Chapter Text
The journey was well and truly over. It wasn't the ending he wanted, nor was it what he'd hoped for. But....it was ultimately a 'good' ending. Chaldea won. Marisbury Animusphere had failed in his twisted aims. There was really only one thing left to do.....just as soon as he was done saying his goodbyes to the many Heroic Spirits and Divine Spirits that aided him in this long, impossible journey.
Ritsuka stares at his reflection in the mirror, carefully combing his perpetually messy hair into something vaguely resembling respectable. He adjusts his shirt a little, tugging the collar here and smoothing out the front there. He isn't dressed in one of his Mystic Codes this time, just a plain black shirt and a pair of worn jeans that had been patched by the Berserker-class Vlad Tepes dozens of times.
"Okay, Ritsuka. You can do this. You've survived battles against Gods, Demons, Demon Gods and everything in between. You can say goodbye without crying like a little kid who skinned his knee."
The peptalk doesn't really make him feel any better, but it was sure worth a shot. He straightens up and tosses one last glance back at his reflection in the mirror.
He wasn't the scared, scrawny boy he'd been at the start of this. Over the course of the past few years he'd grown taller, put on muscle and earned more than his fair share of scars. He wasn't a boy anymore, he was well and truly a man.
'Mom would freak out if she saw me like this.' He thinks with a slight smile on his lips. Ritsuka shakes his head and exits his room; the mechanical door hissing as it opens and then closes behind him. He makes his way not to the cafeteria or any of the various communal 'hang out' spots, but to the summoning chamber where everything had all started.
As he steps into the room with runic engravings inlaid into the floor in Magecraft formulas he still didn't properly understand to this day, Ritsuka isn't too surprised to see that he's not the only occupant there.
A deep, confident voice shatters the silence.
"Hmph. So you've finally arrived, mongrel."
The man standing there is clad in gilded armor and radiates poise and confidence like the sun radiates heat. His blond hair spikes upwards and Ritsuka meets that crimson gaze with a smile on his lips.
"Sorry for making you wait, Gilgamesh."
The Archer scoffs, his lips twisting into a scowl. "As you should be. My time is valuable." He folds his arms over his chest and glares at Ritsuka; the air itself seems to tremble from the weight of his glare as a heavy pressure fills the empty summoning chamber.
Unlike the first time that glare was leveled at him, Ritsuka doesn't flinch back or cower. He simply folds his arms across his chest in a mirror of Gilgamesh's own stance and stares defiantly back at him.
The silence stretches between Servant and Master as the tension builds and builds until-
"....good. That is the look you should have, mongrel."
Gilgamesh breaks the silence and smirks at Ritsuka as a golden ripple appears in the air between him. The Archer reaches through the Gate of Babylon and withdraws first two goblets, offering one to Ritsuka.
"Take it and drink with me, Master of Chaldea."
Ritsuka's mouth opens out of habit, but Gilgamesh's glare sharpens like the edge of a knife.
"Do not think to refuse my generosity with that same tired excuse,mongrel. You are no child."
His lips close and Ritsuka offers the Archer a weary smile as he accepts the goblet from the King of Heroes. "....yeah, I guess you're right."
Gilgamesh scoffs as if to say 'of course I'm right, you fool' before he withdraws a crystalline bottle containing within it a deep red liquid. He pours it into his own goblet first, before pouring an equal amount into Ritsuka's.
"Sip slowly, mongrel. Savor this moment. The King of Heroes does not freely share his drink often."
Ritsuka lets out a soft, amused snort and inclines his head to the Archer before taking a small sip; letting the alcoholic drink sit atop his tongue for a few moments before he swallows it. A moment or two passes before his nose wrinkles.
"....it tastes like spoiled grapes."
Gilgamesh's laughter is loud and booming; echoing off the walls of the large room and carrying on for the better part of ten seconds.
"Spoiled grapes! Truly, your foolishness knows no bounds, mongrel! You have become a man, but you clearly still possess the palate of a child."
Rather than taking offense, the Archer seems thoroughly amused by the sheer audacity of a mere human daring to say his drink tastes like spoiled grapes. Ritsuka gives a small shrug of his shoulders and offers the gilded Archer an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Gilgamesh. Maybe wine just isn't for me?" Despite what he says, Ritsuka does take a second sip of the wine. Whatever else he may be, no one in Chaldea could rightfully call him a quitter.
His nose wrinkles a second time.
There's a few moments of silence as he studies the Archer standing across from him. He remembers the day he first summoned him, he remembers the Archer's overwhelming strength in battle on the rare occasions Gilgamesh felt a fight was worthy of his attention.
He thinks of all the lessons he'd learned from him over the past few years and a soft smile crosses his lips.
"Hey, Gilgamesh." A brief pause. "....thank you. For answering my call. For fighting at my side all this time. I know I've said it before, but-"
"Be quiet, fool."
There's a tone in the Archer's voice that Ritsuka hasn't heard before and it has him standing just a little bit straighter.
Gilgamesh swirls the wine in his own goblet; his crimson gaze lingering on the ripples in the surface for several long, silent moments before he speaks again.
"You, of all people, do not owe me gratitude." His slit-pupiled gaze lifts from the wine to focus intently on Ritsuka. "I do not say this lightly, mongrel. You embody the aspects of the humanity I so dearly love. You did not give up in the face of adversity. When the odds were impossible, you fought anyway. Whether God, Servant or Beast you stood defiantly against them and fought for humanity."
He tosses his goblet aside. The cup and the liquid inside vanish through a golden ripple in the air as he strides across the room to stand before Ritsuka; his crimson gaze focused intently on the young man standing before him.
"You were weak. A child desperately searching for someone to help them. But you did not seek a savior. From the very start, you resolved to restore the Human Order yourself. You did not stand back and let your Servants decide your course of action. No matter how foolish it may have been, no matter how impossible the odds were, you did not give up."
He reaches one hand outwards; curling his fingers into a fist with a sharp grin on his lips as pale golden lights begin to emanate from his form. His outline grows more translucent with each spoken word.
"I, Gilgamesh the King of Heroes, regard you as worthy of being my friend. No matter how your journey must end, know that I will remember you. The knowledge of all you have accomplished will return with me to the Throne of Heroes. Stand proud and bow your head to no one, Ritsuka Fujimaru."
Ritsuka's eyes widen; tears that he refuses to let fall sting at the corners of his eyes as he clenches his own hand into a tight fist before extending his arm outwards to press his knuckles against Gilgamesh's own, even as the Archer fades from sight as his summoning is undone.
"Yeah, I will."
The silence weighs heavy as Ritsuka stands alone in the summoning chamber with tears in his eyes that he won't let fall. He slowly draws his arm back and wipes his eyes with the back of his fist before letting out a slow, steady exhale before speaking softly to the empty room.
"Goodbye, Gilgamesh."