuno closer, letting the silence between them stretch comfortably. The world was still cruel. The war was still unforgiving. But, at least in this moment, Hakuno was not alone. And that, for now, was enough.